April really doesn't like summer. I could say hate but that might be a bit strong.
#1 I don't like heat. Whatever the locals say, don't believe them. It was over 100 degrees here last summer for a good six weeks. I almost melted to death. Anything over 70 degrees is warm enough. I should move to Oregon--I'd move to Ireland (Irish guys are really hot--maybe Sarah could hook up with a nice LDS one) but the kids would probably not take to that idea and Oregon is closer. This year everyone was complaining about the extended winter. Not me--I know what's coming. I may move into the basement this year.
#2 I used to look forward to summer and not being strapped to a schedule, but no more. I have children to entertain all day. For an exceptionally white person, going to the pool to supervise the children in 100 degree heat while I have to shroud myself from the sun isn't what I call fun. I got a really weird polka-dotted sun burn yesterday. Then there is of course the inevitable bathing suit drama. I spend a great deal of time at the pool just observing. "Does she have more cellulite then me? I think she might." or "It should be outlawed to look like that after having 5 children, or any at all for that matter. Curse her." I should have lived long ago, where it was fashionable to wear something that covers you head to toe when you swim. Or, maybe just not swim at all. That sounds good.
#3 Cleaning the house while the children are home is like...well you know...USELESS. For those who know me I am a girl that thrives in order. Order and children are not to be used in the same sentence. I might as well be trying to qualify for the Olympics. Those are about the chances I have of keeping an orderly house in the summer.
#4 Fighting, screaming, sassy, cheeky, onry, stubborn, demanding, whining, loving sweet children. Why is it all I want to do sometimes is be alone-or-I-may-kill-you and then I'm finally alone and all I can think about is how I want to be with my kids? I think I have split personality.
#5 Did I mention the heat?
Oooo--by the way--I hit 10 lbs. (F-I-N-A-L-L-Y) so Michael says 10 more (I say 20). He had me doing lunges all over Gold's Gym yesterday until I couldn't keep my balance and was falling into people. I thought--this isn't too bad-- then I woke up the next morning and now I hate him again. Sorry Michael.