It is here. The period in my
year that I enjoy the least. Summer has arrived. For you that love having their
children home all the time, do not read the rest of this post. It is not
intended for you. Your life is perfect and so are you. I am so jealous. For the
rest of the population, I hope you enjoy.
Ahh, my least favorite time of
year. It encompasses what I consider to be Dante’s 7th level of
Hell. The heat, the children, the obligation of spending your days off from
work providing unhappy children with expensive activities are looming. From my
perspective, I have considered confessing to being the 2nd gunman on
the grassy knoll just to keep from participating. It’s really that bad at my
house.
I live in a tiny house that encompasses a vast
array of carbon based individuals. When I am home, it brings the count to 2
adults, 4 children, and 2 dogs. That is a lot of different personalities to try
and regulate activities around. Some are very hard to please, and I have one
who is not.
My husband bears the full
brunt of the torture as I get to escape to work most days. I really don’t
understand why I don’t try to pre medicate my poor husband before it happens, I
find myself trying to hide the school calendar from him as the end of the
school year closes. It’s not as if he won’t eventually realize what is about to
happen, but perhaps it would lessen the blow. We have a suicide pact just in
case one of us dies so the other will not have to bear such a burden alone.
Surely the state will place most of them together.
Summer brings out shorts and
swimsuits, tank tops and tans. I don’t participate in any of that shit. I’m
pale, fat, and I sweat a lot. No part of this is synonymous with having fun in
my opinion. Heat brings sweat, and in a fat girl this means a rash. Add that to
being pale and sweaty, and you are not a popular person.
Thus begins my own private
Hell. Where you carefully pull out last year’s garments and hope that you haven’t
gotten any fatter since you wore them last. If you are like me, you only have
about 3 outfits that you feel like aren’t completely horrible. The problem is
that 2 of the 3 are more formal. When I say formal I don’t mean like for prom
or anything, perhaps for a wedding or a funeral and NOT Dollar General Market.
Unfortunately I go to the DG Market much more than I go to weddings or funerals
so it seems as if I only wear one outfit.
I hate the water. I do not
like to wear less amounts of clothes. The sun is my enemy. The children
constantly fight. I hope my clothes fit. This is too much for me to bear, my
face is broken out like a 13 year old boys! Why must it come each year! Why?
Without fail, this too shall
pass and I will coax my husband off the roof for one more season. I think of
better times to get me through the incessant fights over cartoons, action
figures, the average rainfall in the amazon, or whatever they come up with. I
know that I am not alone in the chaos. I am simply one who will admit it out
loud.
The perfect people of the world know nothing
of the plight of counting change to get kids into the pool or making them eat
at home before we go somewhere. They cannot fathom the distress that I feel
when someone mentions going on a trip or having to display my pasty white
thighs at a cook out or picnic.
My friend’s daughter Piper
said it all when she told us, “These shorts are tighter than Hell!” Yes Piper,
they are.
