Balloon Man

Tonight I went downtown with a friend and five small children to see the most recent art exhibit. Though I was often yelling at my kids or corralling them back toward the sidewalk instead of the busy streets, we found moments of fun in the random art locations. At one stop, we played the piano for about ten minutes, each taking turns at our renditions of "Chopsticks".

We made our way to an eatery where the adults enjoyed Greek food and the kids ate hotdogs. We joined in a couple hands-on exhibits and then continued on our way. As we walked, we spotted a man making balloon animals. If I hadn't actually seen the animals, I would wonder if he was a less-than-upstanding citizen just watching onlookers. Anyway, the kids saw him and made a beeline toward him. He successfully modeled a sword for my son in moments. Then my daughter requested a cat. He groaned about how hard cats are to make and in the process popped three balloons.

At this point, it was one kid down, four to go. There would be NO moving on. The kids were trying to talk to him, but he looked up at us instead and tried to engage in a conversation about his balloon shortage. We nodded our heads and watched the clock tick as several other kids lined up. He opted for a monkey instead and handed it to her.

He started working on the next balloon when his cell phone, perched properly in his belt holster, rang. He leaned his tattooed arm across his thinned white scoop neck tank and answered it. With several children around him waiting patiently, he had a conversation on the phone which put a halt to his creative endeavors. A few minutes later, he began again on a silly hat balloon.

While modeling, he explained that he had been talking to his "supplier" on the phone (we didn't ask what they were supplying) and how he went through nearly 1,000 balloons this weekend. I didn't feel too bad for the guy since he popped another one in the process. We still had to wait.

My daughter said "I'm glad we got to come down here tonight" and he responded dryly, "Yeah me too. The only thing I want to do after I worked a long day is sit here with you kids and make balloons." I thought it impossible that he could be that sarcastic and yet still muster up the energy to actually make the balloons. Who is making him do it? Is there a balloon mafia boss? Has he shorted his supplier and has to make up for it? Will his presence in a crowd of children really protect him?

He eventually made one for each of our kids. Then he looked up at us and said rudely "Could you at least make a donation?" Incredible.

Most vendors just put a jar out and you know what to do with it. This guy had to practically beg us. I'm sad to say that his ill-constructed figures popped on the walk home. Every single one of them ended up in the trash. However, after this fiasco, the highlight of the evening was when we boarded the city bus and rode a few blocks. My daughter's smile was so big that I temporarily forgot about the balloon man. Maybe he'll be there next time. If so, I'll walk the other way around the block.

Behind every woman there is a list

When this job change/world move started in March, I knew I would have my share to do. I have filled out countless visa applications, passport applications, and medical forms. As I rented out my house, sold cars, canceled policies, changed my address and moved my family into my parents’ house, there was increasingly more paperwork.

We are now in the countdown. I am preparing to take four kids on a 13 hour flight with 10 pieces of checked baggage, 5 small carry-on suitcases, and 5 backpacks. I got to thinking, if I lost a piece of luggage, how would I know which one? So I did what every mother would do----I took digital pictures of the luggage, got them printed at my favorite store and wrote the contents on the back. I’m pretty sure a picture speaks a thousand words and this way I’m saving myself tumbling over 10,000 Russian words.

My husband emailed me last week that while he was in a store, his beer top busted open in the cart and spewed all over the place. He was trying to communicate to the security guard that he needed a new one, but instead the guard opened it all the way for him and handed it back. Apparently they drink and drive carts. After single parenting four kids for six weeks, I can’t say I disapprove.

Knowing that airports are intimidating anyway with all the security and schedules, I figured I could save myself a little bit of heart-ache with this new list. I’ve also made myself one to obey when I arrive. Here’s a bit of it:

1. Get a bath. I have definitely showered in the past few weeks, but not without someone entering uninvited or breaking up a fight through the curtain. Does anybody else understand this? If so, give a shout out!

2. Send the kids to their rooms. Honestly, I think they will totally love this one. When my three year old screams “I just wanna be lone!” I get it.

3. Drink irresponsibly. Maybe not. Being hung-over in Russian is probably just as crummy as being hung-over in English.

4. Bake a HUGE batch of cookies for my hubby and my kids to enjoy. That’s the best way to really feel moved into a house.

5. Throw away all my other lists.

If you can’t tell already, I’m on the up-and-up. I’m starting to feel like the light at the end of the tunnel isn't a train, but instead an airplane flying on the Moscow horizon.

The tortoise may not have been married

I apologize for the absence. I keep trying to write something funny or uplifting, but to be honest I haven't felt funny or uplifting. Each day at 1pm I run down to the mailbox to see if my visa paperwork has come yet so I can make my way to Moscow to join my husband. How is it that in a culture where everything is digital and online that I still have to wait for paper visas to send to the consulate? It makes me think of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Granted, the slow paced tortoise wins in Aesop's prized fable, but maybe he wasn't really running to anybody.

It's my 29th birthday next week. My husband and I have been together for 13 1/2 years. Most of my life is filled up with time spent with him. Unfortunately, I'm living in my hometown where he and I went to high school and fell in love. It seems like every corner I can see him smiling and remember something special about that time or place. Nobody else can make me smile like he can.

Today, number 3's loose front tooth started to dangle and bleed.

This is not my job.

My brave husband has pulled dozens of teeth from 1 and 2, but 3 is always a different story. She wanted me to pull it and so out of necessity, I tried to yank it. As I yanked, she bit me. I tried again and she bit me again while simultaneously grabbing my wrist with her hand. This tug-o-war went on for half an hour. No tooth fairy tonight.

At bedtime, number 2 was unwilling to give up his bed for someone else (his mother) because he just sleeps better on the couch when it's not pulled out. Who knew my son would be the princess and the pea?

During prayers, number 4 sweetly prays "Dear Jesus, thanks for the day. Help Dad to not fall out of the plane in Russia. Amen." I'm sorry to say I laughed, but I totally did.

So here I sit. Waiting. Waiting. I've been out of my own house for 6 weeks and without my best pal for 5. I'm starting to feel like my poor sister who is always two weeks overdue with her babies. Everybody comes up to me and says "you're still here?" I know. If I could leave, I would. One of these days, I will win the race and move on.