Sunday, August 9, 2009

I Hate Baloons

I hate balloons. No. There was no quirky, slightly misleading title to this post. There is no interesting build up. The truth here is bad enough.

I am a mother who loathes balloons.

I do. I can't stand them. They make me cringe every time I see one, and I am not allergic to latex. So, the reaction is purely mental for me.

I have to say that my hatred probably stemmed from my own mother. As a child, like most children, I loved balloons. Every time we would get a balloon, though, my mom would tell us this horror story about a little boy who put a balloon up to his mouth and popped it. According to her, pieces went into his throat, and if I remember correctly, they couldn't get them all out, and he died before anyone could get him to the hospital. Now, I have no idea how true this story is, or when it happened, but I believe my mom really feared for us when she told us this story. So in turn, I now fear for my children, and think of this very story every time they have one.

The hatred is so deep seated, though, that they don't even have to have a balloon for me to get agitated. Just seeing one is enough to start my skin crawling.

I know that the moment someone beside them gets a balloon, or there is an opportunity for them to get a balloon, that we have to have that discussion about why they can't have one, and I have to come up with some terrible excuse. I feel like a bad mom because I won't let them have a simple little balloon, one of life's joys for a child. It isn't even that I am being a bad mom, but more a little nutty and overly concerned mom. It is just the way I am and I like to avoid the situation at all costs.

I try to be cool about things, and realize that kids will be kids, but seriously, I just can't quite get past all my fears when it comes to balloons. I know in my head that this is my issue, and that kids get balloons all the time without inhaling them. So, I am trying to work on that. I am trying to give them some time to play with them, and just not freak about them all the time. Maybe one day, I can even be excited with them when they get a balloon, or at least not want to handle them like I am a member of the bomb squad, taking care of a suspicious package. Maybe.


Tanyetta said...

This makes perfect sense. Especially since you were told that awful story growing up. Thankfully you know it was all a made up story but, still I can feel your anxiety about it.