Fuck You Summer.
You are not my friend.
Though Owen was quite excited about your arrival, hopping off the bus yesterday, his last day of school, asking me;
Yes. Here you are, all cocky with your 95 degrees and 112% humidity. You do know that this is not Mississippi right?
Pardon me while I tell everyone who proclaims;
"It's not the heat, it's the humidity."
Would the humidity be unbearable if it were only 60 degrees? I think NOT. It most certainly is the HEAT. Making me cranky and crotchety and unfit for human interaction. Even if the unfitness may be very close to my baseline.
It's the kind of moist heat that makes breathing a chore. That makes one not bother taking a morning shower as seconds later, one will be sweating profusely.
It's the kind of heat that makes this girl happy she doesn't have a set of balls. Because if I did, you know they'd be big ones, and they'd be hanging down to my ankles.
Well Summer? What would you suggest I do with my children on a beastly day such as this? The beach? You've got to be kidding me.
Schlepping two kids and all the gear and food and drinks and slathering three inches of sunblock every 20 minutes and one of them can't hear and no way I'm bringing $3000 worth of hearing aids to the beach because last time I heard salt water and sand are not conducive to proper hearing aid function and how does one entertain a three year old who can't swim and a 7 year old who can't swim OR hear at the beach anyway? Sounds like a fucking blast.
So Summer, all 95 degrees and 112% humidity of you. Fuck you. We'd rather spend the morning at the library.
And I'm so happy that we did.
Because Owen made a friend.
A Hearing kid who marched up to him and asked;
"You want to be my friend?"
Seriously. It gets cuter.
"Hey. What's that? Are you sick?" Pointing to hearing aids.
"Hearing aids. Here look." Rips the thing out of his head and hands it to kid whose jaw is now on floor and eyes bugging out of head.
"See? Battery here, and yellow and red and everything!"
"Coooooooool." As I hold it up to kid's ear so he can hear how loud they make everything sound.
Running around wrestling and chasing ensues for next 30 minutes. Stopping for a minute for Owen to pull up his shirt so he can show his new friend his scars;
"See! No tube! You have tube?"
"Ummmmmmm. No?" Pulling up his own shirt and looking, just to be sure.
Kid's Daddy appears and I do a little explaining, in case the kid has questions about tube later on.
Daddy is nice and we chat.
I say a little silent Thank You to Old Navy for providing this dress (mine is blue not black):
Which paired with my Wonderbra, creates the illusion of breasts that are not teensy, and dare I say, actually perky?
Which I catch nice Daddy staring at.
Which causes me to inwardly high five myself for getting checked out.
I want to wear this dress every day.
And I just may get to do that as Old Navy is having a 30% off sale, and I have two more of these babies on their way to me, and my boobs.
So there Summer. Who needs you and your stupid moist heat anyway.
Basking in the glow of being ogled by an actual member of the opposite sex, I take myself and my kids, and my boobs, to the air conditioned mall. Ha.
Two hours and very little money are spent. The only purchase being a delightful lunch at the Chinese place where my perfectly behaved children eat broccoli and rice.
The perfect behavior a direct result of promises of DVD viewing in the air conditioned comfort of Mommy's room once we return home.
Which kills another two hours.
Children are allotted an hour or so in the muggish outdoors before retiring once again to the air conditioned haven of Mommy's room.
Until they're sent off to their sweltering bedrooms for the night.
Leaving Mommy back in the cool comfort of her now quiet room, sipping vino and dicking around on computer.
Take that Summer.
I could totally do this for another two months.