Texas in July

It's July 15th. It's 104 degrees outside. I'm hot, I'm tired, and the last thing I feel like doing is 'blogging'. But here I am.

We have enjoyed 27 straight days of 100 degree weather here in beautiful south Texas. My 5 kids are home from school for their annual 11-week summer vacation. How do I know it's 11 weeks? I know for two reasons. First, I have 5 kids. Anyone with more than two knows exactly how long the summer vacation is. Second, summer vacation used to be 10 weeks. How did this extra week happen? I don't exactly know. I just know that somewhere between the summers of 2006 and 2009 it turned from 10 to 11 weeks. I remember that one of those summers, I was pretty sure of the date the kids would return to school, and found out to my horror that they had a week longer than I thought. Somehow, the school system is out to destroy everything mothers hold dear.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I love them fiercely. Sometimes I wish I could gather all 5 into my arms and never let them go. But, let's be reasonable here. We all have our limits.

Which brings me to the title of my blog. You will not find mushy gushy stories of sickening cuteness on this blog. I'm not that kind of mom. I don't carry band-aids and aspirin in my purse. I don't kiss boo-boo's (usually) or live with delusions that my kids are the brightest, sweetest little angels on the planet. Oh, I know they can be. I just don't gush about it or brag to other moms about it. What you will read here is down to earth, real mother stuff. I don't sugar coat, and I don't skip the parts where I lock myself in the closet because it's the only quiet 20 square feet in the house.

Speaking of being in the closet, I have found myself there a few times recently. Not in the post-20th-century-I'm-confused-about-my preferences way, although I'm sure that it would amuse some of my gay friends to think so. More in the: I-have-5-bored-kids-at-home-and-I'm-pregnant-with-the-sixth way. If there was a graphic illustration that would accurately depict this feeling, I would post it. But instead, I will blog about it and try to give you, the reader, some inkling of a glimpse of how it feels. It will take a long time. And you may never understand. But as families are becoming increasingly smaller these days, and there are fewer and fewer of my species (mothers of 6 kids... born one at a time thank you, and not stolen/adopted out from under their 3rd world family) out there, I feel somehow bound to represent those of us who are not the artsy, crafty, cookie baking (although I do love to bake cookies, mostly because I love to eat them) hem-sewing, blankie-knitting, frilly dress wearing type.

What I hope to accomplish with this attempt at blogging is first, to give myself an outlet for the broad spectrum of my interests and emotions; and, second, to occupy the spare 5 minutes I have where if I don't do something I will go insane. If by chance, some mom out there stumbles onto this blog and realizes that it's OK to lock yourself in a closet every once in awhile and that some mothers make their kids forage for their own food, so much the better. If other people find it interesting I will be surprised, but not ungrateful. Sometimes I think this world needs a very healthy dose of real un-Hollywooded reality. But that's a blog for another day.