Just to clear up a bit of confusion...
Yes, 14-yo's video does make it look as if we live somewhere beautiful. No, actually, we don't. Some of the pictures he used were taken on our holidays in Colorado and Arkansas. Just felt I had to put the record straight, as I have in the past whinged on about how there's no beautiful scenery near us. Thank you for all your comments, by the way. He loved them.
Anyway, here we are, back again, new school year beginning. Here are three lists. I used to be a civil servant, and I still find lists a good way of organising thoughts. Or of writing a blog post when you can't quite string it together in any other way.
1 Nice things about returning to America
a) People. Friends. A group of three families who organised a 'welcome back' barbecue for us, hiring the party room at the local pool, and whenever I said "what can I bring?" insisted "we've got it covered". Americans do hospitality and welcome in a fabulous way.
b) Each time we come back, it feels very different. Like a child starting a new school year isn't actually any taller than on the first day of term than they were on the last day of the holidays, but somehow they seem it. A step away and a step back brings a new perspective.
c) The weather seems sensitive to our arrival. For the second year running, a hot and humid spell has broken the day after we get back. It's very nice of the weather to be so accommodating. It must know I don't cope very well with the heat. This year, I am especially grateful, as it's been record-breakingly hot. It was over 100 degrees (38 celcius) for over 40 consecutive days, and one day it reached 113 (45). I have a little shared laugh with people here about how in England we all pluck our t-shirts away from our bodies and woggle them about, trying to create a tiny breeze, saying "wow it's hot today" when it gets to 80 degrees. Sorry, British people. I have a joke at your expense. (When I was an au pair in France, the little boy I looked after thought a t-shirt was called a p'tit shirt - isn't that sweet?)
2 Things that have changed in Britain
a) Oreos. I spotted some in a supermarket. That's a shame. They're not a patch on hobnobs, digestives, kitkats, or a million other nice British biscuits. And they leave a horrible black ring round your child's mouth. Don't buy oreos.
b) Jaffa cakes. Don't like them. Never have. Never will. (They haven't changed, so I don't know why they're on this list. Wrong list, Jaffa Cakes.)
c) Moving on to non-biscuit-related topics. Sharpies. Yay, wa-hoo wa-hey. Sharpies have arrived in Britain. I cannot imagine how we have lived without them in a satisfactory manner till now. Go out this minute and buy yourself a Sharpie. (Except you, Josephine, you've already got one.)
d) Speed cameras. They are everywhere. I mean, everywhere. Have they been breeding?
e) Top Gear presenters. They are everywhere. Not only is Top Gear on television whenever you turn it on, but they are presenting pretty much every other television programme there is as well. Including that rather addictive one that's made in Argentina because Health and Safety in Britain wouldn't allow it. What's it called...?
f) More Americanisms in British everyday speech. I don't feel very strongly about this. I think language evolves and grows, and you shouldn't try and put it in a cage and keep it. It needs to rove free, like the buffalo over the plains (though it didn't end terribly well for them in recent history). Rove... or should that be roam...? See, a case in point. We should all be free to grab whatever word we want, to suit the mood and the moment, and if that means that some become more popular and some die out (like the buffalo nearly have done), then so be it (though I do feel sad for the buffalo, so this is an imperfect simile). But I have noticed that there is an increasing number of words that have crossed the Atlantic. 'Mad' meaning 'angry'. 'Smart' meaning 'clever' (I blame smart phones, smart technology, etc for this one). 'Call' instead of 'ring' when talking about phoning someone.
3 Things that are still just too counter-cultural for me to love
a) Over-competitive sports for children. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (in fact I have a ranty blog post just waiting to spout out and rove all over my blog any day now on this very subject).
b) A phone message from a very chirpy student on our answerphone:
"Hi, Dr Husband, this is Francine from X University. I'm just calling on behalf of the university as the new academic year begins, to say how much we appreciate the faculty members. We just want you to know that the university values you so much, and we're so glad you're part of it."
Does this really work for most Professors? Really? Or do they, like Husband, stand glowering at the answerphone, making retorts about how a pay rise would do more to make him feel valued than employing a student on the minimum wage to go down the faculty phone list making vacuous calls.
Showing posts with label sport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sport. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Tales from the soccer pitch
I had my first experience of attending a girls’ Under 8 soccer match tonight. Husband has been more involved in 7-yo’s soccer exploits to date, and has even got himself appointed Assistant Coach to the team. But tonight he was at a meeting, so it fell to me to take her.
This was a make-up game. No, no… you’re on the wrong track. Not that kind of make-up. Just because it’s girls’ soccer, you’re thinking lipstick and mascara, aren’t you? It was a make-up game because a previous game in the season was cancelled for bad weather. I must admit I have a problem with the whole make-up game thing. I have a problem with the whole competitive league thing. Actually, it really annoys the pants off me. I think, on reflection, that it annoys me more than anything else in my life annoys me, at this point in time. It annoys me as much as it did when I wrote this post about it. I’ve hardly been able to think about it since, because my pants just fly off in annoyance if I do. Which is why the whole 7-yo soccer operation has been Husband’s responsibility. He keeps his pants on much better.
Anyway, tonight there was a make-up game, and I went along to watch. And my heart totally melted, and my pants stayed right on, because I tell ya, four-a-side soccer played by seven-year-old girls, is stomach-mushingly adorable. I’m going to give you the highlights.
1) 7-yo’s team all sport a purple clip-on hair braid. I have no idea why. Team identity or something.
2) 7-yo was discussing her soccer career with me in the car on the way, and declared she didn’t really know whether she was better at defence or soffence, and what did I think. I said I thought it was too early to say, but soffence sounded like it might be her thing. (And then I had to spoil it by saying that most people pronounce it ‘offence’ – I hate that part of being a mum.)
3) At half-time, our coach told the team “now remember, we switch ends, so show me which goal we’re aiming at from now on”, and the two players who were concentrating pointed to the wrong goal. The other two were engrossed in a conversation about their snack and drink. (This is the kind of thing that feeds my resistance to the whole idea of a competitive league.)
4) The score was 1-1. A third goal was scored by the opposition, but no-one knew whether it counted or not. One of their team had fallen over and had a sore finger. She was showing it to the ref, when one of the other players ran up to the goal with the ball and scored. No-one knew whether the ref had stopped play for the examination of the sore finger, or not. No ruling was made at the time, and so when it came to the end of the game, no-one knew what the final score was. (Are you beginning to share my reservations about the whole competitive league thing?)
5) The goalie on the other team, in a bored moment, twizzled her foot around in the goal netting and got stuck, and had to be untangled.
6) There was a lovely moment when I saw 7-yo skipping down the outfield. It brought a whole new meaning to fancy footwork.
7) 7-yo missed a crucial half minute or so, somewhere in the second half, because she was undoing her pony tail, taking her hairband off, and removing the purple braid. I could tell that she spent the next few minutes trying out the best running action for making her loosened hair swing from side to side. Luckily, there was no evidence that this distraction had any adverse impact on her soccer skills or the outcome of the game.
I was really proud of my sons, who came along to watch the game and cheer 7-yo on. I thanked them and told them I was proud, at which 7-yo pointed out that she had often been to watch their games. She’s right, of course. Over the years she has been lugged along to many matches, with a backpack full of Polly Pockets and colouring books, and has sat patiently on the sidelines or in the car if it’s cold or windy.The difference is, she doesn’t have the choice on these occasions; the boys do. Such is the lot of the youngest sibling. 10-yo entered into the spirit of the game, and called out instructions which, in the context, were decidedly ambitious: “pass the ball, pass the ball!” 13-yo has inherited more of his mother’s laconic detachment as a spectator, but understands the value of encouragement, and told 7-yo “good job” in an understated kind of way at half-time.
Ah, see how all my annoyance has drifted away. Maybe I could get myself nominated Assistant Assistant Coach. Or Snack Manager. Or Team Nurse. I think I’m going to need an excuse to go along to a few more of these matches. Do you think they have seven-year-old soccer in heaven?
.
This was a make-up game. No, no… you’re on the wrong track. Not that kind of make-up. Just because it’s girls’ soccer, you’re thinking lipstick and mascara, aren’t you? It was a make-up game because a previous game in the season was cancelled for bad weather. I must admit I have a problem with the whole make-up game thing. I have a problem with the whole competitive league thing. Actually, it really annoys the pants off me. I think, on reflection, that it annoys me more than anything else in my life annoys me, at this point in time. It annoys me as much as it did when I wrote this post about it. I’ve hardly been able to think about it since, because my pants just fly off in annoyance if I do. Which is why the whole 7-yo soccer operation has been Husband’s responsibility. He keeps his pants on much better.
Anyway, tonight there was a make-up game, and I went along to watch. And my heart totally melted, and my pants stayed right on, because I tell ya, four-a-side soccer played by seven-year-old girls, is stomach-mushingly adorable. I’m going to give you the highlights.
1) 7-yo’s team all sport a purple clip-on hair braid. I have no idea why. Team identity or something.
2) 7-yo was discussing her soccer career with me in the car on the way, and declared she didn’t really know whether she was better at defence or soffence, and what did I think. I said I thought it was too early to say, but soffence sounded like it might be her thing. (And then I had to spoil it by saying that most people pronounce it ‘offence’ – I hate that part of being a mum.)
3) At half-time, our coach told the team “now remember, we switch ends, so show me which goal we’re aiming at from now on”, and the two players who were concentrating pointed to the wrong goal. The other two were engrossed in a conversation about their snack and drink. (This is the kind of thing that feeds my resistance to the whole idea of a competitive league.)
4) The score was 1-1. A third goal was scored by the opposition, but no-one knew whether it counted or not. One of their team had fallen over and had a sore finger. She was showing it to the ref, when one of the other players ran up to the goal with the ball and scored. No-one knew whether the ref had stopped play for the examination of the sore finger, or not. No ruling was made at the time, and so when it came to the end of the game, no-one knew what the final score was. (Are you beginning to share my reservations about the whole competitive league thing?)
5) The goalie on the other team, in a bored moment, twizzled her foot around in the goal netting and got stuck, and had to be untangled.
6) There was a lovely moment when I saw 7-yo skipping down the outfield. It brought a whole new meaning to fancy footwork.
7) 7-yo missed a crucial half minute or so, somewhere in the second half, because she was undoing her pony tail, taking her hairband off, and removing the purple braid. I could tell that she spent the next few minutes trying out the best running action for making her loosened hair swing from side to side. Luckily, there was no evidence that this distraction had any adverse impact on her soccer skills or the outcome of the game.
I was really proud of my sons, who came along to watch the game and cheer 7-yo on. I thanked them and told them I was proud, at which 7-yo pointed out that she had often been to watch their games. She’s right, of course. Over the years she has been lugged along to many matches, with a backpack full of Polly Pockets and colouring books, and has sat patiently on the sidelines or in the car if it’s cold or windy.The difference is, she doesn’t have the choice on these occasions; the boys do. Such is the lot of the youngest sibling. 10-yo entered into the spirit of the game, and called out instructions which, in the context, were decidedly ambitious: “pass the ball, pass the ball!” 13-yo has inherited more of his mother’s laconic detachment as a spectator, but understands the value of encouragement, and told 7-yo “good job” in an understated kind of way at half-time.
Ah, see how all my annoyance has drifted away. Maybe I could get myself nominated Assistant Assistant Coach. Or Snack Manager. Or Team Nurse. I think I’m going to need an excuse to go along to a few more of these matches. Do you think they have seven-year-old soccer in heaven?
.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Bleueueueugh
OK, so on Saturday, I'm going to join in this fabulous blogging worldwide expat carnival thingy (it's here, in case you want to join in too), for which I need to write a post all about a marvelous aspect of my life in America - of which there are many. Trouble is, there is this really angry bleueueueueueueuegh feeling in me struggling to get out into a blog post, so I've got to let it free quickly, in time for normal 'not wrong, just different, yay for living in America' service to be resumed.
Here goes, then, with the bleueueueueueueueuegh Incredible Hulk anti-my-life-in-America bursting forth from my neatly buttoned oh-isn't-the-Midwest-just-the-place-to-be shirt.
STOP getting excited about St Patrick's day. You're not Irish. None of you. You might have ancestors who were Irish. That's not the same thing. And it's silly. If you don't wear green to school, other kids come up to you and pinch you. If you have a green dinosaur on your blue underpants, it doesn't count (looking at you, here, 10-yo - unless you really did show your underpants to all your fellow fourth graders, but I doubt you did). STOP selling green cookies, green chocolate, green everything, having people greeting customers at the door of the supermarket wearing green. It's silly. Stop it.
Stop being so competitive about sports. My daughter is 6. She wants to play soccer. I want her to have fun. I don't need her to be in a competitive league. I don't need her to have a team photo on 'picture day'. I don't want her to have a training session each week, and then a match at a variable time on a Saturday or Sunday. I don't want to build our week-ends round those matches. I don't want her to think that her soccer team is the be all and end all. I see that other people living here do want to do those things. What can I say? Bleueueueueueuueuegh!
You! Mr Sports Director of the local sports centre! Yes, I'm talking to YOU! When you have 16 girls aged 6 or 7 signed up for soccer, can't you SEE that it doesn't make sense to run a league? You are insisting on having 4 teams with 4 players in each. I have, politely and nicely, discussed with you on the phone how this isn't going to make for a successful experience. Kids get ill. Kids have other commitments at week-ends. Families have other priorities (well, some do). So sometimes there will be a team of 3 players or even 2 players. Can't you agree with me (and my daughter's team coach) that it would make a whole lot more sense to get the 16 girls together one evening a week, do training all together, split them into two teams, and play a game there and then. That way, we don't all have to trek out twice a week. That way, they will get a game, rather than turn out, only to find that the game is cancelled because not enough players have shown up. Four kids is not enough kids for five-a-side soccer. That isn't rocket science. I know you love leagues. I know you love competitive play. I know this is thinking outside the box in a very challenging and enormous way for you. But please, please, can't we just try my suggestion? Just once? You never know... it might work well. If it doesn't, then you can go back to your competitive league, where the coach is king, and picture day happens, and we end up with a winning team which gets a trophy, and runners up who get medals. But just this once, couldn't you just think a little sideyways?
Next rant point. Doughnuts are NOT breakfast food. Luckily, none of my children have breakfast at school. I see you have cereal and fruit on the menu, but I wouldn't trust my children not to go for the doughnuts. I wouldn't. Nor the 'strawberry toaster pastry'. I have to put that in quotation marks. Sorry. I just do.
And on the subject of school food, please don't make my 6 year old stand in the lunch line (what am I saying? the lunch QUEUE QUEUE QUEUE!) for half the allotted time, and then make her tip half her food in the trash because there isn't enough time left to eat it. Please. That one isn't rocket science either.
Bleueueueueueuegh. I had other things to say, but I just hit publish by mistake, so let's call it a day. A bleueueueueueueueueugh day.
Here goes, then, with the bleueueueueueueueuegh Incredible Hulk anti-my-life-in-America bursting forth from my neatly buttoned oh-isn't-the-Midwest-just-the-place-to-be shirt.
STOP getting excited about St Patrick's day. You're not Irish. None of you. You might have ancestors who were Irish. That's not the same thing. And it's silly. If you don't wear green to school, other kids come up to you and pinch you. If you have a green dinosaur on your blue underpants, it doesn't count (looking at you, here, 10-yo - unless you really did show your underpants to all your fellow fourth graders, but I doubt you did). STOP selling green cookies, green chocolate, green everything, having people greeting customers at the door of the supermarket wearing green. It's silly. Stop it.
Stop being so competitive about sports. My daughter is 6. She wants to play soccer. I want her to have fun. I don't need her to be in a competitive league. I don't need her to have a team photo on 'picture day'. I don't want her to have a training session each week, and then a match at a variable time on a Saturday or Sunday. I don't want to build our week-ends round those matches. I don't want her to think that her soccer team is the be all and end all. I see that other people living here do want to do those things. What can I say? Bleueueueueueuueuegh!
You! Mr Sports Director of the local sports centre! Yes, I'm talking to YOU! When you have 16 girls aged 6 or 7 signed up for soccer, can't you SEE that it doesn't make sense to run a league? You are insisting on having 4 teams with 4 players in each. I have, politely and nicely, discussed with you on the phone how this isn't going to make for a successful experience. Kids get ill. Kids have other commitments at week-ends. Families have other priorities (well, some do). So sometimes there will be a team of 3 players or even 2 players. Can't you agree with me (and my daughter's team coach) that it would make a whole lot more sense to get the 16 girls together one evening a week, do training all together, split them into two teams, and play a game there and then. That way, we don't all have to trek out twice a week. That way, they will get a game, rather than turn out, only to find that the game is cancelled because not enough players have shown up. Four kids is not enough kids for five-a-side soccer. That isn't rocket science. I know you love leagues. I know you love competitive play. I know this is thinking outside the box in a very challenging and enormous way for you. But please, please, can't we just try my suggestion? Just once? You never know... it might work well. If it doesn't, then you can go back to your competitive league, where the coach is king, and picture day happens, and we end up with a winning team which gets a trophy, and runners up who get medals. But just this once, couldn't you just think a little sideyways?
Next rant point. Doughnuts are NOT breakfast food. Luckily, none of my children have breakfast at school. I see you have cereal and fruit on the menu, but I wouldn't trust my children not to go for the doughnuts. I wouldn't. Nor the 'strawberry toaster pastry'. I have to put that in quotation marks. Sorry. I just do.
And on the subject of school food, please don't make my 6 year old stand in the lunch line (what am I saying? the lunch QUEUE QUEUE QUEUE!) for half the allotted time, and then make her tip half her food in the trash because there isn't enough time left to eat it. Please. That one isn't rocket science either.
Bleueueueueueuegh. I had other things to say, but I just hit publish by mistake, so let's call it a day. A bleueueueueueueueueugh day.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Perspective
It's all a matter of perspective. That's part of the whole "Not wrong, just different" approach to life. We used to think it was a long journey to see family: 4 hours to the nearest. We now think of that as a short hop. Four hours would hardly get us out of our state in most directions.
Living outside your own zone makes you realise how relative many of your absolutes actually are. What seemed like fact, becomes opinion. I overheard this telephone conversation between 11-yo and his grandmother. She had asked what sports he was playing at school at the moment, and it turns out they have been learning baseball (which I thought was a summer sport, and an outdoor one, but there you go). He said
"It's really hard. The bat is round, so the ball flies off in any direction, and they pitch it at you so fast. And the rules are so complicated. I like playing sports which have simple rules. Like cricket."
Yes, I thought that would amuse you. All a matter of perspective, you see.
Living outside your own zone makes you realise how relative many of your absolutes actually are. What seemed like fact, becomes opinion. I overheard this telephone conversation between 11-yo and his grandmother. She had asked what sports he was playing at school at the moment, and it turns out they have been learning baseball (which I thought was a summer sport, and an outdoor one, but there you go). He said
"It's really hard. The bat is round, so the ball flies off in any direction, and they pitch it at you so fast. And the rules are so complicated. I like playing sports which have simple rules. Like cricket."
Yes, I thought that would amuse you. All a matter of perspective, you see.
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