Dear Kid,

Oh, the weather outside is frightful. Dreadful. Completely horrific.

No, it’s not the middle of the winter. No, I haven’t been magically spirited off to the North Pole.

It’s August in Ohio. Which sounds like a song title from a third-rate musical.

It’s certainly third-rate weather.

By which I mean I need to grow gills in order to breath. We’ve taken humidity to entirely new level. Two more drops of water and we will need to paddle to get around. It’s less humid in rain forests. It’s less soggy three miles below sea level—in the sea. I am in desperate search of an oxygen molecule not cozying up to two hydrogen molecules.

Should this surprise me? Of course not. Happens every year right about this time.

Does it surprise me? Of course it does. I expect lovely weather every day, especially weekends. I’m usually disappointed, but I keep hoping.

Fact: wearing a snorkel on highly humid days does not help.

Neither does hoping that the oxygen will give up the ménage et trois scenarios. When I want beach front property, we’ll move to the beach. Right now, I just want to breathe.

Happy weekend.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Have you noticed that the summer Olympics are coming up? And that they’re going to be in Rio?

Yeah, you probably knew that. Which means that it is time to learn a little bit about Rio de Janeiro. Specifically, the big statue that photo-bombs every picture of the city.

The statue in question is called Christ the Redeemer. At least in English. It’s called Cristo Redentor in Portuguese which you don’t speak.

The statue is 98 feet tall, has a wingspan of 92 feet, and stands (literally) at the top of Corcovado Mountain (which is 2,300 feet high). This is why you look up to see it.

That people can look up to see it without throwing their entire spinal cord out of alignment is one of the reasons it’s considered one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

Stick with me here for a minute. The statue is in Brazil, was create by a Polish-French sculptor, the face was made by a Romanian artist, and it’s named in Portuguese (because that’s what they speak in Brazil). His outstretched arms are a symbol of peace.

Maybe it is the perfect piece of art for the Olympics.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Now it’s officially summer.

You may have thought summer started when school ended (wrong). You may have thought we needed to wait for the summer solstice on June 20 (wrong). You may have thought that summer started on the first day Dad chose to put vegetable seeds in the ground (not even close).

Summer started two nights ago.

Two nights ago I went to the gym after work. I was little later leaving work than general and I had an errand or two to run, so I was a bit later getting to the gym. Then there was the whole sports bra thing. The point is that by the time I got home and made dinner and Dad and I sat down to eat it was about 9pm or so.

We ate out on the porch and were in the midst of a fascinating conversation about which day we’d tackle the weeding when something caught my attention.

Fireflies.

Yes, the fireflies were out and flashing around and it was awesome.

Just in case you were curious, yes, the fireflies flashed in unison and lined up forming the letters SUMMER IS HERE. That’s how I know it’s summer.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Oh, the joy of helping children pack for camp.

Actually, I really enjoy spending time with you guys. And I’m fine with helping you choose and organize the 7 thousand things you will need to successfully negotiate the next two months.

The headache from writing your name on everything in permanent markers, not so much.

Time discussing what you should take with you? Fabulous. The pain behind me eyes when Pi wails, “Can you just make the decision for me? No, not THAT!”

The time we spend distracted and chatting about nothing at all? Wonderful. Trying to figure out how to get the silver permanent marker to write on your black socks? Sigh.

Discussing the number of pairs of underwear one needs? I have absolutely no words. Mostly because I can’t count that high.

Overall, enjoyable time well spent.

You guys are well past the age where I can do all the packing for you. And well past the age where I read the list and you fetch the clothes and it goes just that smoothly (I wonder if it ever really was that smooth or if I’m employing selective memory). You’re also well past the age where your clothes are small enough to fit easily into one large bag. And you have diverse interests which come with specialized gear.

Amazingly, we fit everything in one car. Including people.

Have a wonderful summer, kiddo. Keep us posted.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

My friend Sue was listening to Good Morning America the other day while she was doing things around the house. She was alone in the house and the show was keeping her (and the cats) company as she cleaned up and got her day started, so she was only half listening to what the talking heads were saying.

All of a sudden a phrase caught her ear.

“They were talking about summer toilets,” she told me. “I’d never heard of a summer toilet. I wondered if it was the next big trend and I’d somehow missed it.”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to really pay attention to the show for a minute or two.

“It turns out they weren’t talking about summer toilets. They were talking about the summer toy list. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or not…”

It reminded me of the game of telephone where the first person whispers “Anything you can do, I can do better” and the last person says (out loud) “Cow patties eat frost-bitten whales in August.”

Happy today,

Love, Mom