Tuesday, August 12, 2014

My Bummer Summer and Why the Hoosiers are to Blame

School starts for the Midget tomorrow.   At 8:05 tomorrow morning my darling Midget will become a big ole’ toothless 1st grader.  Unlike last year, this year I am only moderately traumatized.  I’m over that whole hump of losing my baby to the world of elementary gang bangers and resigned to life with an almost toddler.  I’ll miss my little sidekick but not gonna lie, it will be nice to catch up on profanity filled Netflix offerings during naptime once again.  I’m over keeping it clean.

 As far as summer-break adventures, The Midget, The Nugget and I have had some fab ones: from hiking every nature preserve we could find to various picnics in sculpture gardens, from Colts training camp to Lego camp and a million things in between.  We even let the Turk join us for a few weekend adventures and while festive times were had by all, our excursions were marred by one thing- they were in Indiana and from what I’ve ascertained thus far, Hoosier summers are total bummers.  After two and ¼ summers in the land of the happy Hoosiers, I have drawn the conclusion that Indiana just can't do summer.  Sure, they might blame the Polar Vortex this year but personally, I blame the Hoosiers.

The Hoosiers’ obvious summer impairment is its utter lack of water.  No sea.  No ocean.  No lakes.  Ok, they do have partial custody of that tiny corner of Lake Michigan but that totally doesn’t count because it’s so small.  When you’ve spent a few summers on the beaches of the Aegean Sea and down the Jersey Shore going landlocked is rough.  I can’t totally blame geography on the Hoosiers, but they do take an odd pride in it.

Then there is all the car racing.  Maybe that’s a plus if you like a world bursting with testosterone filled cars
driving in circles, but not this broad.

But the biggest issue is the weather- it sucks.  It sucks and it’s schizophrenic.  It might be hot in the morning and snowing by dinner.  Or the sun is shining and three seconds later the tornado sirens are blowing.  And don’t even think about checking the forecast, they are chronically inaccurate verging on daily dead wrong.

We moved here during mid-August two years ago and it was so hot you could not even step outside without sweat pooling in your butt crack.  Our lawn was a permanent shade of brown and don’t even get me going on the humidity. Last summer was a blur as I was a pregnant whale up until the end of July so even if it was 32 and snowing I would have considered it sweltering.  After I popped out the Nugget, it went immediately from sweltering to sweater weather then back to buttcrack-sweat-hot again every other day until mid-September.  But this summer has been the worst.  We’ve had about 5 good pool days and none of them within the same week.  Our average temperature has been around 79 all summer long and today, mid freakin’ August, I am wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt as I watch the thermometer struggle through the 60’s?  What the hell is that?

Why complain about perfectly acceptable weather you ask?  Because with fair weather comes high expectations and as far as I’m concerned, summer is supposed to be a time of very, very low expectations.  Like sitting on one’s ass and sipping cool beverages under the guise of avoiding heat stroke for three glorious months.  For those of us who need an excuse to be lazy without guilt, the Earth gave us summer.  

“Mom, can we go to the playground?” – “No dear.  It’s too hot.  You’ll burn your ass on the slide and we will die of heat stroke.”

“Mom, will you kick the soccer ball around with me?”  - “No dear.  It’s too hot.  We will die of heat stroke.  Best if we just have another ice pop and check in on Sponge Bob for a few more hours.”

“Mom, can we go for a picnic?” –“Afraid not dear.  The grass is so dry they closed the parks.  The grass has heat stroke.”

“Honey, are we having watermelon for dinner again?”  -“Yes Darling.  It was just too hot to fire up the oven.  We might all get heat stroke.”

Trip to the amusement park? – Nope.  Heat stroke looms.

Walk through the neighborhood?  Mid-afternoon hike? Exercise out doors?  No, no and no.  Those activities must wait until long after the heat of summer is gone.

Unless of course you live in Indiana and the heat of summer didn’t even bother to show up.  Thanks to the Hoosier Vortex, instead of sitting on my sweating ass, sipping a beverage and avoiding all active parenting, I have spent my entire summer hiking with a Nugget tied to me, jogging countless miles behind a Midget on a bike and cooking full, hot meals every damn night.  In short, busting my ass without a single day of heat induced laziness.  Not cool Mother Nature.  Not cool.


So sure, it’s been calm and gorgeous.  I’ve saved hundreds on my air conditioning bills.  And yes, it’s been nice to spend a summer without my thighs chafing and without sweating through a couple pair of Hanes Her Ways in a day.  But I’m an old mom with young kids and I was really banking on a break from all the trips to the playground and all the fun and festive outdoor adventures.  Not this year.  Not in Indiana.  Perhaps it’s all global warming coming to bite us in the ass.  Perhaps it’s the beginnings of the next Ice Age.  Or perhaps it really is connected to the Polar Vortex or her ugly cousin El Nino.  I’m not a meteorologist so I can’t say, but even if I were, I’d still blame the Hoosiers.  Somehow, I know my bummer summer is all their fault.  Damn Hoosiers.

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