Riding the heat wave

Is it me, or did it just get ridiculously hot?

Usually I pride myself on my desert heritage where we lived in the 90s for nine months out of the year. I’m rolling my eyes at all the northerners, the ones going on and on about how it’s soooo hot.

But even I have to admit, this last week has me trying on the phrase “Summer Minnesotan.”

After all, there are Winter Texans, right?

The last time I remember this many 100 degree days was when I was pregnant during the Summer of ’98 and we hit a record for the most 100 degree days in a row. Then when I was pregnant over the Summer of ’02, we had the flood that sent water over the spillway at the lake.

We should all be grateful that the Prosapios stopped with #2.

Anyway, given conditions out there, I’ve discovered there are certain things I simply refuse to do when it’s over 100 degrees.

I refuse to bake. This is in a vain hope that by banning all forms of heat we’ll stop the insanity. I like to think of it as my bit to stop localized global warming (which is a contradiction of terms, but hey, it’s hot).

I refuse to go shopping because there is just something about walking across an asphalt parking lot when it’s 104. When your shoes are sticking to the parking lot, it’s a signal there’s nothing in that you need that bad. Except ice.

I refuse to stand outside for more than 30 seconds unless dragged kicking and screaming by dogs who insist that I’m the one who’s all unreasonable about house training.

I refuse to exercise unless it involves cold water or unless it’s 5 am.

I refuse to get up early because it’s already hot anyway. An there is no water within 300 miles that’s still cold.

I refuse to remember my pledge to get one box out of the attic every day and get rid of things because I’m fairly sure I will go up in flames if I even OPEN the attic door.

I refuse to turn on lights because I’m convinced that most of our house is glowing with radiant heat until 2 am.

Let’s hope that the early sightings of El Nino, which would bring rain and coolness, turn out to be true and not just the ravings of weathermen who have run out of “it’s so hot” jokes.

Because otherwise I’m not going to get anything done around here.

Autumn’s early preview

I had almost forgotten what the world sounded like without air conditioning.

On Saturday night we went outside on the deck and couldn’t bring ourselves to go back indoors. So out came Sierra with the blanket, the BINGO game and a few extra lights. Which was a relief since we’d been playing “pick the card” with Mireya, which is not nearly as challenging since it only involves picking from two cards – over and over and over.

So we settled in on our Bingo marathon. Bingo is always a marathon at our house because we always have to play until everyone gets a chance to yell Bingo. Boy, are my kids in for a surprise when they go to their first game at the Bingo hall. I can just see Mireya stomping up to the ball machine operator, demanding he continue calling out numbers until she gets her Bingo.

I feel for him already.

I am a big fan of Summer, but there’s nothing like that first break in the air when Autumn peeks around the corner and blows a cool breeze onto your neck. Sure, it’s just tease, a quick wave while Summer had her back turned. Then the heat is back, the plants wilt as Summer pulls out the blow dryer one for one last time.

There are a dozen little rituals of fall that our children bring alive.

There is the vain attempt to save brilliant red and golden leaves that turn brown in just a few days.

There’s the figuring out when is the absolute last day you can go outside in flip flops without your toes freezing.

There’s the extra fun waking up in the dark and then, eventually, eating dinner in the dark.

We also have to relearn how to deal with zippers on jackets and learn to accept that gloves, like socks, will only occasionally match.

And my favorite: diving into piles of leaves and forgetting, for once, that you’ve got a thing about bugs that hide in piles of leaves.

For once our cabinets will be filled with clean towels and the smell of chlorine will disappear from our house and hair. We’ll have soup again and no one will complain that the ice maker is broken again.

And everyone will get a turn to win at Bingo.

Confessions of a loafing mom

School starts Monday. Last year I was relieved. This year I feel like I owe my daughters’ teachers’ an explanation. Or an apology.

Last year we did Summer reading.

This Summer we did Summer loafing (do you get a T-shirt for that? How about just a pillow?).
Last year we worked on our math skills during the break.

This Summer the closest we got to math was checking the SPF on the sunscreen and the depth markers on the pool.

Last year we did at least one science project that involved research on the internet, a notebook and a formal presentation.

This Summer we had a surprise biology lesson when we found out that the mouse we bought to replace Patches (who was lost in a recent cat vs mouse drama) was pregnant. Next we’ll have a marketing lesson as we try to find the mouselettes (or what ever you call baby mice) a new home without a reptile. I am not raising food here.

Oh well. One out of three isn’t bad, is it?

But I still feel terrible. I’ve been a terrible substitute teacher this Summer. All my lesson plans went out the window early. Every big idea has remained unchecked on the “keep ‘em ready for learning” checklist.

This is why any time I entertain the idea of exploring teaching as a possible career change, I feel lightheaded. I can’t stick to a grocery list, let alone a lesson plan. Sure we’re doing some late Summer cramming, but it’s likely to have the same result as any crash course. Lots of jumbled information swimming around in a sea of stuffed animals, bubble gum, and slightly damp towels.

So an extra shout out to our teachers who make up for those of us who have embraced summer vacation a little too fully. We promise to pick up the slack, help with homework, and try to encourage our kids to learn about something more than how to tell when a mouse is pregnant and not just fat.

By the way – anyone need a pet for his or her classroom? We’ve got a few to spare.

I Get Summer. Finally.

Here we are, midway through the never never land of Summer vacation. Once you get out of school yourself and enter the work world, it’s easy to forget what summer vacation is supposed to be like. Pretty soon you’re talking like a government official, saying that schools should go to a year round schedule and that kids forget too much over the Summer.

That’s because you’ve been all funned out. You have gotten trapped into the “everyone has to work all the time” song and you are singing it along with everyone else. Trust me, I know. I used to be the soprano on the second row, near the back.

You just may have forgotten what summer is like when you’re a kid. I had. I think this is the first year I really got it. Last year I was busy making Summer too much like the school year with so many planned activities the word vacation had pretty much disappeared in favor of “development.” Ick.

This year I’ve seen the light. I finally get “summer.” The amnesia of adulthood has lifted and I’m back to remembering what makes summer, well, SUMMER.

Summer is 10 to 10. Go to sleep at 10 pm, wake up at 10 am.

Summer is going swimming when it’s hot, dressing your dogs in t-shirts for fun, and lying around the house like lizards, blinking only during commercials.

Summer is a new set of goggles, a new bathing suit and new tan lines that are helpful when your mom is lining up your suit for the 5th time that week and it’s only Tuesday.

Summer is ice cream, cereal for dinner, and melons, melons, melons.

Summer is having adventures, sometimes in your room, sometimes flying away from home for the first time, sometimes on the diving board.

Summer is learning how to swim in the deep end, stand up for yourself, and learning how to pretend to cry so well during a video shoot with your sister that you have adults from around the house running to your aid. Which makes you cry for real.

Summer is scraped toes from rough pool bottoms, suntanned noses and golden highlights in dark hair.

Summer is over too soon, and well worth the month it takes to catch back up in school.

At least at our house it is. But check with me in August, I may be desperately circling the grade school by then.