Heat Wave

Forgive me, Readers, for it has been many days since my last post.

How, I ask you, could I stay inside long enough to do ANYTHING in this BRUTAL heat?

It has been HOT here in Santa Monica, no joke. Since Santa Monica is near the ocean, we ordinarily have two days in a whole year that are truly hot and we can usually bear them all right, knowing that they're rare.

However, the temperature here has been insanely high for the last two weeks straight, and the worst part is that hardly anyone on this side of town has air conditioning.

Our apartment, which has high beam ceilings that trap heat, literally has felt like a furnace even at night. Our refrigerator is working as hard as it can to fight the heat, but it is just too hot for it to keep anything cool. All our sodas and water are sweaty and lukewarm, the veggies are moldering in bags, and the milk has to be kept on ice to keep from curdling. Meanwhile, in the freezer, ice cream sandwiches collapse under my fingers like warm butter, and water takes nearly 24 hours to turn into ice.

We have all been marinating in our own sweat for days on end- finding it pointless to shower (you'll be sweating before the water stops running), to put on makeup (it lasts maybe five minutes before you sweat it off), to eat (too much effort, food tastes bad), to live (who wants to live in what literally feels like hellfire?).

Today, for the first time in what feels like forever, the temperature was bearable. It was still humid, but at least overcast and blessedly cool.

I ventured into the yard for the first time in days where I found THE BIGGEST SPIDER I'VE EVER SEEN:















and the BIGGEST PRAYING MANTIS I'VE EVER SEEN:

Owen

Top 10 Reasons Baby #3 Is The Easiest

1. Letting them cry it out is less a theory, and more a daily practice.
2. You no longer fear strangers and their germs… it’s more like “Hi, how are you? Okay, now that we’re not strangers, will you watch my baby while I take my older kids to the restroom?”
3. “I have to hold the baby” is no longer an excuse for putting your life on hold. Now you cook, clean, put on makeup, and discipline your other children all while holding the baby whereas before it seemed so difficult just to check your email with your arms full.
4. Fighting with your spouse about diaper changes is such a thing of the past. Number one: Newborn poop smells downright GOOD now that you know what’s coming when they start ingesting solids. Number two: If you’re the parent that stays home, you’re going to end up changing way more of them anyway, so you’ve stopped counting and being bitter. Number three: It’s just poop. You’re so over it.
5. You don’t have to figure out how to use a rectal thermometer because you don’t bother taking baby’s temperature anymore. If he feels hot, he’s probably got a fever. If not, you’re good.
6. No more “nesting” period. They like to tell new moms to keep the baby out of public places for two months. TWO MONTHS???? ARE YOU KIDDING? You’re back at the park picking up germs before your episiotomy stops smarting.
7. Your older kids suddenly seem easier. When you were pregnant, taking the older ones out was a hassle. Now you’re just grateful they don’t require diapers, pacifiers, and the possibility of whipping your boobs out in public.
8. Unlike with baby #2, you’re not concerned about how your other kids are “adjusting.” You don’t cut them any slack based on the trauma of having a new sibling. They can either get with the program, or cool their heels in time-out.
9. You’re not pregnant anymore! Hurray! And based on national averages of families having 2-3 children, most likely you will never be again! Whoooopeee!
10. Because #3 is most likely your final child, you tend to enjoy the baby stage a little more. Rather than being resentful of their claims on your time, you just enjoy nursing, holding, and even comforting them when they cry because you know it’s the last time.

Scenes From Sarah's

Owen and Stewart have been playing together so much more ever since the baby was born. I suppose they have to because I have so much less time to amuse them. This has lead to the invention of all kinds of interesting new games.

Several times a day, they gather their "friends" on my bed (a cadre of stuffed dogs) and drive them to the beach where they feed them cotton candy, Skittles and Baby Bottle Pops, and issue plenty of time-outs. It's hilarious to hear Stewart tell his dog to sit there for "three minutes," and then to ask it "why you in time-out?"

Another new one is the "GRRRR" game, which initially had Kyle and I stumped. We'd be taking care of the baby, or preparing dinner, and hear the boys plotting to go "wake the GRRRR." We just looked at each other in confusion, thinking "GRRR" was some imaginary monster. Well, just today I discovered that the "GRRRRRR" game involves badgering our dog Krycek in some way until he growls at them- hence the "grrrrr." So now we've put a stop to that one.

The boys have also discovered several new ways of torturing each other when they are bored. Owen likes to tell Stewart that he is either a girl or a robot, which gets Stewart all worked up to the point where he has to appeal to me pathetically: "Mommy...I'm not a girl. I'm a boy!" or "Mommy, I'm not a robot, I'm Stewie!"

Stewart gets Owen back by taking special treasures from Owen's bed and waving them under his nose chanting "THIS IS NOT YOURS, THIS IS MINE!" and then running away giggling.

Other games are more along the lines of generalized mischief.

Today, I came into the living room after changing the baby's diaper to find two very guilty faces and blocks strewn all over the floor. "I wasn't throwing any blocks!" declared Owen, as if I'd asked. Talk about your guilty conscience. Stewart, who is nothing if not totally honest, giggled and said, "We're throwing blocks!"

Aye. Well, at least they're finding ways to pass the time!

Problem of the Week

Okay, so today's Problem of the Week is about how to raise kids in our disposable culture.

I swear, my kids have no respect for the uniqueness of life- they are so used to disposing of things when they break and getting "a fresh one."

Kyle doesn't help it along any. Any time one of the boys ruins their toys and is upset, Kyle just tells them we'll go get a new one. It's his idea of a quick fix to make them feel better and stop crying.

I, who am more accustomed to the crying and therefore more immune to it, tell them that we can't just get another one and that they need to respect and care for the things that they already have, a lesson that has hardly sunk in when Dad always buys them a "fresh one. "

Even when Shelly (our favorite nesting dove who reared several sets of chicks outside of Marylou's front door) bit the dust and the boys were sad and asking important questions about death, Kyle took the opportunity of teaching them this valuable lesson: "Maybe a new Shelly will fly up and sit on the nest and make more babies!" Essentially, he was telling them that we'd just get a new one!

It didn't help matters any when DeLilah showed up. Yes, another mourning dove mated with Sheldon (who should have been MOURNING (hello, he's a MOURNING DOVE) his wife, not yet cold in her grave) and SAT ON THE NEST AND LAID MORE EGGS. Dammit all! Somehow they DID get a fresh one!

This is all bad enough on its own, but this morning, Owen confirmed that his lack of respect for life is truly a problem when he said he wanted to get a puppy instead of our dog, Krycek. The actual quote from his mouth was: "When Krycek gets dead, we will get a fresh one." I kid you not.

Problem.