Mama Diaries

Thursday, February 22, 2018

The Mad Scientist

When I wake up in the morning, I don't think about plutonium or nuclear reactors. I don't think about the inner workings of a battery, either. I wake up and think about making breakfast for my kids, and hope I can do it without spilling an entire jug of milk on the floor. 

My son, Bubba, on the other hand does think about plutonium, and radon, and nuclear fusion. In fact, he draws complicated diagrams of batteries and explains them to me, as I sit there in a complete state of grogginess.

Here was the latest diagram: 


This is a battery. Some kind of special one with a lead case so the radioactive material inside doesn't create a problem for its handler. The diagram on the left is something about how to make two parts come together to begin the reaction once the casing is secure. Do you understand? Me neither.  I thought he was probably coming up with this from the top of his head. Maybe it was some residual delirium from his recent bout with the flu.

But my husband took a look at it.  It is actually a viable concept for a real plutonium battery. (My husband is a mechanical genius, so he would know if Bubba was full of it.)

I don't know if my Mad Scientist son is going to get the parts and assemble this in our basement. But what I can tell you, is that if you see a mushroom cloud over Atlanta, Georgia, the epicenter will be at my house!   

Monday, February 12, 2018

The Claw Master

My son, Bubba, is a lucky dude. Every time he goes to a place that has those machines where you operate a claw in hopes of snatching a stuffed animal or some other prize, he wins. I don't know how he does it. Must be a magic touch.

The other day, he went to a place called Dave and Busters. He had to try his luck at another claw machine. This one contained jewelry and watches. (I guess stuffed animals don't hold much appeal to him anymore, now that he's a teenager.)

He brought the claw down and snagged a lovely necklace. First try.


"Nice," I said. "What are you doing to do with it?"

"Keep it in a special place. And maybe eventually give it to somebody. Like maybe a girlfriend for Valentine's Day if I ever get one."

"Good thinking."

 Maybe he can win some stuffed animals, too. I'm sure his date would be thrilled!


Before I go, I want to let you know that I'm doing a Goodreads Giveaway for my book, Don't Feed the Elephant. It's for the Kindle version, and it's a chance to win one of 20 copies. Open to US residents only. If you're interested, you can enter here.

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Race Day

My son, Bubba and I decided to do the 5K Hot Chocolate Race in Atlanta this past Sunday. It sounded like a good idea. Especially since at the end of the run, they give finishers a big bowl and plate filled with rice crispy treats, marshmallows, a banana, chocolate, and of course, hot chocolate!

We had been training for about a month. We were in good shape (aside from blisters on my toes and a screwed up knee–neither of which I acquired from running).  On the morning of the big race, I woke up at 4:00 AM (we had to be there by 6:30 AM), and discovered it was raining. Hard. I groaned. Running in the rain was not something I wanted to do.

Then I looked at the thermometer. 35 Degrees Fahrenheit. Almost cold enough to snow. This is crazy, I thought.

My boy came downstairs.

"Dude," I said. "Take a look at the weather. Do you seriously want to do this?"

He poked his head outside. "Sure. It's not great, but it's no big deal."

Uh huh.

The weather forecast indicated that the rain was going to continue all day. Atlanta was under a weather advisory. I checked the race site. It was still on.

"Okay," I said. "We'll go see what's up. And maybe we can still get our hot chocolate. That's what we're going for, right?"

Long story short - the corral wait in the rain was an hour. The run was just over 35 minutes. It was the coldest, wettest running experience ever! And the hot chocolate wasn't hot. It was tepid.

"That was great!" Bubba said. "Can we do the 15K next year?"

Yeah, right!