Summertime. My absolute favourite time of year, well, it always used to be anyway. Then we moved to the Middle East and temperatures start to soar through May, becoming unbearable by mid-June, and you can forget about July and August.
Hot. Humid. Did I mention hot?
Someone once mentioned to me that it was considered a burn risk walking from their house to the car. And I laughed.
I thought they were joking. I was wrong.
Summer in the Middle East is most definitely not my favourite season. However, it is the time where I take part in the mass migration to cooler shores.
And that time is fast approaching
In a little over a month we will be boarding a plane and headed for cooler climes. More specifically, Derby. Where we will throw ourselves on the mercy of my mum for the next two months and relish the time spent outdoors.
The problem is as the children are getting bigger we’re having to re-arrange her house somewhat. And by re-arrange I mean strip it of furniture and replace with new.
Inside and out.
Last year saw the bench set that my mum and dad used to sit and calmly sip a sundowner on, collapse under the strain of two children climbing all over it. True, the teak patio furniture may have ended up a little weather beaten, having sat outside for ten years. But still, new chairs need to be ordered as I can guarantee that we will spend hours upon hours in the garden with the boys running round delighted to be outside once more. Whatever the weather.
The giant raised bed, stood empty for years, became a mud pit of delight last year. A quick trip to the garden centre filling it with plants and vegetables stopped the eldest climbing in at least. My mum is getting ready to replant it this year, with helpful suggestions to grow strawberries and not much else being shouted at her over Skype.
She’s also been mulling over ripping up the moss filled turf and replacing it with the hooverable grass, though I’m not sure how far along this idea she’s got yet. I can just imagine her pulling the beloved Dyson outside to keep her grass greener…
Then there is the inside.
I head home to my childhood bedroom, the boys stay in my brothers childhood bedroom. Which worked wonderfully last year, a single bed and a travel cot.
Except, you know, babies grow. And he wouldn’t be caught dead in a travel cot this year.
So my poor mum has spent the last week clearing the room out, painting it, and dismantling the bed ready for the arrival of bunk beds. Which were delivered yesterday. And now it’s all on her to assemble them ready for us. Sorry about that Mum!
Not to mention the countless toys they seem to have amassed there, that they won’t let anyone throw away. Ever. I think my favourite is the washing up brush that they decided was a mini mop. Or maybe the Go Jetter Vroomster that I made out of cardboard boxes. Whatever, we’ve had to invest in countless boxes to store them all.
And my mum thought her days of a house filled with child crap necessities were over.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Good job she loves us – I think she’s excited about us coming to stay….