Heat (2)

Aha! Further enlightenment on attitudes to weather (see below: Heat ).

The newsletter from our neighborhood pool informs me that "inclement weather may necessitate early closure or delayed opening of the facility". Fair enough. Wonder what counts as inclement weather. Read on. "Such conditions may include heavy or persistent rain, air temperatures below 70 degrees, lightning and severe storm warnings." Wait a moment. What was that temperature? 70 degrees?

In my experience, 70 degrees is often the high point of a British seaside holiday. But to the Midwesterner, 69 degrees is too cold for your children to swim outdoors, and is on a par with lightning and severe storm warnings. I really should have been kinder to Midwesterners in Scotland, especially during the summer months. They were living on the edge.

Library loan

I rang up the library to ask if I could re-renew a book. I'd renewed it twice, and this is the limit of what I'm allowed to do online. The librarian said no, I couldn't renew the book again; two renewals was the limit. I said, oh please, I've moved house since taking out the book. She replied that if I had been hospitalised, and could provide written documentation, then she would be able to renew, but not for moving house. HAVE YOU EVER MOVED HOUSE? I wanted to ask, but I didn't. I guessed that if you are operating a system where you require written documentation in evidence of hospitalisation, you're probably not going to be empathetic enough by nature for a discussion on the comparative Richter scale scores of major life events.

This was all particularly galling, as I had pulled the trick at a different branch, and had found the lost library book the very next day. I suppose I could have tried pointing out the inconsistency in policy between branches, but there comes a moment when $21, set against the financial, emotional and whatever other costs of a house move (our third in 5 months) doesn't seem worth the argument.

I guess the charm of the English accent doesn't do it for everyone out here after all. Ah well.

Heat

It was with some horror that I read the policies of the YMCA, where my sons, 6-yo and 9-yo (although by then he will be 10-yo) are doing summer camps. Camps, I have discovered, don't have to be residential, or indeed have anything to do with camping or the outdoors. You can do soccer camp, science camp, even chess camp. A camp can last all day, or just a couple of hours. I have redefined my understanding of the word.

The YMCA camps involve team games, swimming, jollity and general fun. As far as I can tell. The policy that horrified me was the following:

"Physical activity is limited when the heat index reaches 100 degrees fahrenheit. Children will remain indoors when the temperature is 102 degrees or above, with the exception of pool activities."

What? You mean you will be taking my children outside to play dodge-ball or flush-tag or soccer when the temperature is 99 degrees? You will let them go swimming in an outdoor pool when it is over 102 degrees? I am horrified.

My thoughts turn to the community of American families where we lived in Scotland. Were they equally horrified when we wrapped our little ones up in fleeces and raincoats and wellies and sent them out to play in the grey windy drizzle of a Scottish winter? Did they whisper to each other "I'm not letting MY child go out in this" and find some excuse to stay in? Or did they, as I will do, take what precautions they could, trust in the resilience of children, and hold fast to the logic that if thousands of local children are alright in these conditions year after year, then mine will surely be alright too?

Life's big questions

I love the things that children ask.

We saw a dead bird yesterday. I explained to my daughter, 3-yo as I'm going to call her, what it was.

"Can it still flap?" she asked.

"No", I replied "it can't still flap. It has died and its body doesn't work any more. "

"Can I sit on it?" she asked.

Having a Field Day

It was Sports Day at school last week. They don't call it Sports Day here. They call it Field Day. This is very reassuring to the Brits amongst us (me and one other mum). It's good to know you'll have a field day whatever happens.

I have to confess I wasn't really looking forward to it. When the PE teacher, or "Coach" as he is, started the proceedings with a megaphone, asking "Is everyone feeling good?" and of course everyone was, vocally at least, my heart did sink. I am so British. There was another downward sinking movement when the loudspeakers, which had been putting out rather jolly mood-lifting music (Celebrate Good Times, Come On, da da da da, da, da da da daa, oooh hooo), was turned into a field-wide karaoke. Children doing karaoke. Not good. Not mood-lifting.

Apart from the karaoke, it was, however, surprisingly enjoyable. I was in charge of the javelin event. Kids would come up in pairs. One would launch a polystyrene noodle through the air, and I got their partner to stick a little flag in the ground where the noodle landed. The noodles had a weighted end, but no spike, which was just as well, as I did have a couple of direct hits on partners.

I tried to relate in an American sort of a way to the kids. This means remembering not to say "well done!", but "good job!" I said "good job!" with pretty much every noodle. Of course you have to put on a bit of an American accent for the duration of the phrase. If you say "good job" in clipped southern English, it sounds very unenthusiastic. You have to lengthen it into "jaaaab", giving you enough time to add in a bit of vigour and excitement. I find it rather expressive, and confess I have come worryingly close to preferring it to "well done".

The best moment of the day was when one little girl said to me "I've heard your voice before - in a movie" (she obviously wasn't fooled by the "good jaaabs"). I could have explained that I have an English accent because I'm English. But I didn't. I couldn't resist replying in an enigmatic tone, "Ah. Maybe I'm a movie star." I hope I made it a real field day for her.

Ready, Steady, Blog

Starting a blog. Rather intimidating. Best to pick a moment when I have enough time to think and write, digest and compose.

It's still less than 6 months since we moved to the US. It's less than one month since we moved house. There are boxes to be unpacked. There are piles of unpacked things to be put away. The children have just started their summer holidays. My parents-in-law have come from England for two weeks. We're about to transfer our technological life from an aging laptop to a new computer.

Ideal.