Me, venting hot air

So, this whole summer thing is sort of wearing me out.  I think it's a combination of the heat, the fact that my kids have been out of school for so long that they have reverted back to their native, savage ways, and just generally too much of everything.  I feel weary, and my back hurts, and I about this time every summer I start to think ahead to the following summer and how I'll do things differently to create a more relaxing outcome.

Perhaps part of it is that this summer I am running around after a toddler who is hellbent on entropy.  Some days I decide that it will be best to watch her at all times so that she doesn't wreak havoc in the house, but entertaining her all day is so exhausting.  So then the next day I decide to just let her have her way with the house because I can't deal with keeping up with her, but cleaning up the messes she leaves in her wake is so exhausting too.  And it's not just messes that you could overlook if you (like me) were comfortable with a messy house.  It's pushing a stool over to the trash can so she can dig things out of it.  It's finding all of the laundry I've been folding and throwing it all on the floor (why?).  It's pushing a chair into the bathroom, turning on the faucet to fill plastic tubs of water and then dumping said tubs on the floor.  So, you know, stuff I actually do have to face at some point.  I remember that Finn did all of these types of things at this age (Gus not so much), and my solution was to just get him out of the house.  We would go to the zoo, the park, the store, the mall - anywhere that he could just be himself without driving me crazy and we were great.  But now it's not so easy, since I have three children rather than one to lug around, and often being out of the house, while beneficial from the mess point of view, leads to angry outbursts (me) and tears (the boys) because it's just hard to keep everybody in line out in the world.  It makes me hoarse just thinking about it.

Plus, I believe I mentioned the heat.  I mean, I expect this type of thing in Texas, but I feel a little cheated that we're here in the hills of North Carolina and the weatherman is doing the whole "92 degrees, but it will feel like 99" bit.  Buddy, that kind of language is not welcome here.  It is welcome in Texas, because it's so damn hot there that it's a source of pride to folks, so if it's going to be 100 degrees, they'd like to be able to let you know that it actually feels like 110, whatever that means.  But not here, where the air conditioning is not all is could be, you can't get from place to place via underground, air conditioned tunnels.

Anyway, this blog is no fun, so sorry about that.  I will feel better tomorrow, after Gus' birthday party is over.  Inexplicably, I agreed to host it here at the house, just like he wanted.  We normally do Finn's party here in April and I go all out with creative activities and such.  From the couch the following day, I declare that we are never having another child's birthday party at our house, and I make calls around to find a place that will accept birthday bookings for a July party even though it's only April.  Do I feel guilty dialing it in like that for the second child?  Not really.  I mostly feel that I should not have spoiled the first one by going to so much trouble for him.  He is destined to be disappointed by life, whereas Gus will find the world to be a pleasant place, filled with people who do things for him that he didn't expect them to do.  As proof, I give you the fact that Finn cried for over an hour a few nights ago because he was worried that he was not going to get an acting part in the little play they were doing at his camp.  Not that he had already not gotten a part, just the horror of the possibility was enough to lead him to the valley of tears and misery.  He actually said that it was the worst thing that could ever happen to him.  And it hadn't even happened yet.  Nor did it happen, and he came home all smiles the next day.  That's a kid who has yet to taste the bitter pill of true disappointment.

But anyway, I did have a weak moment and agreed to let Gus have his party here, and now I'm remembering why I usually don't do this.  I'm hoping that by October, for Ruby's birthday, I will have recovered, because I will make a huge deal out of her second birthday - her first here with us (further creating a middle-child complex for Gus).  For now though, I must go to bed, because in the morning I have to blow up a million inflatable light sabers, so I should stop writing and save my proverbial breath.