The summer that wouldn't DIE!

It's official.  This is the worst summer since I've been living here (December 1999.)  It's probably the worst summer on record.  I can blame global warming, I can blame the expansion of concrete and blacktop to cover the entire center of the state, but it doesn't really matter when it comes down to it.  What matters is that it was 97 degrees yesterday in Mesa, Arizona.  Yes, you read that right.  Nearly triple digits in November.  We're running our air conditioner right now, and it's almost 8 pm.  What sun god or goddess did I displease...or please too much?  Or is it the gods and goddesses of the cold that I've neglected to worship?  That must be it.  I'll erect my altar to the northern gods tomorrow.

But that doesn't sound right.  The Norse worshipped their gods, trying to appease them into giving them a mild winter.  I want an ice storm in Phoenix that extends to August.  Okay, I'll never get anywhere near that, but a pleasant November where the temperature never rises above 78 would be nice.  Sigh.

It's supposed to cool down by the weekend.  Still, my son is having a hard time understanding why we had the door open to let in the fresh air for a week, and now it's closed all the time again.  I miss it too, son.  I miss it, too.

Making enemies on the playground

I haven't blogged in forever, and I think I probably should have. This summer has been the worst of my life and it might have helped me to blog about it and get these feelings and depression out instead of staying at home and crying or moping about it. I have never felt so assaulted by the heat before. It was awful, and it's not over yet. The high for today is 99. It's late September, for fuck's sake! The weather forecasters say that it'll cool down a little before heating back up, and on average the highs are in the 90's until mid October. It's enough to make a cool-weather lover like me crawl under the bed and hide until Samhain.

I've been so preoccupied about the heat that I completely forgot about Mabon until it was here. So, happy Mabon everyone! I hope that the seeds of projects you planted earlier in the year are coming to fruition and that you're reaping what you've sown. I know I am. I neglected my garden and all the plants in my yard once the real heat hit, and now they're all dead. It was just too depressing to go outside. More than 5 minutes in the heat effected me profoundly throughout the day, causing me to be depressed, moody, easily irritated and I think it sucked out all my energy, too. So, it was easier to just let the lawn and plants die than make my family suffer through a summer of me at my worst everyday.

So, on to the topic of my blog: the indoor playground. The only way I've been able to survive this summer with an energetic two year old has been to unleash him at Chandler mall's playground at least twice a week (five days a week at times) to run, jump, play and be social while mommy sits on the sidelines sipping an iced tall decaf mocha with whole milk, light ice and an extra pump of Mocha syrup. Yes, I'm picky.

Anyway, the mall playground rules are simple. Parents can't drop their kids off and leave them there while they shop. They have to be supervised. Kids taller than 42 inches (the height of the surrounding wall) are not allowed to play there unless they're helping a smaller child or an infant on the equipment. No food or drinks in the play area (I take this to mean that the kids can eat or drink at the benches against the wall, but not on the playground equipment or in the play area.) Those are pretty simple rules, right? I thought so. I guess some moms think otherwise. I've become the bitch of the playground. I call security constantly to kick out kids who are too big or too rough. I talk to parents about their rowdy, bratty kids who are pushing, shoving, hitting or kicking. I even follow my son around the play area when it's really full to make sure he's not getting picked on. Last week, I watched a little boy about the same age as my son hitting other kids in the face as he ran by. He pushed another kid off the slide and down the stairs. I took him to his mom, who didn't speak English. She quietly told him not to hit (I understand at least that much Spanish) and he turned away from her, hitting another kid in the face as he ran off. Yeah, I had security kick them out.

The worst experience I've ever had on the playground was today, though. Let me preface this by saying that I've met this mom before. She and I had a long, happy conversation about two weeks ago. She said this little girl was her 4th child, and by far her most difficult. The mom was very nice, and I assumed that the little girl who looked like her and was playing near her was hers. I couldn't understand how this sweet little girl could be a problem. She didn't seem to be the selfish, demanding, pushy child that the mom was talking about. Then, when they got up to leave, I saw where I went wrong. That wasn't her child. The brat, pushing kids off the slide and hitting while hogging all the best playground equipment was hers. She hadn't been paying attention to her at all. The entire time we were there she hadn't gotten up to intervene when her kid (who she seemed to understand was a brat) picked on another child. I was appalled. To make it worse, I saw this mom a few more times since then. She and her horrible daughter are becoming more frequent attendees of the play area.

Anyway, another interesting facet of this story is that my son loves little girls. He will go out of his way to seek out a little girl to play with on the playground. He does this every time we go. I asked my pediatrician about it, and she suggested that it's because he's small for his age, and very verbal. If he wants to talk and not get pushed around, he's better off playing with a little girl than a little boy. Fair enough.

So, today I took my son to the playground early, along with another little boy I was babysitting. They played together on the deserted playground for almost half an hour before any other kids showed up. My son even pointed around saying, "No kids?" when we first got there. I felt bad for him, but the other kids started showing up soon after. After about 45 minutes, there were 5 other kids. Two were little babies, two were rambunctious boys, and then there was the bratty little girl. Her mom parked herself in the corner and sat texting and ignored her daughter. Meanwhile, my son beelined it for the only little girl on the playground, and was promptly pushed over. He persisted, and she shoved him a couple more times. Then, she sat at the top of the slide and prevented anyone from going on it. I had had it by this point. I had tried to gently tell her to stop pushing and shoving and let other kids on the slide. So, I got up in her face and whispered menacingly through my teeth, "Move. Now."

She moved. She ran crying to mommy. I told her mom that she was upset because I wouldn't let her stand at the top of the slide and prevent anyone else from going down. I didn't really feel the need to elaborate... Anyway, the next hour was really uncomfortable. That mom shadowed her daughter on the playground (paying more attention to her daughter and her daughter's actions than I'd ever seen before) and shooting me dirty looks every time we passed each other. Sigh.

It's like I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. I refuse to let my son be bullied on the playground, and I won't let this mom allow her daughter to be the playground brat. Maybe I actually helped her, in a way. Maybe now this mom will pay more attention to her daughter and curb her bad behavior, at least while I'm there. I can hope.

In the meantime, I might have to go to a different indoor playground. I do feel bad for scaring the crap out of a three year old, and for making my criticisms of her mother's parenting so obvious. At least it's cooling down and I can use a real playground soon.

Heat Depression

It's that time again.  Not time for summer fun, but time for my summer-related depression.  It happens every year, and it started when I moved to Arizona.  As soon as the temperatures rise in May, I start to get moody, more easily agitated, and depressed.  It feels like the sun is keeping me hostage.  I am caged in the house, even though I think of myself as an outdoorsy person, and it feels like it will be forever until the weather is acceptable again.  The heat is downright oppressive here, ask anyone who has spent a summer day in the "Valley of the Sun."  When opening you front door feel like opening an oven, and people can be seen handling their black steering wheels with oven mitts, you know it's bad.  Personally, I sometimes sleep with my feet on a cold pack and I put away my thick blanket for the summer in favor of a thin cover that is scarcely more than two bedsheets sown together.  Anything else heating my body will cause me to get up in the middle of the night and dowse myself with cold water.  In fact, when I first moved here, I used to take an ice-cold shower with my pajamas on in the middle of the night to cool down.  That way, the cold water stayed on my skin longer.  As it is, I can't go to bed without slathering my arms, legs and feet with lotion to maximize the ceiling fan's cooling effect.  Sigh.

This problem really isn't something I can explain to anyone who has ever felt this way.  My husband is no exception.  As much as I love him, his "suck it up and deal with it" attitude isn't helping and may be making it worse.  He thinks it's all in my head and that thinking more positively about my life in general will make these feelings go away.  I wish it was that simple.  I really do.  But the truth remains.  I hate living here.  I hate that the landscape is brown, not green.  I hate that 6 months out of the year are summer (and hot, nasty summer at that!)  I hate that the only family I have that lives here can't wait to leave either, and that my family in California rarely visits because of how much it sucks out here.  I hate that my house doesn't have a large shade tree in the front or backyard.  I hate that I can't grow a lot of the fruits I love out here because the heat will kill them.  I hate that there is a real danger of my kids becoming couch potatoes out here because I wouldn't blame them for not wanting to get off the couch in the summer  I don't either.  I hate that it's too warm to bike or walk, even in the evenings.  I hate that I can't open the windows to let in a tiny bit of fresh air because AC is so expensive.  And most of all, I hate that no one else wants to be here, either.  Anyone with the funds to do so either leaves for the summer or leaves permanently.  Who can blame them?  I'd do the same if I could.  It's nobody's fault, and I wouldn't want anyone to stay here just for me, but it does add to the effect.  Summer here sucks because I'm stranded here, and many of my friends are gone.  I have a husband with a wonderful job he loves in a good company.  We own a house and have a child.  I can't go anytime soon.  My hubby would have to have at least 5 years of experience in his job to make a move feasible.  I'll be three years in July.  

I do feel better at having written all my thoughts down.  I will make a genuine effort to make the next post a more positive one.  Maybe I'll write my next post after taking a cold shower.  Just a thought.