Pretending It's Fall (Read: Your Late September Lyric Swap)

It's that time of year again, folks when I start to get mad that it is still so stinking hot outside. (Emphasis on the stinking. And the hot.) I tell myself every year that I shouldn't expect it to really cool down (more than just mornings and evenings, anyway) until the end of October or beginning of November. And yet, every September when I want to start baking apple struesel muffins to celebrate the first day of "Fall," I can't help but shake my fist at the Universe that our highs here in Phoenix are still in the triple digits and will probably continue to be for the next few weeks at least. (But guess what? I make the muffins anyway. Take that, Universe.)

Rather than spend all my energy on fist shaking and what-not, I decided to put it towards a little lyric re-writing to say goodbye to summer. (You know, since I should probably conserve my energy for getting through the next couple of 105 degree days.) Even though summer is still not really over here,  and won't be for a while, I find that if I am going to survive, I need to believe that it will be soon.

So here, for your reading and/or singing pleasure, is "Pretend It's Fall" to be enjoyed to the tune of "Red Rubber Ball."

I've prayed and prayed you'd bid us farewell

It's going to be October soon, and it's still as hot as h@##

Now I know you're not the only season of the year

"The high today is 70," is all I want to hear

But I think it's gonna be alright.

Yeah, the worst is over now

It's time to make some pumpkin pie and pretend it's fall.

You never cared for the hours I've perspired

Your only job has been to make me sweaty, hot, and tired

Always scorching, never cooling, that's the way you are

When I pick up my kids from school, I can't turn off the car

But I think it's gonna be alright.

Yeah, the worst is over now

It's time to make some pumpkin pie and pretend it's fall.

You're not quite in the past, but you better get there soon

It's already 90 now and it's not even noon

These six long months of summertime are nearly at an end
The hundreds on electric bills is all we're going to spend

But I think it's gonna be alright.
Yeah, the worst is over now
It's time to make some pumpkin pie and pretend it's fall.

Oh, I think it's gonna be alright.
Yeah, the worst is over now
It's time to make some pumpkin pie and pretend it's fall.

(This post inspired by a "red rubber ball" sunrise that I recently enjoyed, and brought to you by Phoenix and its infamous six months of summer.)

{I'm So Glad} When Daddy Comes Home

Oh, my goodness. No wonder they all fight over who gets to sit next to him at dinner.

Sometimes (If You're Lucky)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you meet a new lady at Church. You hit it off in the hallway when you first introduce yourself, you get her phone number, and you hope you can be her friend.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, the first time you call this potential friend, you realize how easy it is to talk to this lovely and funny person, discovering all of the things that you have in common, and you stay on the phone forever, without even realizing how much time has gone by.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you are assigned to be her visiting teacher for a short while and your bond deepens. And you think, it is so easy and wonderful to be her friend.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you become such a fixture in one another's lives that her kids call you "Auntie Katie," which makes you melt every time you hear it.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, your friendship remains, over years of carpools, play-dates, pregnancies, moves (first closer to, and then further from, each other), many trials and difficulties, and, of course, various family drama.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get to be there for special events in each other's lives. And you recognize that while these events are important, you are also just happy in the knowledge that you are in each other's lives, in some form or another, every single day. 

Sometimes, if you're lucky, your oldest, second, and youngest children are the same age as your friends' children. You endure your last pregnancies together, and your kids come to love each other as if they were siblings. (And your third children, though different in age and personality, finally decide that they will get along, since you are going to be friends with their mom for a very long time.)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you love your friend's children as if they were your own, celebrating their accomplishments and victories, both small and large, and you know that she feels the same way about yours. 

Sometimes, if you're lucky, your best friend is Sarah. Through your 7+ years of easy, effortless friendship, she has supported you, listened to you, validated you, has let you vent and rant and cry when the need has arisen, and has been there for you in every way.

And sometimes, if you're lucky, you get to look forward to many more years of love and friendship with this wonderful person that you happened met in a hallway at church (what seems like) a lifetime ago.

Roald Dahl Does It Again

My new favorite quote. I shall ingest it and sprinkle its goodness upon my children.

Beautiful Faces

Today is the start of a four-day weekend. We are lucky enough to have plans to visit Laura in her quaint Flagstaff cabin from tonight until late Sunday morning. While I am thrilled with the prospect of getting out of the heat for a short while and even wearing pants, I am currently feeling overwhelmed with the necessary packing and prep, all the while trying desperately to keep a house {with four children in it} out of disaster mode, attempting to entertain and feed a certain busy {and hungry!} toddler, do laundry, help a 5-year-old and 10-year-old catch up on homework, answer the random questions of said 5-year-old {and dictate a shopping list to her}, grapple with the hundred things on my mind, referee disagreements, stress eat, veto inappropriate television shows, and run a couple of errands.

It's embarrassingly easy for me to get worked up and stressed out about these everyday occurrences, particularly when I wake up to the fact that the new-found freedom of having 3 out of 4 kids at school for a good chunk of the day happens to be in a four-day long pause mode.

So I am going to just take a deep breath, say a little prayer, and remind my tense shoulders, clenched fists, and frowny mouth to focus on what is actually important: all of the wonderful souls that surround me who are looking to me with their clear, bright eyes for all of the help and support and direction and understanding and love that it is my blessing to give.

It sure is a lot, but it's a GOOD lot, and just because something is incredibly hard, that doesn't mean that it can't also be wonderfully awesome.

I sure love these amazing souls and their beautiful, darling faces.