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It's mid-June, and the weather for the past week has been just as I would expect Hell to be, minus the sulfur and the torture. Well, the repetitive torture, seeing as I can escape into the glorious abode known as my air conditioned house here in non-Hell.
The high for at LEAST the last 7 days has been between 95 and 100. The heat index, you ask? How hot is FEELS?
Well, this is from today:
That's right. It says 106. Friday, it said 111. That's one hundred and eleven degrees.
Here I am, a stay-at-home mom with two rowdy boys, who thought summer was a time to sit out in the yard, drink lemonade and play in the sprinkler. A time to enjoy their youth, chase crickets (and the dogs), and play tag. I pictured me tan, with my feet in our kiddie pool and snapping pics of the kiddos.
What I got though? Nothing even close.
Conner walked TWO ENTIRE STEPS out our front door this morning at TEN THIRTY - it was already 90 and the humidity was just short of a locker-room sauna. He was doing his favorite chore, taking out the trash with his daddy when he turns to Michael and says "It's weally hot". Michael told him he could wait under the cover of the front porch if he'd like, and by the time 10 seconds had passed and Michael had placed the trash in the bin, Conner had escaped indoors.
Our air conditioner turns on around 8 AM, and stays on the entire day, cutting off sometime around 10:30 or 11 PM - we keep it on 77...
Conner is halfway through his VBS/Summer School, and very much enjoying himself. He has less hesitation about going, and is enthusiastic about seeing his friends.
It's me that's hesitant.
I have scoured our church for the quickest route - the one that leaves us outside the least amount of time. I've found that using the side parking lot means I only have to walk about 25 feet from my car to the door with all 25 pounds of Chase on my hip (he can walk, yes, but it adds both time and obstacles).
In the morning, it's not too bad. At 8:45, it's still around 85-88 and the humidity is in the "just out of the shower but the bathroom door was open" realm.
It's the noon pick-up that's killing me. I park, it's scorching and we drudge inside. I march up the stairs, grab Conner and let him guide Chase to the doors that lead to the parking lot. Then, I pick up Chase, and briskly walk to the vehicle.
I have been gone, TOPS, 10 minutes.
The car is MINIMALLY 110 degrees.
I have to strap both children in, and by that time, I have pits stains, butt sweat, inner thigh sweat and my hair is ruined. Mascara is running down my face and my kids are yelling for the air conditioner.
(Which begs the question - Can I wear short-shorts and a tank top to church to pick up Conner? Because, I've been wearing shirts that cover my ta-tas and my "conservative" shorts, but people, 100 degree weather is grounds for "slutty" clothing, in my book. But, then God is all "Amanda, it's CHURCH" and I'm all "God, it's HOT! Can you PLEASE fix it?" and he's all "Amanda, I'm busy saving babies and puppies right now, and don't you have bigger things to pray about?" and I'm all "God, ok, you are right. You are always right. I'd like to take this time to pray for those babies and those puppies. But, if you get a second, could you lower the temp a smidge?" and then God, in his Big Daddy voice says "Amaaannddda... what did I just say?" and then I stop questioning God's plans for Southern Weather.) (But seriously, a little relief, God?) (and CAN I wear tank tops? Because I am RUINING shirts with all the pit stains) (cough... and get back to the original blog topic...)
Conner starts trying to tell me about his day, but he has to YELL just to get his voice over the roar of the A/C on full blast. I still don't know how school is going... it never gets cool enough to find out....
In the Winter, I hate the cold. In the Spring, I can't breathe. In the Fall, I'm in love, but in Alabama...well... Fall lasts 3 weeks AT BEST.
I'm done whining for now, but that's only because I'm sitting here blogging in my underwear.
