People often ask me why I moved from California to Missouri. And this is the time of year I ask myself the same question. Why, Lina, why?

Our forecast this upcoming week: 106°, 104°, 105°, 98°, 100°, 97° (chilly), 100°

It depresses me just thinking about it.

By now, the kids and I are totally over the pool, completely bored with Candy Land, have seen all the good movies in the theaters, and have even gone to the freakin’ museum. What more can I possibly do to entertain them?

It seems inhumane to force them to play outside when I won’t even go to the grocery store because it’s too hot. So we just keep bumping into each other in the house, annoyed at each other’s existence.

Would I feel like this if I lived in California? Friends, can you weigh in on this? I think my attitude would be more buoyant if it wasn’t still 95° out at 10pm. If running a few errands didn’t cause back sweat and my good lipstick to melt.

Perhaps my children would go back to bike riding and trampoline jumping instead of breaking the window playing baseball in the family room?

Thank God I send the two big guys to camp on Thursday. It’s amazing how different the family dynamics are by just taking a kid or two away. Peaceful, maybe blissful, is the way to describe it. How can a mother love her children so much, but at the same time rejoice in their absence? We are a complex species.

This will be Max’s third time at camp and Thomas’s first. I am SO excited for them because they are so excited. I predict good letters to come and a well made dog bed. I’ll keep you posted.

The day after they leave Dalai Dan and I head to Colorado with the Shmaniel and Pissy Missy. Vacation with two kids? How awesome is that going to be? Half the car fighting, half the bathroom stops, half the “I’m bored”s.

I’m not heartless. I’ll miss the big boys. Maybe. A little. I’ll be so excited to see them when they get back on August 9th. My heart will be overflowing with love an joy to be with them.

And that bliss will be crushed shortly thereafter when the typical name calling, dinner table farting, and remote control fighting ensues. Back to frat house living.

August 16th won’t come soon enough…