It’s hot

I’ve been doing my best not to complain too loudly, but it is definitely time to admit that I am reaching the end of what I can tolerate. But that’s the funny thing about heat, right? And weather in general.

It doesn’t care what you can tolerate. 

Our new house has no A/C. In the first couple weeks that we moved in, this didn’t bother me so much. It’s an old house, built in such a way it was meant to withstand harsh Canadian weather. The brick insulates well, holding cool air in. Over the day, it eventually heats up, but cools off nicely at night, once again holding the cool air in for comfortable living conditions. It does, however, require those cool nights. 

22 degrees Celcius is not sufficiently cool.

22 degree Celcius every night for a week is pure hell. 

Add on to the problem that someone sprung the extra cost to get casement windows for our beautiful Victorian semi. Sure, they might be classier. They might be more expensive. They might allow the window to open more completely. But, casement windows won’t allow for a cost-effective window A/C unit. I am drowning in sweat and humidity. 

I broke yesterday. It was a Facebook post that caused it. Someone on one of the many mommy groups I’ve found myself a member of put out a shout-out to all the pregnant moms in the group, struggle through with their little furnaces in this heat. The thread filled up with pregnant woman complaining about the lack of air conditioning in the subway cars on their morning and afternoon commutes, or their inconsiderate husbands who jack their air conditioning up to *gasp* 24 degrees. 

I wanted to punch every single one of those mothers in the face.*

So, I admitted that I couldn’t really do it anymore. I complained. A lot. I get no break from the heat, unless I managed to get Isabel and I to a drop-in or the library – which, here in our new city, has proven disappointing time and time again. I’m 30 weeks pregnant. And Isabel is a ball of energy, who only seems bothered by the heat when it’s time too sleep. I’m grumpy. So grumpy. I. Can’t. Do. It. Anymore. So, Mark texted his brother to see if he had a spare window A/C unit, and while he went off to go pick it up, I rearranged the nursery, which has been a disaster since we moved in. It’s one of the only rooms in our house with a sliding window.

And so, here we are. It’s nap time. We went to a free drop-in this morning, which was blessedly cool, almost cold, and now she’s asleep, and I’m taking refuge in this room too, homemade popsicle in hand, the hum of our borrowed air conditioner a comfort. One little room in our house, an oasis. 

*Not really. They’re an amazing group of women and I have appreciated being able to be a part of their community. 

A Rainy Day in the Play Room

Isabel was eating her grilled cheese sandwich and watermelon lunch when it started to pour. Gone were our plans for the afternoon – a day spent in the wading pool and sandbox in the backyard, perhaps while I made some progress on ripping out the overgrown flowerbeds that surround her grassy backyard play space. I can’t complain that our afternoon plans were displaced by rain; we need it, and badly, and I was instantaneously grateful for the rain and the noticeable temperature drop it brought with it. 

We settled in the play room instead. 

This room used to be dark red, and with one tiny window in the corner and a second half moon window in the door, it was incredibly dark and unpleasant to spend much time in. But this room was one of the reasons we bought this house. When we started house hunting, I added a separate play room space to our list of like-to-haves for a new home. In Toronto, we had little space for Isabel’s toys. Now in a different housing market, we were looking at much larger houses; a play room just for her was suddenly not out of reach. 

But it was dark. So we painted it.  My parents came to visit for a three day painting extravaganza and, at the end of it, we had a much different room, one Isabel and I certainly don’t mind spending time in. We need some art on the walls, maybe, and a bit of a better storage situation for her growing collection of toys, but we will grow well into this room.

And, maybe one day, she’ll even learn about the delights of independent play in this room.

(I’m not holding my breath.)