We've had temperatures in the high 90s for the last couple of days. In my region
of Northern California, we rarely get this hot. Maybe a few weeks each summer.
We don't have air conditioning, I know, boo hoo, no humidity, cry y'all a river.
I'm a big baby. I like my weather mild. We were sweltering, feeling lethargic
and eating popsicles for lunch when my oldest came up with the perfect solution.
Let's go swimming! This is a fabulous plan. We live in a homeowner's
association, where our dues pay for a neighborhood pool. Let's throw on our
suits and go! The whole family is crashed out in the living room. I was sprawled
on the couch with a kid laying in front of me and a kid in my "chicken nest."
"Chicken Nest" refers to the space between your ankles and your butt when you
are laying on your side with your knees bent. I don't know. Go, on, lay down on
your side and try it now, you know you want to. Bend your knees, and notice that
there is just enough room for a kid to sit wedged in there. Mine prefer to rest
their heads on my butt. There you have it. The definition of "Chicken Nest."
Probably there was a cute story associated with that, but I don't remember.
Moving along. My husband was lounging on the floor, and when I glanced over at
my son, he was sound asleep with his popsicle pressed against his cheek. We
decided to let him nap. (We did remove the popsicle and place him on his bed.)
We passed a few more hours enduring the heat and engaging in unbelievable sloth.
Finally, it was time to swim. We changed into our swim suits, grabbed towels and
headed out for the pool. The pool is, no joke, a 5 minute walk, but we are such
pathetic shrinking daisies that we took the van. The pool was crowded with
families. We dumped our stuff and got into the water quickly. My oldest is
getting to be quite proficient in the water. She swam underwater, and leaped
from the side. At one point, she threw her arms around my neck and said, "Mommy,
wanna see me be a mermaid?" I smiled at her. "Sure, honey." "Okay, I'll be the
bee-you-tee-ful mermaid, and you can be the Ugly Sea Witch and chase me." She
said "ugly sea witch" in a gravelly voice with a snarl on her face and two claws
raised menacingly at my face. Yeah, great. Ugly sea witch. Not Queen of the
Mermaids. Not Sea Temptress. Nope. Ugly Sea Witch for me. Yo ho freakin' ho.
Pass the rum. This reminds me: the Disney catalog had all their Halloween
costumes in the last issue. What is up with the mom costumes? The mom costumes
are all evil. See? I'm not kidding. All the mommy costumes are supposed to be
the scary counterparts to their children's costumes. Unless you want to be a cow
or a teapot, which is still frightening, in my esteemed opinion. The daddy
costumes were equally lame. Would any man willingly dress like Eeyore? It just
seems so unfair.