Like Palm Springs, Yet Not

We're in the full swing of summer over here. The days are super hot this week, up over 100 degrees. The weatherman says it'll be 105 today. When it's hot and brilliant and cloudless like this, I can almost, almost squint my eyes and pretend that we're in Palm Springs. Except, well, even though P.S. is just over an hour northeast of us, it's still sort of another dimension and lifetime away, too. Where Palms Springs is lousy with old people and gay realtors (not to disparage either group -- I'm just sayin'), this place is instead lousy with kids, kids and more kids, and the people who take care of them (stay at home moms like me). Also, we still cool down pretty quickly after dark, which I guess is nice for most, but listen -- until you've sat out by the pool, under the stars, on a 95-degrees-at-10pm Palm Springs night, you've never lived.

Speaking of staying home with the children -- I'm also celebrating the fact that as of July 1, I'm no longer serving as Co-President of my neighborhood chapter of this group:
The group whose name I cannot mention here. No, that's not quite true. It's just that the club, for whatever reason seems to operate under a "Fight Club" method of survival, which is "the first rule of MOMS Club is there IS no MOMS Club." At least not out on the Internet, besides their official site. I've run into a few stories out there of people being asked to remove links to their site, or being asked to delete any mention of them. They're a little defensive, officially, and their literature and statement of intent reflect a rather dated, 1980s defensiveness about the choice to stay home with the kids. I have to say, the club, or at least our local chapter, has worked out well for me. For the first time as an adult, I have a fairly steady social life and have even made a couple of real, true friends here in town, friendships that don't hinge on the fact that we're also mothers. A bizarre turn of events for me, the former Official Loner of the world, and also, that girl who didn't get along with women, much. That part still seems true sometimes -- but for a group of over 50 very different women, we get along pretty well. (It probably helps that it's awfully rare to have all 50 together at any point.) As for the fact that I served as Co-President for this group for the last 12 months, all I can say is that my volunteering for the job should stand as proof of what a terrible sucker I am for flattery.

Today, and the rest of the week, will feature more SPF 50 sunscreen for the kids, more splashing in sprinklers and water slides in the backyards of friends, more coming inside at twilight to get washed up from the hot, sweaty day. More June bugs at my front door in the dark, and more clear and starry summer night skies. Ah, we're in the swing of it all.