Know What We Haven't Talked Enough About?

The weather.  I really feel there hasn't been enough bitching here about summer heat, don't you?  And NOW, we can add a new and interesting dimension to the bitching with the arrival of the new baby.  YAY!

I don't know what it is, but apparently I only give birth to extreme sons.  Cubby was born in the winter.  But not just in the winter;  he was born during one of the worst stretches of winter weather we've had since living here.  It literally snowed every day his first week of life, accompanied by wind and very low temperatures.  Super for a newborn, let me tell you, especially in our house.

Charlie, in what is obviously his first assertion of differentiation from his older brother, decided to come during a particularly brutal heat wave.  Not that this matters when I'm sitting in the climate-controlled hospital, but that little idyll ends in about three hours.  And then it's home to our 85 degree bedroom, to cuddle close to a hungry little inferno all night long.  I made the mistake of looking at the forecast.  It's supposed to be 96 degrees on Tuesday.

I'm not going to look at the forecast again. It doesn't help my mental state.

But at least I'm not pregnant anymore!  There's always a bright side.