#Heatwave

It’s bastard hot.

And also that time of year when I realise I should have bought a fan after the last time it got bastard hot and I didn’t get around to buying a fan.

And it’s all very lovely, all the barbeques and paddling pools and balmy evenings and all that jazz, but there are a few things that get right on my tits when the weather gets like this.

And I don’t just mean boob sweat.

Now, I know it’s a rather predictably British of me to do so, but whilst it’s so bastard hot I’m afraid I do find myself moaning rather alot about the fact that it’s… well… so bastard hot.

 

Too Hot To Handle?

I’m not a total misery guts. I do actually like this time of year. I love hanging out in the garden during the Summer months, I really do! It’s just that there are a few odd things which catch me out and put the dampeners on my enjoyment this time of year.

And when I say a few, I really mean a plethora. Since becoming a Mum my list has multiplied substantially. So much so, in fact, that I have created my very own A-Z of errors to cover my biggest hot weather gripes.

 

The A-Z of Summertime errors (which catch me out every time)

A is for: Arses (bare)

It’s boiling hot, you’re out in the garden with the sprogs, the paddling pool is filled and the factor 50 has been slathered. No point keeping a nappy on your toddler really is there? It’s not the end of the world if she has a bit of a wee on the patio…

No. No, it’s not. But when she emerges from the wendy-house with suspiciously brown toes, I’ll immediately rue this moment of frivolous recklessness.

At this point I must gird my loins, hold my breath, and grab the hose, spraying down the entire area (child included), whilst praying that I avoid any poopy pebbledash on my bare legs during the process.

B is for: Boob sweat

Ugh. Why is this even a thing? I must remember to spray a bit of deoderant on my under-bap region in the mornings on those extra roasty days.

C is for: Chloasma

Chloasma, or ‘the mask of pregnancy’, is a skin condition triggered by pregnancy hormones which leads to hyperpigmentation when exposed to sunlight. Sometimes it goes away after you’ve had the baby, but for lucky old me, after #3 came along, the chloasma stuck around.

The upshot of this is that every summer I break out in weird brown blotches on my face which make me look a bit like a chimney sweep street urchin extra from ‘Oliver’.

At this point I remember the bastard chloasma thing and resolve to wear a big floppy hat. Sadly, once exposed, my skin remains a sort of mottled beige until the end of Summer.

D is for: Dog drool on bare legs

Even if I wanted to elaborate on this one I couldn’t. I just did a bit of sick in my mouth thinking about it.

E is for: Early risers

On those warm Summer evenings, after a long day of playing in the padding pool, not eating barbequed sausages because of the ‘black bits’, and redecorating the patio with chalk drawings of bums and willies (their latest trend, guaranteed to send them into fits of hysterical laughter for hours on end), the children are knackered and don’t put up too much of a fight when it comes to bedtime.

Then, as I leave the room after all the good nights and requests for cheesestrings (denied) and more stories (negotiated) I opt to throw open their windows with wild abandon, in an attempt to keep their rooms cool.

Error.

I have found that the effects of blackout blinds and gro-clocks are often utterly undermined by

a.) Gusts of wind blowing the blinds open and flashing the blisteringly early dawn light into their sleeping faces

b.) The dawn sodding chorus.

And

c.) The wafting smell of bin juice and incongruously chirpy chatter of the bin men coming to noisily empty my rubbish at 6 o’clock in the bastard morning..

F is for: Fan – lack of

Every. Bastard. Year.

G is for: Garden furniture malfunctions

We really need some new garden furniture. We have done for years. And yet I can’t quite bring myself to part with the cash needed to stump up for it when we only ever use it for a few months of the year.

I only ever see the holes in my argument against such expenditure when we are outside all the time, and I am besieged by distraught children with splintery bums and scraped knees from tumbling off rickety chairs.

H is for: Hot (in bed)

And not in a saucy, fun, way.

It’s just too bastard hot in bed.

See F. And possibly B.

I is for: Ice Cream

I love a good ice cream, me. However I do not like the inevitable finger-shaped sticky patches that consequently appear on every conceivable surface of my house as a result.

J is for: Jealousy

“Muuuuum! He stole my bucket!”

“Muuuuuuuuum! Her ice lolly is less melty than mine!”

“Muuuuuuuuuuuum! It’s MY Turn to turn the hose on!”

And so on and so on, ad infinitum until I want to tear my own ears off in protest.

K is for: Knackered

See H, and then E.

L is for: Legs (shaving of)

I’m way too lazy busy for this shit, but I’m also way too hirsute to bare them. And waaaaay too hot to cover them up, so it must be done.

M is for: Maxi-dress (search for the perfect)

Every year I realise that what I really need is a decent maxi-dress to keep me cool and hide all my squidgy bits. Every year I go online to search for the perfect garment. Every year I fail to find it, and instead accumulate a variety of shapeless items which only serve to make me look dumpier than the one I bought the year before.

If anyone knows where these unicorn-like specimens can be bought IRL, please point me in their direction, because I am starting to doubt their existence.

N is for: Nagging

This is an all year round proclivity, only slightly more favourable than banging my head against a brick wall. The problem is that during a heatwave we are either outside or inside with every window wide open, where my neighbours can hear every decibel of my loudest Mum-roar with spectacular clarity.

If you live on my street, please do not call Childline. Feel free to come over and check my kids are ok if you’re worried, as long as you bring wine.

O is for: Overtired, overheated and oversugared (kids)

Oh dear God what has happened to my children and why have they metamorphosed into a screeching tribe of miniature velociraptors?

P is for: Paddling pool

Getting the paddling pool out on a hot day seems like a great idea. However, assuming that I even manage to get it out, hose it off and fill it without discovering a puncture, I then realise two things.

Firstly, my kids will steadfastly refuse to get in for about 4 hours because the water is too cold.

Secondly, within minutes of finally getting in, the water develops a greasy sunscreeny film, and begins to accumulate earth, twigs and insects at a surprising rate.

Thus, after one day’s use I’m faced with the choice between emptying out the lot, only to repeat the same process the next day, or let it sit for my kids to wallow in stagnant filth the next day.

Q is for: Quiet – (lack of peace and)

This is the only time of year where I can find no respite from the pandemonium by asking my kids to ‘use their inside voices’.

R is for: (Ratty kids)

See O.

S is for: Soggy nappies

In an effort for prevent another wendy-house poop incident I resolve to keep the nappy on the toddler. Except she will still want to play in the water, obvs. Then she will ‘surprise’ me by waddling over and sitting down heavily on my midsection whilst I’m sunbathing with her sodden and explosive ice-cold soggy nappy.

T is for: Tan (fake)

My body is a frankenstein-like variety of natural pigments. in addition to the whole blotchy face thing, my arms and shoulders go brown at the drop of a hat, and yet my legs remain glow-in-the-dark white regardless of the amount of sun they get.

The only way to redress the balance is by slapping on a bit of fake tan. Which is fine. Except that my slapdash approach inevitably leads to smears and blobs on the knobbly bits, and suspiciously pale patches on the backs of my thighs from sitting down too soon after application.

U is for: Underarm squidge (and other squidgy bits)

Because it’s so bastard hot it’s that time of year where I can either broil away under too much clothing or bare all in whatever shapeless summer acoutre I can mustre and hope no-one pays much attention to the squidgy bit under my arms and above my bra strap.

Why do I have squidge in such weird places?! WHY?!!!!

V is for: Volatile moods

There’s nothing like a hot day with loads of over-exuberant outdoors playing and sugary ice creams to amplify my children’s mood swings. By the time it gets to about 4pm all three of them are ricocheting from unbridled hilarity to abject rage like a trio of drunken jilted brides-to-be propping up the bar on their wedding night.

W is for: Wine

Because after all this, I’m going to need a drink.

Strangely, that’s one thing that tends not to catch me out these days. And I’m going to take that as a win.

X, Y & Z –

I literally cannot think of a single Summer-related thing beginning with these letters, frankly I’m too hot and cranky to bother right now, but you get the idea.

Happy Summer, Motherlovers

Kate xx

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Did you like this blog post? Give some of my other shizzle a whirl too, you might find this one particularly amusing if your kids are of an age where you find yourself running the children’s party gauntlet every weekend.

You’ll also (probably) love The Mum Conundrum facebook group – I post lots of funny and random things from the interweb, and you can chat to other Mums / scroll through the comments / admire my memes whilst your sleep thief is keeping you up. My Facebook page has lots of funny and interesting stuff on it too …A like and a follow is always much appreciated, you know ;0)

I’m also on twitter quite a bit, so do say hello if that’s your bag.

Oh, and Instagram for a more visual documentation of my chaotic life, and Pinterest – for tips and hacks and things to make yours less chaotic.

You can also email me if you’ve got an idea for something you’d like me to write about, or if you’d like to work with me. Feel free to hit me up here.

Take Your pick, or stalk me on all of them –  the more the merrier x

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I’ve added this post to some of these cracking Bloggers LinkUps, check ’em out x

 

 

13 comments on “The A-Z of Summertime Errors – Cautionary Tales From A Hot, Cranky Mum.”

  1. That is so funny. Excellent post. I barely made it past the lack of nappies and brown toes without rolling around. That was actually my exact day today. I am on my 4th kid so you would think I would know better, but nooooooo!! #Coolmumclub

  2. Haha love this! Bastard Hot! Too true. Also with the arses..too many arses about…wen to the local swimming pool for my daughters swimming lesson (it’s outdoors) and then are teenage girls there cavorting in g-strings…god help me!!! Thanks for linking up to #coolmumclub with this absolutely loved it! xox

  3. I’m loving the summer in the UK, I don’t have a single complaint to make about it, despite the boob sweat, as I live in Dubai and can’t usually get outdoors without passing out #triumphanttales

  4. Yup totally with you on the fan front – every year we say we’ll buy one, and at every heatwave we realise we never got around to it. BUT I DID finally get around to buying myself a nice maxi dress last year so I’m strutting around in that this year and I love it! #blogcrush

  5. Bastard hot! That is what it is! And I love it! My body works better in the heat, so no complaints. ANd that fab drippy ice cream looks so very good! Stay cool, momma! ##blogcrush xoxo

  6. This! All of this. I think you have just summed up every mother in the UK right now! Brilliant! PS. I got a cracking maxi in Sainsbury’s the other day – by far the nicest one I own and I own a few! Thanks for sharing with #TriumphantTales!

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