dry heat

When you're stewing in your own sweaty juices (literally or figuratively which ever seems least gross to you) by 8:10 every single morning you start to think that the only option to stay cool is to linger in front of the open freezer all day. 

But it's a little crowded, all 3 of us in front of the freezer...so...we go outside and live it up poolside until lunch and naps most mornings. I try to stretch the fun-ness out as lonnnggg as possible because inevitability Rhett will start to not-so-subtly hint that he's not buying my hype about our luxurious blow up pool. Either he wants to go to the "fountains" or the "swim lessons pool" and he'll only ask 1352 times in a 6 hour time frame.

So this week I tried to seize the fun mom thing. (Yes, I enjoy setting myself up for failure.) I decided to finally follow through on a promise made tens of times to Rhett that "we'd go to the fountains tomorrow." Why? I don't know. Guilt complex finally kicked in? 

Here's the thing. Going to the pool is not just an outing it's an epic event. When people with small children say something along the simple lines of, "and then I got the kids dressed" what they really mean is, "and then I spent 57 minutes issuing threats, hunting down items of clothing that haven't fallen victim to slobber dribbles or yesterdays snacks and taking gambles on whether I think the diapers can handle another few hours of wear." So when you add getting all the pool/sun stuff ready to the mathematical equation, it becomes Isaac Newton certified. And it always seems to take longer to get ready then we spend at the oasis. So color me hesitant to stray too far from the front door some days. 

But once we make it out the door and the "sunscream" is applied everyone is a happy camper. 

I'm not sure where Rad's bathing suit is...

Rad is in the middle of summer splash pad puppy love. He always drinks enough to satisfy a camel or get leprosy. Whichever comes first. When he's not busy sitting on a jet of water he's busy being the resident life guard, patrolling the pad with a very serious bottom lip. 

And below you will witness what Rhett does dozens of times over and over and over. Does it get old you ask? Not for him...

Belly flops all the live long pool session. 

Oh I was there too. Anyone want to challenge me to a pasty leg competition? No takers? I thought I might win that one. 

I'm hoping all this fun will launch me into the running for Mother of the Century...and beyond. But let's be honest, I'd be happy with just a gold star.