It’s too hot. There, I’ve said it.

Our little island is not blessed with good weather. Most summers are short and wet. But not the case this year. It’s hot. Frigging hot. And we couldn’t be less prepared.

The fun thing about England is that as soon as it hits 18 degrees, we’re out. Parks and pub gardens fill with pasty limbs protruding from shorts and t-shirts. BBQs are lit, garden parties are hosted and kids play in paddling pools. Other countries are still sporting coats as we rush to wear our seldom used summer clothes.

Not this year though. Weeks of high temperatures have scorched the earth and shortened tempers. There isn’t a fan to be found in stock anywhere. We’re fed up of burnt sausages. Our children are forever coated in a greasy film of high factor suncream, and public transport has been rendered risky for all with a working sense of smell.

Now I appreciate this sounds very ungrateful and I too have wished for a hot summer that lasts longer than a fortnight, but we simply aren’t prepared for heat.

The heat has also made one stroppy toddler. A hot, sweaty, stroppy toddler. As a nation we’ve been advised to stay out the heat where possible. I can’t take the boy to the park as the play equipment is hotter than the sun. Most places I’d take him to are sans air conditioning. Soft play is a warehouse that gets comparable to an oven on mild days. I am genuinely concerned that children will just cook in this heat. I’ve been distracting him with tv during the hottest parts of the day but we’re like a cross between hermits and the mole people. Yesterday giving him an ice pop caused a tantrum of epic proportions, bedtime causes a similar meltdown and we haven’t put him in pyjamas in over a month. This Friday we’re set for temperatures to reach 33 degrees Celsius. Weather we quite enjoy on holiday. Where there are swimming pools. Or the sea. And it’s socially acceptable to drink ice cold beers in the day.

Perhaps I’ll miss it when it’s gone, but I’m more of an autumn girl anyway. It’s prettier and there are less armpits to avoid. (Why is it those who should use deodorant rarely do?) I can also take Wills out with worrying about him boiling in his own skin.

I never thought I’d say this, but rain would be great about now!

In other news:

Monday marked Captains three year adoptiversary! He cost us more than all my other pets combined in vet bills but we love the big hairy git.

Our son has the smelliest feet I’ve ever encountered.

It’s my uni besties wedding on Friday! I’m going to be ugly crying for most of the day.


Author: thebumpchroniclesblog

Thirty year old first time mum, sharing parenthood experiences/fails.

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