Well, we are officially four days into this goddamn heat wave and I have miraculously managed to not hog-tie the kid or worse, maim him. After all I can’t blame global warming, the sun, or the position of our apartment – which receives no air or breeze at all, ever – on the mini Huygh. Therefore, I can’t in good conscience do anything to him as he wails in this 30 degree weather because he and I are two peas in one seriously boiling pod. At the very least I understand his frustration and that quells my rage – lucky for him.


Now, I know complaining about 30 degree heat waves isn’t going to sit well with all my readers because many of you live under hotter conditions I am sure. But let me address this by saying I am not a summer girl, I don’t even appreciate the niceties of summer that supposedly go along with this season in particular. I was born in the dead of winter and ever since it has been my personal goal to blot out the sun so I can live in eternal night and cold … God this is like something I would have written at 16 when I was riddled with angst and depression, in other words, the good old days.

Point being, I hate this weather. I am not equipped for this weather. I am currently suffering with my period too so that combined with this heat made me almost kill my husband last night. Reason? Because he walked through the bloody door. Right. This apartment gave Jonah and I cabin fever and when J arrived home, I tore into him like Jack the Ripper on a salty wench. Of course now, apologies have been rendered, however; I am sure the damage is already done. Just like slicing up an innocent civilian, I can’t just put back together Hubby’s feelings after pulverizing them with my word daggers.

In the end though, I managed to keep the kid together and not lose it on him, the same couldn’t be said for the Hubby. I’m not exactly sure which would be worse – and I say this in jest – considering I can always make another baby but there is no one else in the world like my J. Attacking someone irreplaceable doesn’t seem like my best laid plan, does it … Ah hindsight. You malicious bitch.

This all brings to light what one issue I have to work on immediately. Not letting my frustrations get the best of me. This is something my mother is always telling me to do – which ticks me right the hell off – because obviously she’s right. I am far too quick to lose patience with Jonah, Hubby or anyone else for that matter and the problematic thing is, I think it is my own doing which drives me to that point of utter exhaustion, frustration and quickly following rage. It is my own personal issues, ones that remain unsolved that keep me one level below “losing it” and so when a small bump in the road comes along I am zero to sixty in less than a second and no one sees it coming. Ensuring maximum damage.

My problem these days is that this beautiful weather is lost on someone like me because I am still stubbornly not doing simple things to improve my situation. Since having Jonah I haven’t lost the weight I gained with him. I’ve just watched the scale bounce up and down with that extra 15 pounds – and this is 15 pounds on top of already too much weight – and obviously it’s making me miserable. Especially now in the season of sleeveless shirts and mini skirts, sun-drenched days and warmly lit nights.


I should be enjoying this, says my brain, not anticipating its demise.

Hence, yesterday I joined a gym but I am still sitting in that pit of feeling completely hopeless. Why? Because I’ve done this all before and failed miserably. I don’t know how many summers have to go by before I fix this. Fix myself. I worry that it will escalate passed just losing summer after summer too. What if I lose my husband or a best friend or worse … though I can’t imagine something worse.

I go back for “day two” at the gym tonight with Bestie in tow for support. She’s definitely not right about skim milk being a decent substitute for cream in coffee but she was more than right when she said each time we hit the gym I’ll feel better.

Even after gory fight and having to sign up at yet another gym, by the time I stepped off the elliptical last night I like to think I felt a little spark of change. Change for the better.

You know I am always blogging about parenting a child … about how I am managing to keep my son on track and raising him to be the best that he can be … Well maybe it’s time I turn a little of that effort inward and parent myself. I just hope I am listening this time. Here’s to the first step. Are you listening? That means put your goddamn gym pants on, girl.