Melancholy

It's June. Notice how I say that. Matter-of-factly. But my head feels all damp and cob-webby. 
I should be saying IT'S JUNE!
Meaning I've made it through another Northwest winter and survived unscathed.
I know winter should be cold, rainy, and sometimes snowy...but spring comes around and begins to taunt me with the promise of warmer days.
I wait, I wait, I wait, as the mercury slowly crawls up the thermometer..."Come on! Come on! I urge it upwards...
In May I expect temperatures in the 50's.
I plead every time I pull on my boots "It's May, just keep in in the 50's."
It rarely hears me.
But then there are days like it's been saving up. Like all those little Fahrenheit's were saving their decimal points and spending them all in one day; and suddenly it's like, 74 degrees.
We drop everything on those days.
I'm tempted to pull my one public school child out for days like those, knowing how precious they are. 
It's June.
I expect it to be above 60 degrees in June.
I expect 45% of the days to be sunny.
This is my plea with you June!
It's been a long year and I'm tired of being "indoor Mom." The play-dough has all become the same mushy gray color at this point of over-use, much like the sky this morning.
The water-colors are all used up and cracked.
The dress-up clothes are spread about the house on a daily basis.
Let's not address the state of my slippers. My toes are screaming for air but it's TOO cold to let them out to frolic.
I tell my children to go out, and they do, but it doesn't last because everything's mushy.
My 2 year old is about to enter threedom. She won't leave my side I tell you! Some days I need a breath, I need momentum, and I just can't get any!
Can I blame the weather? I will.
She needs to be outside with her brothers, filling up water balloons and playing with the hose. She needs to be collecting dandelions instead of piling my freshly folded laundry on the cat.
I will ask more of you, Weather, later in the month. I will expect 70's and blue skies and early morning runs that fuel my body like no cup of coffee can.
And if you give that to me and I still feel like a wet sock long forgotten under the trampoline in the backyard, then I know this melancholy I feel is more than the weather, and I'll know I can't blame you anymore.