What I learned from escaping my hot house
What I learned from escaping my hot house
On Tuesday afternoon when I left home to pick up my kids from school it was 100+ degrees outside. It was like opening my oven, minus the comforting scent of banana nut muffins. More like slow roasted asphalt with a hint of chick feces.
Upon our return, with our air conditioning still broken, opening the door into my house was stagnant and dense. Now add a whiff of suffocation and claustrophobia. The cedar ceiling in my living room mixed with the compost we’ve left out in the kitchen, and the smell of our everyday things brewing in my house was a recipe for mugginess on steroids. Also, who in my house left the leftover Poke (raw tuna) on our counter?!
Outside was indisputably awful. Inside was another realm of bad so we ran back into the car, with the air conditioning blasting.
(For more detail on our sweaty journey, you can read about heat wave-stravaganza here.)
A little confession
After a few people heard and read about us staying in my hotbox home instead of escaping to a hotel during the most sweltering week of the year, I got a few high fives. I got notes of admiration. Pats on the back for my utmost heroism.
Survey says I deserve the mug, World’s Best Mom (for making my kids sweat it out)
Some texts to me this week:
“Days like that build character and closeness between those sharing it.”
“You guys are troopers! This is a good teaching moment for all of you!”
Hold up. This went too far. I need to clear something up with you.
I didn’t opt to stay home because I’m a martyr. Our first reason to stay also wasn’t so that my kids can look back at this moment with fond (or terrible) memories, and build an extra layer of thicker (and sweatier) skin.
In reality, we had shit to do, animals to feed, school to attend. We have a smooth rhythm with our kids at home. And we have home offices we feel more comfortable working in than finding a windowless fluorescent-lit business center at the hotel.
Leaving was inconvenient. Staying and being hot was a little less inconvenient.
When we chose to stay, we were happy that this decision had a bonus. It would help show our kids we can power through the difficult times.
A little moment
Then we were given a gift. A friend was in town staying at a luxe hotel for 3 nights. This hotel has a promotion; guests that stay 3 nights can have the 4th night free, so he invited us to stay in his place. Normally, I’d resist a bit and think about it more, that’s a very generous offer. But I was too hot to mull it over. I had zero gripes about being polite about it. I practically pushed the women and children out of the way just to save myself from this place.
Then I had a moment in my head, a place I seem to be at way too much. I wondered if I’d feel like the comments I received earlier in the week were for naught. Am I no longer tough? Would it be embarrassing to admit we had to escape?
But knowing we had this treat ahead of us was incentive for me to get through the next couple days. But was this carrot stick a false sense of strength?
Nope. I quickly stopped myself. This is a false sense of guilt. A feeling that serves an ugly purpose of making me feel low for invalid reasons.
I learned that, yes, I could muster through the heat. But who am I trying to prove I can do it? No one.
We checked into our hotel and set the thermostat to 73. For the first time in almost a week, we slept well, and without hard ice packs in our beds poking us in our backs.
We also received another bonus. The heat wave broke and it rained today.
I can’t wait to open the door to a mist in my face.
P.S. our A/C is still broken!