Neunundneunzig Luftballons

Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizon

Okay, so there weren’t ninety nine of them (more like seven) and they weren’t toy helium balloons (small water balloons actually), but the girls and I had fun with a friend playing in their front yard lobbing the ballons at each other and finishing the fun off with cold water dumped over heads–it had been a rather warm and humid day. Freya had a classic “What the fuck?!?!” look on her face when a balloon hit her feet and burst open, splashing halfway up the too-big t-shirt she’d been wearing. Luna didn’t get that we weren’t aiming for faces.

This water balloon fight was with the same friend who took us to the beach the other day. I had come to her house (or rather she’d brought me to her house) to do a mountain of laundry in exchange for me doing some of her domestic chores. It’s better than spending money I cannot afford to spend to use machines at a laundromat while trying to keep my kids from climbing into industrial dryers. She’s a nice lady, and yesterday’s visit included a dinner of grilled items, pasta salad, and sliced watermelon.

In the middle of the night…

Unfortunately, the laundry took longer than I’d meant it to and I found myself still folding and sorting items at nearly three in the morning, with one last load still tumbling in the basement dryer. Fortunately, my friends were gracious enough to have already allowed me to tuck the kids down well before that and the natural progression was for all of us tired people to just go ahead and get some sleep. Unfortunately, my children do not care what time they’ve been tucked into which bed–the asscrack of dawn is their favorite time to suddenly pop awake demanding sustenance, hydration, and obnoxiously loud playtime.

Here I am, blogging and Facebooking in my friends’ livingroom, wishing I could go back upstairs and crawl back into their guest bed for a few more hours, while Luna and Freya are bound and determined to see how many boundaries they can break through this morning. While they’re in the mood to treat my friends’ livingroom like a fucking bouncy house, I’m still trying to recover from the strange dream I had last night wherein I was in a bathroom for what I thought was a need to empty my bladder but ended up pushing out enormous amounts of fluid and blood which turned out to be amniotic fluid and I was toilet-birthing like all those crazy chicks on “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant (Because I Pay No Attention To My Body)”.

In said dream, apparently a baby head started coming out, but apparently an oxygen mask and clear garbage sack popped out too, you know for helpfulness and easy cleanup…I never did find out what happened with the birth, though, cause I was shaken from the painless birthing process by my actual children (who were birthed in a hospital). I know that as a mother I’ll never get a full night’s rest as long as I shall live, but it gets annoying sometimes. Still, I’m grateful to them for keeping me from learning the gender (and possibly species) of this strange toilet-baby.


As of now, that last load is still in the dryer because I do not wish to take both girls into the basement to pull the load out and do not trust them alone on the ground floor of my friends’ house. I have no idea when I’ll finally finish this laundry, but I hope that my children and roommates are grateful for the effort I put in to gather, wash, fold, and sort both clothing and linens. Chances are the kids, at least, won’t be, and I have to learn to be okay with that, too.

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2 thoughts on “Neunundneunzig Luftballons

  1. Definitely sounds like you are staying busy as usual. Glad to see that you are still keeping up with your writing as well. Hope that you are doing well, and as always, here’s some positive encouragement to keep writing! 🙂

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