...but it feels like 109.
We have a few great ways to beat the heat, like the pool.
But when it's too hot even for the pool, how about doubling up the fans and bunkering in for the day?
We played outside as early as we could, although even by 10 it was too hot for the swings. Do you know how hot it has to be for it to be too hot for Lucy to swing? I think she feels the heat more than any of us - she'll sweat whenever it breaks 80.
And we did a bit of preschool inside, rotated toys and books, and worked on birthday cards for Kevin. The heat made for tricky attitudes, mostly from the teething baby who's suddenly into everysinglething on earth. His favorite place in the world probably is the toilet. The children take their "protect Thomas from the dirty stuff" roles serious, which means many slammed doors and removed babies and tears and tears.*
I stuffed the kids as full as I could with good food during the morning and afternoon, because I could see the evening coming and it didn't look pretty. Our house stays decently cool but can take only so much sunshine before it starts heating up.
Just when entering the kitchen to make dinner seemed like cruel and unusual punishment (even though dinner would be only salads, not exactly "slaving over a hot stove" work), Kevin green-lighted a pizza.
So, I give you the latest installment in Such A Classy Family. I call it: Heat Wave Pizza Picnic, With Naked Baby.
*One of the hardest parts of parenting these days is the fact that 95 percent of what Peter and Lucy do is - in their minds - helpful and with a purpose. There's not much willful destruction and random chaos as there was in the past. It's great, but there's a key distinction here: it's what's helpful in their minds. The reality is, while yes, it is helpful to move your brother away from the toilet, no, it's not so helpful if you're doing it by grabbing his head by the neck and dragging him.
So with everything else parenting-related, our peaceful days require me to be paying so much attention: to what they're saying, to what they're doing, to who they are and what they need and want. And, so much patience.
It's the patience which I think pays off the most, especially when my patience is in short supply. I want to preserve their helpful spirit, and I have to imagine a constant stream of "oh, Lucy!" and "Peter, please don't" would only demoralize them. Even when my "oh, Lucy!" comes after watching her dump half a bottle of sunscreen into her hands (after running inside because she realized she forgot to put it on), and my "Peter, please don't" comes after he leaves a juicy half-eaten peach half-buried in a pile of crayons and art projects, for Lucy, because "she doesn't get to have many juicy peaches and she really likes them."
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