The Summer Paradox

I have a like/detest relationship with summer.

Summer means that it is hot enough for the kids and I to "swim" in the kiddie pool in our yard without Mason shivering so hard he looks like he's epileptic.  That kid has no body fat to speak of, and unless the water had been sitting in the sun all day and is therefore at least 90 degrees, he can only go about 15 minutes before the shivers set in.  The kids do love being in the pool.  Bree is practicing holding her breath and swimming under water.  She's getting pretty good.  But if it's hot enough to swim (read: at least 95 degrees outside), that means it's too hot to do anything else.  I hate being hot. 


Summer means no school, which translates to no crazy high-schoolers driving recklessly down our street (We only live a few blocks from the high school; which reminds me, I bought some cookie dough yesterday from some kids sporting GHS jerseys who are raising money for their football team.  I told them that I have been fund-raiser-scammed before, and gave them the third degree before I handed over my money.  I better see that cookie dough).  Anyway, kids being out of school also means babysitters who are free to watch our kids late on weeknights.  But it means those kids are more likely to crowd up the movie theater on a weeknight.  I don't like crowded movie theaters, and it's not so much the chatting that gets to me.  Usually I'm angry at the parent of a small child in a PG-13 movie, who won't take their scared and crying kid out.  Or I end up sitting next to someone who smells.  Cigarettes, body odor, whatever; I guess there are a lot of smelly people in this town.

Summer means camping, which we love.  We're excited to take the camping trailer and explore some lakes a couple hours north.  We can escape to higher elevation and enjoy cooler weather.  There's nothing paradoxical about this one, we just love it.

Summer means Amy and I are taking a break from teaching our kids preschool, and we're just doing play dates to continue the pattern and keep the kids from going too stir-crazy.  Actually, it might be so Amy and I don't go stir-crazy.  Probably both.  Summer is a great time to do fun outings and activities, right?  We're racking our brains trying to think of what our great city has to offer in the way of summer activities.  We've already covered the temperature issue, so any outdoor activity that doesn't involve swimming or being at a high elevation is out.  So...um, the library?  How many times a week can we do that?  Besides, even though there is a children's room, I don't think the librarians necessarily love it when our kids are running around playing in there, even when we try to control the decibel level.  Besides, the A/C at the library is really sub-par, which makes afternoon visits uncomfortable.  What else do we have in Globe?  Grocery stores.  Wal-mart (and don't even get me started on the sorry state of our Wal-mart; apparently if you're in a small town and you're the only store that carries random things like printer paper and Brita filter refills, you're allowed to have restocking issues coupled with a major remodel that means the baby items are now outside in lawn/garden, and the shoes are in three different places; you know you can get away with it, and take your sweet time fixing things because everyone in that small town has no where else to go).  I think the city has a history museum, but I don't think the kids would appreciate it.  Where is a good parks and rec program when you need it?  The small town: a paradox in itself.

Summer means my tomato plants are thriving, and my baby corn and strawberries are coming up nicely.  I'm looking forward to harvesting squash soon too.  But summer here also means that the tomatoes will not last long unless I rig up some kind of shade for my plants when July rolls around.

Ahh, summer.  I've heard it said that there are places in the world where summer is a glorious season.  What must that be like?