Some people may call it having anxiety or being crazy
I like to think of it as keeping my life fun.
Sometimes it makes the day go by quicker wondering if my car is going to get washed into the river, when I'm forced to use this parking spot at work.
I also really enjoy staying up all night because my son switched to his big boy bed and I have visions of him getting decapitated from the side rails.
One of my biggest irrational fears is that a balloon is going to blow up and burn my face off.
I'm not sure where this even came from but I'm assuming at some point in my childhood I was playing with a balloon and someone told me to be careful because it might pop or explode.
I hate balloons. I hate blowing them up. I hate popping them. I hate buying them and having to put them in my car. I hate when one slowly falls down to the ground, because there will probably be a shard piece of dust on the floor and KABOOM there goes my face.
If you follow me on Instagram you saw that for Mabel's birthday I covered her floor in balloons.
I also hid coupons for things like Mabel and Mommy day, or Stay up Late.
So excited about getting Mom of the Year I wasn't thinking two steps ahead as to HOW she would get the coupons out of said balloons.
She woke up and was so excited. Then when I explained about the coupons she ran to wake her brother up to show him. Then she grabbed a balloon and... tried.to.bite.it.
I'm pretty sure I scared her for life with my over the top reaction of a mix of screaming and crying and hitting the balloon away from her.
Not wanting to ruin the whole thing for her. I pulled my shit together and handed her a knitting needle, told her to be EXTREMELY CAREFUL and hid in the living room in fetal position until the war zone was over.
She loved it and is so excited to use her coupons.
Call me crazy but I'm even thinking of starting this a new birthday tradition.
I'll just need some Valium.