Hot Air Balloons and Birthdays

Today is going to be a shorter than normal post, because all this week I have been busy getting ready for my first vacation with the new job.

I am going to take a glorious 3 days off (6 if you count the weekend and Canada Day) and go to the cottage.

It’s going to be great.

But, I am trying to keep to my ‘Every Thursday’ post schedule, so I thought I would share some news with you:

I am excited, Internet.

VERY excited.

Tomorrow evening, barring bad weather, I am going to complete another 30 Before 30 item and I am very psyched about it.

At least, while I’m still on the ground, I’m excited about it.

Tomorrow evening, my Mum and I are going to ride in a Hot Air balloon….which should be interesting, as neither of us is a fan of heights.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a view. I’m totally content to climb a bunch of stuff (stairs, mountains, etc) to get up high enough for a good view. God knows I’ve smoked my head off enough historical landmarks throughout the world to testify the lengths I will go to for a view. However, heights themselves, I am not a fan of.

Mum’s the same. Both of us prefer to have something solid underneath us in the event of being high up. Like, I will gladly stand at the top of the cliffs of Moher in Ireland (and have done so), but put me atop a ladder or at the top of a tall stepladder and SOMEONE HOLD THIS LADDER, I WANT TO GET DOWN, WHY CAN’T I GRAB ONTO ANYTHING?

I hate ladders. Being up that high without feeling like you have support?

So, being in a wicker basket, suspended hundreds of feet in the air by flames that inflate a giant balloon seems like a good idea.

Honestly, I’m not too worried about it, but I think Mum is a little nervous.

We’ve talked about it on and off and she’s worried she won’t be brave enough, which I think is ridiculous given that she raised me and remains married to my Father, both things require far more stones than climbing in a basket.

My only concern is that if Mum is freaking out, I might start to freak out.

There’s some weird instinctual reaction when you see your parent having an emotion. It’s like “NO, you’re not supposed to do that! I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

One time Mum and I were talking about sentimental family stuff and she started welling up and because she got teary, I got teary, and it went on like a vicious cycle as we argued:

Me: Stop crying! You’re making me cry!

Mum: I can’t help it, you’re crying and it makes me cry.

Me: I’m not crying, you’re crying!

And so forth.

We’re adults.

Though, even if one of us is terrified, I doubt we’ll let on until it gets real. Like, a very special episode of Saved By The Bell, real.

If you don’t understand this reference you either didn’t have TV in the 90s or are too young for me to explain things to without puppets

I have no doubt that tomorrow evening, providing the weather is good, Mum and I will climb into that air balloon and have a wonderful time. However, I also have no doubt that things are going to get ridiculous whether or not one of us panics.

I’m really lucky to have a Mum who’s willing (if occasionally reluctant) to do things like this with me. She always pushes me to do the things I have to do and I like to think that I push her to do the things that she wouldn’t do otherwise.

We’re good for each other like that.

This weekend is special not only because of air balloon travel and adventure (who knows, we might end up in Oz and create our OWN corrupt government, with blackjack. And strippers. It’ll be like The Wizard of Oz meets the TV show Oz) but because this weekend is my Mum’s birthday.

There’s a lot of personal background story here that those of you who know me will understand, but suffice it to say that whenever it’s my or Mum’s birthday, I always take a minute to stop and take stock of things.

I have friends who have lost their Mum’s way too young.

My Mom lost her own Mum way too young.

I have friends who don’t have the luxury of having the kind of bantering friendship with their Mums that I have with mine.

I can’t put into words how lucky I am to have a Mom who raised me to become and independent woman, the kind of person who does things she’s afraid of, and the kind who loves her Mum enough to drag her along through her own personal growth journey.

Mum: You are the most compassionate, soft-hearted, money-smart, patient (living with Dad and me? SO PATIENT), and loving person I know.

I am so lucky not only to call you Mum, but to call you my friend.

And also to call you Fluffy.

I can’t believe you put up with that.

Happy Early Birthday, Mum.

I love you.

And I don’t need you to be turned into a bear to value you. Unlike SOME daughters.


Posted on June 25, 2015, in Random Life Stuff and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Thank you Kricket. I love you too..and P.S. You made me tear up damn it!!


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