During the week of Valentine’s my daughter’s school set up a balloon fundraiser. So I figured I’d buy one for each kid and make myself mom of the year. Did I end up mom of the year? Well read on, and you tell me.

So it’s Valentine’s balloon pick up day, and I march over to the school office to scoop up my balloon stash for the kiddos. Except, the order was somehow screwed up, and my balloons were not there. I was told I could come back tomorrow to get them. However, both my kids were totally anticipating these balloons. And they were standing there with me, so I was not getting out of there alive without some sort of helium object in each of their hands.

After a little begging, borrowing and stealing, the school director whipped up some magic, and got me two, shiny, mylar, Valentine’s Day balloons. I don’t know what it is about a mylar balloon, but kids go nuts for them. It’s like it’s a new puppy or something. Neither of my kids would part with it for a second. So I clipped and secured the balloons to their clothing, and we were on our way.

Next stop, the grocery store. Of course, the balloons had to participate. We did our shopping in a somewhat quick manner. I was trying to navigate our kiddie cart — you know the ones, with the plastic cars/seats in front of the grocery cart. So I’m forced to make the widest and most difficult lane turns in all of America? Yeah, those. But! I also had balloons coming out of each side of the cart, so I couldn’t really see when making my lane turns, and I may have wounded a few fellow grocers. Sorry people!

We’re finally cashing out, and the cashier dude hands me my receipt. Mission accomplished! My daughter starts panicking and crying. Her balloon somehow got loose and was at the top of the ceiling. I start panicking. The cashier was crying. A quick thinking manager comes running over with, I shit you not, a 10 foot poll and a roll of tape. She takes a crap load of tape, balls it up, and attaches it to the end of the poll. She raises the poll up to the balloon and pulls it down effortlessly as if she’d done that 100 times before. I thank her and we run out of there like the dickens.

I load the kids and the groceries into the car, and go back to check their seatbelt harnesses. Mikey, check! Sophia, che….oh fudge! As I was fastening her belt, her freaking balloon got loose and flew out the mother elfin’ door. She again, starts screaming in panic. I, like never before became some sort of militant ninja, weaving in and out of the parked cars, chasing this 5 dollar balloon across the pavement. Something, or someone was on my side that day, because just as the balloon was about to take flight, I was able to grasp it, and retrieve it safely. A passerby applauded me. I brought the balloon back to the car and handed it to my daughter.

Am I mother of the year? You bet your fuckin’ ass I am.