Seasonal Psychosis in BlackHart's World....

As a kid, nothing beat Summer vacation. Until I was out of school and working full-time, I equated Summer to lazy afternoons on sunny beaches, the smell of suntan lotion, chlorine and hamburgers on a hot grill. Now that I have children, my perception of Summer has changed...drastically.

In our neck of the woods, the temperature averages about 100 degrees in July. Often, it rises even higher than that. Unless you happen to be part cactus (or lizard) it is unwise to engage in any outdoor play between the hours of ten a.m. and five p.m....heat stroke is a bitch. Every swimming pool within a fifty mile radius has turned to bathwater, you might as well practice your backstroke in a hot tub. My kids get cabin fever.

At first, the novelty of Summer keeps us happy and relaxed (within the confines of our air-conditioned abode) but boredom sets in pretty quickly. Sophie and I signed up for golf lessons. We made it through five of them. Chipping and putting ceases to be fun under the blazing sun. We'd end our lessons dehydrated and sunburned, sitting in the golf course's restaurant guzzling bottled water at $3 a pop. I cancelled the 6th lesson for fear one of us was going to drop dead before the ninth hole. I also suspected that Child Protective Services would consider golfing in triple digit heat 'child abuse'.

The upshot of the hot weather combined with Summer vacation is that I no longer get nostalgic over the smell of coconut oil and the sound of crashing waves. I'm too busy associating Summer with "I'm booo-ooored." and "I'm hungryyyyy." while chasing the girls with a Costco -sized can of spray-on sunblock and breaking up arguments over who touched/breathed/looked at whom. I am sick to death of the tattling: "Mo-om! Allie snuck a cookie!" and "Mom, Sophie won't play with me!" I am slowly losing my grip on sanity. I finally decided to send them upstairs to play in their rooms. This was a major mistake and a huge contributor to the Summer Psychosis I am now suffering from. Apparently, children with cabin fever morph into tropical storms during Summer vacation....don't believe me? Take a look at this:






This is what happened after Hurricane Allie blew through. She assured me that when she was done playing she had cleaned her room. I was afraid to ask what it looked like before she 'cleaned'. Not to be outdone by her sister, Tropical Storm Sophie blew through. I'd say this was about a Category Five. You be the judge:


Evidently, I'm suffering from hallucinations because when I announced there would be no swimming at Grandma's house until they had straightened their rooms, they were shocked that I could not see the blood, sweat and tears that had been shed in their herculean efforts to restore order. FEMA kept wanting to install a trailer in our backyard for temporary housing purposes until Kevin went upstairs with a trash bag and announced that everything still on the floor when the sun went down would be given to the garbage man. (Allie was horrified. Sophie pointed out that he needed two bags because Allie had some plastic toys that should go in the recycling container so they didn't wind up in a landfill...smartazz.)

I'd like to say that the girls dove in and restored order. I'd like to say that their garbage-bag-wielding father made an impact. I would definitely be suffering from psychosis if I did. Instead, Sophie threw everything in her closet and Allie hid behind the sofa in the playroom with her Barbies while I cleaned her room. The fact of the matter is we have three more weeks of Summer Vacation and the thought of two little girls stuck in the house without their toys, without being sent to Grandma's swimming pool occasionally wouldn't just be a punishment for them. It would be the equivalent of water-boarding for me.....slow torture.

There is a light at the end of this tunnel. It is circled in red on my calendar. I only hope I haven't degenerated into a drooling idiot by then.