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I hear sprinklers click on and chug to life outside on the greenbelt bordering our house. The sprinklers used to come on around 7pm, which is a terrible time because that’s when people go on walks. Our family has been caught in more than one greenbelt sprinkler flash mob. It’s like they coordinate or something. But some city planner decided the early, dark hours of the day would be better, so the time was sensibly changed.
In the middle of the night, the only people who are aware of watering are insomniacs and raccoons. Like me. I’m not a raccoon, but I feel like one.
Being pregnant means being nocturnal. It’s one way to prepare a mother for life in the wee hours. Last night, I was being prepared, again. As if I don’t know. I tiptoed down stairs to look for a cup of yogurt or a banana. Neither was in the house, so I indulged a new craving. I decorated a slice of buttermilk white with too much honey and took it back to bed with me. I sat up with my back against the headboard and listened to my husband’s breathing as I nibbled. The baby kicked.
Over the next hour, I heard a diesel train’s blasting horn, coyotes howling, light wind. I played solitaire on my phone with slightly sticky fingers. Toward 4am, I often hear a bird whose song sounds like Nelson Muntz’s laugh. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. Repeatedly. You need new material, dude. It’s amazing your species hasn’t died out because if I were a female Muntzbird, there’s no way I’d be nesting with you. By that time, it’s hard to not take the mocking song personally.
I always fall back to sleep, somehow. Occasionally, I give myself spelling tests by word association. The first word that pops into my mind, I spell. That will spark another word. Spell. Then another. RACCOON gives way to MASK which sparks ROBBER and that leads to PENITENTIARY. Then I wonder if I got it right or not because my brain doesn’t have wavy red underlining.
And then my eyes pop open to a bright, sunny room. Sleep happened. After oatmeal, I type a post and am happy to see I spelled PENITENTIARY right.
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This is a part of The Extraordinary Ordinary’s Tuesday Just Write institution.
Two birthdays in one week means having two birthdays in one week. In other words, we were sugared, gifted, ice-creamed nearly to death. Aidan turned 15 and Sam turned 12. Both chose ways to celebrate reflecting their unique tastes and personalities and I was happy to oblige.
Unfortunately, Sam’s celebration wasn’t as fun as we originally hoped. I managed to get a massive toothache in my last bottom molar on the right side. At first, I thought my jaw was jacked up. I had terrible pain in my jaw, neck, and up into my right eye socket. But after 2 days of suffering, I realized it was actually a tooth. Of course, it was a Saturday when I had my epiphany. That meant I had to go to an emergency dental place, where they recommended extraction. There was a massive cavity hiding under an existing filling. With the root canal and crown I’d need, my kids would be going back to school with sticks for pencils. So, the tooth fairy came last night. Instead of leaving money, she left paperwork to submit to our insurance company. Being a grown-up is overrated. I want my dollar!
Sam wanted to go to a LEGO exhibit at History Colorado OR the Railroad Museum for his birthday outing, but because I was occupied in a chair wearing a paper bib, his special day is rescheduled. Sorry, Sam.
There were happier times, though. We got to see Mr. Baby again. It was a good week, as you can see:
 Lemon cake with fluffy lemon buttercream frosting and crushed lemon drops on top  Bowling for a Birthday!  There she rolls...  It takes a lot of balls to take a big family bowling  Loved seeing her cake practically on fire! Cool effect with lemon drops  Summer breakfast, winter boots. He said he was "Gettin' ready for Christmas."  Mr. Baby's profile  Giddyup, bear 
 Sam's 12th birthday dream dinner ~ Grilled cheese from Culver's  Really, he was happy  Sam's requested so-called cake: 16 large cinnamon twists from Lamar's ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer break, capped and recapped:
Dipping our toes into summer’s cauldron ~ Week 1
Slamming on the brakes ~ Week 2
Bouncing back beautifully ~ Week 3
Solving a sweet mystery ~ Week 4
Soaking the celebration ~ Week 5
Water > Fire
It was like celebrating Christmas without a tree, stockings, a nativity, church by candlelight. The 4th of July in a state with a recent fireworks ban (due to crispy conditions and deadly wildfires) means a day without smoke, booms, more booms, rockets red glare, things bursting in air. We had to come up with an alternative celebration and we didn’t have to look far: Water.
On July 3rd, we drove to my parents’ home in Grand Junction—my hometown—spending the bulk of Week 5 bathed in grand-parental spoiling, good food, late nights, and a few hometown haunts. I do not envy their July water bill, though. We used a little bit. Just a little.
Originally, we were going to fill 200 water balloons, but after 150 and several hours, we called it good enough. And it was. There was plenty of water play with an epic squirt gun battle, slip and slide, and later in the week, fountain fun.
We will never forget our fire-less 4th.
 Moody mountains must be crossed  A Rest Stop: Who says you have to stop? Or rest?  My mom's hydrangeas  Two things, both born in July  150 water balloons is plenty of water balloons  150 water balloons last about 47 seconds  Aftermath: Water ballon pelts are collected in exchange for cookies  Water gun grin  Battle Royale  Slip, slide, slam  Slam, slide, slip  Tommy learns what it's like to be the jelly in a donut  Love  Summer glory  Marilyn and Archie  New hat...for Fall...I acknowledge it's coming  Wet water week for the win! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer break, capped and recapped:
Dipping our toes into summer’s cauldron ~ Week 1
Slamming on the brakes ~ Week 2
Bouncing back beautifully ~ Week 3
Solving a sweet mystery ~ Week 4
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