Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Battle of the Blue Balloon...


Today will long go down in history as the date when the legendary Battle of the Blue Balloon took place. The morning started off with a bang, or I should say gurgle. The septic lines that we just had snaked out about three weeks ago started to back up again (tree roots in the terracotta pipes, not covered under our home warranty btw). We got up late for school. I had to go in for a routine oil change, my two-and-a-half year old in tow.

Now let me tell you a little something about my Sophia. She's willful, headstrong, funny, articulate; type A all the way. And she and I can sometimes drive each other up the wall. Mainly, we butt heads because we are way too much alike, sharing traits both good and bad.

Getting ready to head out. Here, she is telling me something along the lines
that she would really rather not go to get the car worked on
right in the middle of her favorite Umizoomi episode.
Only with some two-year-old equivalents of curse words included.  
The time during the oil change goes swimmingly enough. When we are leaving, however, someone at the dealership makes a big to-do about giving her a gigantic blue balloon (why in the hell do these places always have to be filled with giant balloons? Are balloons really an incentive for people over the age of five to buy a car?). Now, I know from past experience that balloons in the car can be a disaster. I tell her very carefully, and show her, that she has to hold the balloon at the bottom of the stem. And we get on the road. The highway. With a gigantic blue balloon in the chubby fist of two-year-old Sophie lounging in the back in her car seat (Yes, you are probably right to be thinking, "Uh-oh; This is going to end badly").

About halfway into our trip home, Sophie gets the idea that it would be hilarious to let out a little of the balloon string at a time, allowing it to float closer and closer to the front seat. I tell her, in the calmest voice I can muster, "Hold the balloon at the bottom, Sophie, or you can't have it anymore," all the while muttering under my breath, "These f$@#ing chickiepoppa car salesmen and their f$@!ing balloons."

Then, she lets the balloon float right up to my face, the car going 70 miles an hour - and I snap and become a two-year-old myself. I roll the window down and shove that big giant balloon right out the window with a very satisfactory POP.

Epic mommy fail.

So, for the rest of the day, I will feel like a big giant jerk. I think these kind of moments are the ones kids tend to remember. They don't remember the fact that mommy always makes sure there's milk in the fridge and peanut butter in the cupboard; they remember, mommy shoved my big blue balloon out the window when I was two years old. She was really acting like a crazy woman. Sigh.

Here's hoping that tomorrow I have more patience, and that next time I remember it's a really bad idea to let Sophie have a big blue balloon in the car. Next time, we'll just have to let the balloon go before we get on the road so we can at least enjoy watching it float away. ~Alice


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