O: The car is too hot. I won't get in the car. I guess we will just have to live here.

It was hot last week. No, scratch that. It was mind-boilingly, unreasonably, unacceptably hot last week. I wore my bathing suit cover-up in public because I couldn't imagine putting on real clothes.

hot, sweaty, and cranky, even if she doesn't look it

One day, we went to Pamper and Play, and you should seriously check them out, and not just for their wonderful air conditioning.

air-conditioning and an adorable, tiny, retro-kitchen, and a wonderful staff that watches your children while you enjoy some peace in the PARENT'S LOUNGE (that is a real thing with wifi and coffee)

One day, we went to school and melted at the park and sniped at each other for the rest of the day, except while we had a french fry party on the floor in the girls' air-conditioned bedroom.

One day, we just stayed home. Now, we don't have a pool, heck, we don't even really have a yard. I had thrown away last year's kiddie pool the week before because someone small, blond, and adorable had thought that it would be fun to fill it with rocks and potting soil, and it was genuinely too gross to salvage.

Instead, I filled three plastic storage tubs with water, grabbed a ton of small cups and two grown-up paint brushes, and set them to work.

P washed her precious rock collection.

O repainted my stairs.

When they started to lose interest about two hours in, I pulled out a tray of ice and frozen teething toys.

They drew on the cement with half of it, and ate the other half. Win?

When that lost its novelty, we had popsicles. When O snuck the last bite of P's popsicle, it was time to come inside.

There were a few casualties. Poor Fred, the teddy bear, got an unexpected and un-needed bath. P did attempt to wash Sam, with Poor Fred as a sponge, much to Sam's displeasure, but all and all it was a very enjoyable day.

I often try to do too much, or even worse, I often feel bad about what I can't do, what they don't have. We have made this choice, to live in this city, to live in this small space, to forgo a yard, to not live in what, I image, is a more typical suburban neighborhood. Most days, I feel good about that choice and genuinely believe that there are positives that outweigh the negatives.

The day we stayed home during the heat wave was one of those days. It really doesn't take much. Most of the stuff is superfluous. In fact, it might even get in the way. Play is so much easier than we grown-ups imagine it to be.

But I still really wish they had a garden.

Last year's bounty, our closest garden approximation.

O: For my next birthday, I want tools, house-building tools.

K: Okay. Why?

O: Because I want to build my own house and move-out. Don't worry. It'll be close by.

It is so hard to remember, when you are trying to finish a simple task made complicated by the squirming toddler on your lap, that someday they won't want to hug you in front of their friends.

It is so hard to remember, when they awaken every morning at 5:00am, that you will someday be dragging them out of bed.

It is so hard to remember, when every toy, book and art supply is strewn across the floor, the dishes are stacked inches from the ceiling, and no one has clean underwear, that someday this house will be empty, that even the junk drawer will be organized.

It is so hard to remember, when they cry at preschool drop-off, that someday soon, you will be the one crying as you leave them, be it the first day of elementary school or in their dorm room, or more likely, both.

It is so hard to remember, when you are frustrated and tired and impatient, that these moments are a gift, the things you will look back on with warmth, love, and longing, when things really get tough, when the stakes are so much higher.

And yet, it is impossible to forget, when you are rocking them to sleep, their heavy, sweaty bodies slack in your arms, their breath sweet and even, that they are only little for a second, that they are only ours for such a short time. Soon enough, we give them over, to kindergarden, to best friends, to sleep-overs, to summer camp, to college, to lovers, to the world. They are ours, in our hearts, forever, yet they are truly ours for only a moment.

Why is that so hard to remember?

It Doesn't Take Much

It's So Hard to Remember