Summer: The Dope-Smoking, Half-Naked, Laze-About

Let's pretend that my disdain for summer has nothing to do with traumatic childhood memories; children home all day, unstructured; the dog shedding a smaller dog; and swim suits.

Let's just talk about the weather:  It's hot. I don't like to be hot. Why do people like to be hot? There's a reason why our core body temperatures are not a default 42ºC. I'm not a doctor or anything but I think it has something to do with... organ failure?

I shouldn't be whining because this has been the coolest July I can remember in 29 years. But today was a bit too warm. It was threatening to become hot and I just won't stand for that kind of behaviour. If you want me to be productive with cooking and smiling and moving my person through space, I need a cool breeze on a warm day. Today wasn't that. 

Every day I tentatively fall out of bed, looking over my shoulder, wondering if it's going to get hot and muggy.  The plan is to become as immobile and depressed as possible, should Mr. Hot and Muggy drop by. Mr. Hot and Muggy should not be confused with Mr. Hawt and Huggy. Mr. H&M is all sweaty and slimy, and he spends all day in his parents' basement smoking dope, because school is out.

Mr. Hawt and Huggy would be September. Oh, he fills out a turtleneck sweater nicely. He stops by in the evening to tell me I look all cute fully clothed and he bears rich soups he made from his garden harvest and asks to watch the new Grey's Anatomy episode with me. We open the windows and enjoy a cool breeze. We listen to jazz and dream up new ideas for taking over the planet. September inspires me. He knows my soul. He doesn't need to ask, "Want me to turn the fireplace on and read you some poetry, Baby?" He knows just what I like and delivers every time. Who else would bring me bouquets of fallen, coloured leaves? My boyfriend September-- he's dreamy, he's comfortable... he's fleeting. So, when the Labour Day weekend comes and goes, I usher the little ones off to school, send my husband to work, and it's me alone, with my boyfriend September. We don't have much time together and we need to make the most of it.

You may like Summer in all its half-naked, in-your-face, sweaty sensuality.  I was made for Fall:  woolen, with an occasional toque, restrained and romantic.

That affair with September every year-- it gives me energy and keeps me happy until... at least the end of November.  I am counting down the days.... (Does my hair look okay? What shoes should I wear?)

This is an original Canada Moms Blog post. Natasha writes at Becoming Something and can also be found on Twitter. Photo taken from Flickr with permission from Louise Burton of Burton Studios.