I’m not the biggest fan of summer. In fact, I can think of several reasons why I am not cheering the glories of summer. Here are 10…I’ll hold onto the others for another time when I’m as grumpy as I am today with our heat index.
10. My children don’t sleep in. Doesn’t happen. I remember that I never was one to really sleep in at my house when I was growing up, however, I gave my mom the courtesy of at least sleeping until at least 8. She woke up at 5 most days, so that was 3 hours of alone time. I get zilch. They come wake ME up each morning.
9. My hair is a permanent frizz-ball. I blame my Eastern European roots. I have a lot of wavy hair that gets bigger and bigger as the dew point goes higher and higher. Remember the show FRIENDS? Remember the episode where they are in the Bahamas and Monica’s hair grows to epic proportions? Yeah. That. I have tried every anti-frizz product on the market. Baloney, I say. I get these obnoxious little curly cues up on my forehead, too. They were cute when I was 7. At 37, not so much.
8. The boys bicker. A lot. More than during the school year. I know it’s the whole being together more thing. But holy moly. I am over it. Wayyyy over it. I kind of want to put them in a room, lock the door and tell them to hug it out. That might not end well, though.
7. I get all hot and sweaty. I don’t glisten. I sweat. There’s no euphemism for it. I dislike never feeling fully dry and sticking to everything. This would be where my sensory avoidance is evident. Very evident. Yuck.
6. My asthma bothers me more. The heavy air, thick with mold spores, attacks my lungs and makes me feel like a 300 pound person is sitting on my chest. I have to slow down. Way down. Exercising outdoors is almost non-existant. Thank goodness for air conditioning and exercise videos. And treadmills. And air conditioning. Did I mention the air conditioning???
5. Everything stinks more. Hubz has said that I have a sense of smell like a bloodhound. That’s great and all, except when the heat and humidity cause garbage and yard waste to decay at an exponentially faster rate. Just taking our garbage out makes me gag. Also? I am at armpit level of most people. Yeah. Double gag.
4. My children don’t respond very well to the phrase, “we’re just hanging out”. Part of it is our always-scheduled lifestyles. Part of it is that they crave structure. My childhood summers of improvisation and creative pretend play where we left at 9:00 in the morning and didn’t really come home until it was dinnertime at 6:00 are long gone. Even if we don’t have plans, I have to come up with something (admittedly, that is usually watching TV) as our “plan” for the next hour or two or five.
3. It’s hot and humid. Did I mention this already? I really don’t like the heat and humidity. The Midwest is great and all because we get the seasons..but really, I could do without the extremes. 96 and a heat index of 104 is not exactly fabulous. Especially when one opens the door and the air hits like a ton of bricks (on the chest…remember the asthma). It’s so not cool feeling like the oven is blasting when I step outside to get the morning paper at 7:00 in the morning.
2. The way my children react to heat and humidity. Mostly I’m talking about Tate. It causes his system to go haywire. He is constantly sensory-seeking. He’s upside down, sideways, and backwards. He becomes very oral and ornery. Like the rest of us, he slows down, including his processing speed, which is already somewhat slower than the average bear’s. I try to respect that and wait for him, but oh my…it is hard…especially when I’m hot and tired and pushed to my limits because of the heat, humidity, my aching lungs, my sticky arms and legs, and general frustration with the kids’ bickering. Jake and Cole have shorter tempers and less tolerance for each other and Tate, as well. It’s awesome. And when I say awesome, I mean not.
1. The mosquitoes! Oh dear God in heaven above, the mosquitoes. Right now they are the size of hummingbirds, and they are relentless. I stepped out on the front porch, and one dive-bombed my head. I smashed it and ended up with blood all over my hands. Gross. And they attacked Tate last week. He is allergic, so he swelled. Poor kid got a bite on his eyelid. He couldn’t open his eye on Friday. It was that bad. And we’re all itchy on top of being sweaty and hot and short-tempered and bored and sleep-deprived and asthmatic. Darn mosquitoes.