The Ballard Bunch

All right, Cami. I’ve been tagged and I intend to comply. :) Here goes…

I think I have a mild case of OCD. Maybe it’s not even mild, but I like to tell myself that. Just today I was going through Shanna’s bins of baby boy clothes (not because I’m knocked up – I’m not – but because eventually I will be and she’s looking to get rid of stuff as she’s done with it), and I found myself unable to store items that weren’t snapped and folded and sorted by clothing type (i.e. short sleeve shirts, jeans, pajamas, sweaters, etc.) I fold my towels a very particular way and, although I appreciate any help offered, I find that I’ll refold them if needed (after the helper leaves). I can’t decide if it’s a fault or not – I’m just very particular.

I hate Sloppy Joes. This may come as a shock to a lot of family members (we tend to have them at several family functions throughout the year). I would never want anyone to plan around me, but I really don’t’ like them. And, usually, I can find enough of something else to substitute if they are being served. Beau, on the other hand, LOVES THEM. And I’ve come up with the world’s best solution – Sloppy Joe Tuesday! One Tuesday a month I have BUNCO with some girlfriends and need to plan an easy, quick dinner for Beau and the girls. He gets something he likes, and I get to avoid it without hassle.

I’m afraid of the dark. Really, like totally terrified of it. Sometimes I have to work late at night down in the basement office and I book it up the stairs regularly. And, appreciating that I may be one of the clumsiest people alive, I tend to fall on my way up a lot.

My daughter ate poo last night and I kind of laughed a little. I must sound like the worlds worst mom! Let me tell the story first: As you are all aware, we are in the throws of a marathon potty training session. Tatum is still working on the skills and yesterday demonstrated that she’s not quite there. Or that she is there, just stubborn as hell. The girls tend to play quite well back in either bedroom, so I thought nothing of it as they were back there for 15 minutes or so yesterday evening. It was a perfect opportunity to sit on the couch and veg for two seconds. Of course, the second I sit down and appear to be doing nothing, Beau comes home. (I secretly fear that he thinks I do nothing all day). Tatum comes out to the living room a few minutes later and says, “Mamma. Hayden has icky on her hands.” I asked Beau to go back and check things out, thinking they’d gotten into diaper rash cream or something relatively harmless. Then I hear (pardon my French, but it must be said), “HOLY SHIT!” come out of my husband’s mouth (shocking, I know). I run back to find a trail - and we’re not talking small - from Tate’s bedroom, through the hallway and into my room of nasty, stinky, gooey brown poo. Tatum had taken off her panties and pooed in her room, leading me to believe that she knows exactly what she’s doing, but that she’s too stubborn to actually go to the toilet. Heaven forbid that a bodily function interrupt the limited playtime she has all day long. And sweet, innocent little Hayden sat there with poo on her person – including her lips. I know she ate it. She eats everything. I wanted to die – I was so grossed out. But something, in the back of my mind, found it slightly comical as I spent 45 minutes on my hands and knees cleaning carpets while Beau spent time thoroughly cleaning each girl. I am a bad mom, huh? She ate poo!

I love reality television. Most of you probably already know this about me, but I really love it. Big Brother? My total fave. Age of Love? Can’t stop watching it. My Super Sweet 16? Help me. And honorable mentions - Singing Bee & The World Series of Pop Culture? Get out – I want to be on those shows – I’d rock the house!

I don’t know how many boys I’ve kissed in my lifetime. I tried counting after reading Cami’s sweet confession (her hubby is her one and only) and I couldn’t do it! I gave them out like pretzels, I guess. Kissing whore. Reformed kissing whore. But, I fear, my husband could have been just as bad. He made out with all kinds of girls before we started dating. Ask him, he’ll tell you. For the record – he was the first boy I ever kissed on a first date. I guess I kissed boys without A date, though, so that makes me just as guilty.

Our engagement was recorded off of a police car dash. Beau set it up so that he’d get pulled over (by a cop in his family ward), gets arrested and proposes with hands cuffed. I was seriously fooled and so mad at him after the stressful realization that I wouldn’t have to explain to my mom that the boy I was dating got arrested at Trolley Square. Luckily, I got to call her with better news. It was a great proposal and I’m so glad I have it on tape! Plus, Yvonne and I got engaged on the same weekend, as predicted by both of us the week prior. Go us!

I must admit, that was fun and less difficult than I’d imagined. Tag, you’re all it!!!!