An Important Update

The balloon is down.

I repeat. The balloon is down.

Only took 44 days.

I swear... this balloon was a special breed of evil.

It possessed a nasty streak for sure. The thing was such a tease.

(Video)

I mean. That's just hateful.

Not only did it torment my children but it took special pleasure in scaring me as well. That joker somehow wafted up the stairwell and into my bedroom! Nothing like coming into your room and being startled by a levitating orb of evil.

Yes, that's a massive pile o' laundry on my bed. My endless laundry pile... perhaps even more scary than freaky-deaky creeper balloons.

On a positive note... I do get bragging rights!

Yes, my husband is fun and made guessing the "date of balloon demise" into a contest.

And yes, he did call it "Balloon O-Rama."

And yes, he did spell Mommy wrong.

And yes, he is awesome and we love him.


Maranda

Dumb and Dumber with a Chocolate Goatee

I think all my children are beautiful.

I mean, I know I'm biased an all... but come on?!

photo credit - Deedee Spangler

photo credit - Deedee Spangler

photo credit - Deedee Spangler

This one here is a real heart breaker.

Of course, he is often confused for a beautiful little girl.

I know it is my fault because I like keeping his hair long. But all you mommies out there know:

Once you cut the curls off, they never come back.

Well, finally, after a day in which he was referred to as "such a precious little girl" by multiple people, I did cut the boy's locks. They took 5 inches but he still had a few curls left and left a good amount of length.

A "surfer cut" they called it.

Brent felt it was a poor effort.

I felt it was a compromise.

However, the pretty little girl comments continued and both he and his brother were beginning to look a little shaggy last week, so I took them for hair cuts.

And now he looks like dumb and dumber.

Brent. I hope you are happy. I blame you for this. ;)

Maranda

I. hate. balloons.

I know it's not nice to complain. So I guess after this post I'm gonna have to go and get my Ann Voscamp on or something, but can I just vent for a moment?

I hate balloons.

Hate. Them.

I am convinced they are a straight from the pit of hell.

I mean first of all - the obvious: they are a choking hazard.

Not that my kids would ever choke on one because they are far too busy fighting over the balloon, or crying because it popped or hitting someone with the balloon, or crying because they let it go in the parking lot.

On January 10th, Sassy a child who shall remain nameless, released this balloon in my house.

Yay. My favorite. The helium filled mylar.

FYI, it is FEBRUARY 17.

That sucker is never coming down.

And you should have heard the wailing over this released balloon. You would have thought something died. And because it is there in our living room... occasionally she will look up longingly at it and bemoan its loss all over again.

And honestly, although it is a bit annoying to have a balloon semi-permanently affixed to my ceiling, at least it is stuck up there where they can't fight over it!

A couple of weeks ago my children completely abused a balloon-making clown at a family night at Chick-fil-a. They would not leave the poor woman alone.

They were obsessed.

My eye is twitching as I look at these pictures.

Please visualize me exiting the Chic-fil-a with my litter of children and some 20 odd balloon animals. Of course we had a casualty as we walked through the parking lot which incited much weeping and gnashing of teeth. There were accusations hurled, blame placed and bitterness rooted before we even made it to the car.

Now picture me strapping their little hineys into their car seats whilst balloon swords and flowers and kitty cats are bouncing around us and escaping out the doors and surviving angry swats and stomps as my children wrestle each other and fight over who gets to sit in which seat.

Because my children are peace-loving and kind.

I'm just saying, by the time I drove home with all that insanity and made another transfer of balloon critters into my house, I was ready to kill all of the things.

And the drama only continued once we were inside. They started beating each other with the swords and heads were coming off kitties and they were crying and freaking out at epic proportion. Every few seconds a child would run to me wailing because someone had taken HER balloon, or because HE had untwisted the wiener dog legs and now it was just a snake!

Brent came home in the midst of all of this and I directed all balloon related inquires and complaints to his department.

I don't mean to boast, but I feel like I put up with a lot of crap on a daily basis. I have a pretty high tolerance for chaos and filth and insanity, but I think balloons are the thorn in my side... the bane of my existence... my great nemesis.

But at the end of the day... I win.

Maranda

Replacement Hamster

For Sassy's 6th birthday we gave in to her unending request for a pet and got her two "used hamsters" complete with cage, bedding and food all for the low low price of $10 courtesy of Craig's List.

Gotta love the Craig's List.

Anywho... she was very happy.

I'm not sure the hamsters were.

And I was definitely not happy when one escaped and took up residence under our oven where she must have spent most of her time peeing and fashioning the oven insulation material into a fluffy hamster nest.  

I wish this was smellevision so you could experience the putrid, overwhelming, stench of hamster urine wafting through our home any time we needed to bake. 

So. Gross.

Alas, that hamster is long gone. However, the nicer, less-crafty hamster remained with us until she passed about a month ago.

R.I.P Mini.

Ever since her passing, Sassy has been begging for another pet. 

Still a bit scarred from hamster #1, Brent and I were reluctant, but we gave in this weekend after Sassy conducted research on various furry critters and determined that a gerbil might be a good fit for the family. 

Our main criteria was that the animal would fit in our current cage and that if at all possible it could be a desensitized animal that was accustomed to much handling and noise so that it might not totally freak out by the zealous affections of our children. 

Allow me to introduce you to Daisy.

She met neither of these conditions. 

She is a failure. 

And a slob.

She also now has a new glass palace in which to hide from our children. 

Maranda