Pardon me

As I've lived in the UK for quite some time now, I'm pretty thoroughly fluent in Ameringlish. That doesn't mean that I am a convert and use the British word. I've transitioned on some, but there are many language changes that I can't bring myself to make.

I call is a diaper and not a nappy 99.9% of the time.
I still say ZEE-bra and not ZEB-ra (which starts with a letter ZEE not a ZED).
I say garbage can, rather than rubbish bin most of the time.
I will always say "y'all".
I ride the elevator not the lift.
Sometimes I queue, but usually I get in line.

Consequently, I worry that Linus will end up confused about how things should be said and what things are called. As he gets older and starts school, I know that he'll be inundated with the British way of saying things and will probably defect. (Except for using y'all. I'll insist on that.) I'm mostly ok with using different words and figure that Linus will work it out for himself. He's a smart kid. He doesn't get confused when Ross and I say things differently. After all, they say it's good for kids to learn different languages at a young age. That surely applied to two versions of the same language, right?

There is one area, so far, that I've consciously made the effort to switch to a British way of saying something. It is only in making the switch that I've realized how very often I used to say "huh?" or "what?" or even "excuse me?".  In England, the accepted polite way of asking for clarification or repetition of something you haven't quite heard is "Pardon?"

Initially this felt and sounded super-awkward to my ears. All I could think about was this old commercial.

I decided to make the switch because, though I don't object to Linus being considered weird for using a different word- I do object to him being viewed as rude. So that's where I've drawn my personal line in the verbal sand.

If I can use the word that feels most authentic and natural to me, I will. If it's a question of manners or being offensive, I'll make the change.

How do you decide what words to adopt?

99p worth of home

Every Expat knows that there are little things from back home that you really miss. Those things that you took for granted, but now can't find.

I'm talking to you Target Long & Lean Tank Tops*.

my favourite layering piece

There are alternatives, sure, but the known item that fits/works just how you like it isn't available. 

Well- Hark, Expats, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy. One of those can't-get-them-here items can come off your list.

What am I talking about?

My favourite cleaning product

Well, not exactly. After years of trying various imposters (I'm looking at you Doktor Power Magic Eraser) that were found severely lacking and asking my mom to bring some when she visits, I stumbled upon this little item at the grocery store last week.

Can it be?!

My breath caught. Could it really be? It looked promising. I bought my single eraser for 99p (a fine price, but it was market 1/2 off and 1.99 seems a bit steep) and rushed home to try it. And, Hallelujah! This is it! 99p worth of home to clean my bathroom and kitchen!

What little things do you miss from back home?

Have you found any acceptable substitutes for your favorites?

*Let's be honest, I pretty much miss everything about Target. Y'all know I'm slightly obsessed.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving, even though I am not in the United States, I am thankful.

I admit that, most of the time, I am able to ignore my homesickness through a sheer force of will. I love my life here in Manchester. My husband and my son are my favorite people to be with in the world. Yesterday morning however, I was hit hard with longing. Longing for my family and for the familiar traditions, food, and noise of Thanksgiving in San Antonio. I worried that I wouldn't make it through the Skype session we'd arranged without bursting into tears. By the time it was skype-o-clock, I was feeling better and had procured the ingredients to make a pumpkin pie. (Did you know that it's really hard to find a pie tin in the UK? By really hard, I mean neither of the 2 grocery stores in our area had any.)

So here is where I will tell you things I'm thankful for:

I'm thankful for my son and my husband. I simply adore them. They are both kind and clever and beautiful and funny. Every day I am happy to be theirs.

I'm thankful for my parents. They are so loving and supportive. They are also so understanding. I know they hate (HATE!) the distance between us- especially now that Linus is around. And I do too. However, I have the joy of my marriage and son to make up for it. They have to wait for our all too infrequent visits. They are such wonderful parents and grandparents. We are all so very lucky to have them.

The biggest thing that I was thankful for yesterday, though, was this:

I'm thankful technology and that my G'ma doesn't really understand it. We connected to my family before they sat down to dinner on my brother's iPad. When my beloved G'ma was handed the iPad, we spoke briefly and she got to talk to her first-born great grandson. I didn't, however get to hear whatever she tearfully said to us after that. I think this is a very good thing as I likely wouldn't have been able to keep it together. Instead, I had a good laugh as I played charades to let them know I couldn't hear and the iPad was passed back to my brother to fix. We got passed around the kitchen of my Aunt and Uncle's bustling house and said hello to everyone. Linus sang some songs and met his cousin Wyatt. We were introduced to my cousin's fiance- a lovely girl. The laughter and noise and hub-bub of preparation almost made me feel like we were there for those brief moments. And it was wonderful.

Today, I made my pumpkin pie. In a loose-bottomed flan tin because that's what I had. And it was good. And for that, I'm thankful.

Mama

I've mentioned in the past that Linus was... slow... to jump on the Mama train.

He'd happily share a hat. Er, plastic tub.

My darling boy certainly loved me, but he just wasn't eager to name me. He had "Dada" down for a long time before he ever uttered the word "Mama" in reference to me. Heck, he even had Grandma and Grandpa. He was obsessed with Jack, the little blond boy in Mr. Daydream after a single reading- proclaiming "Jack!" and pointing with delight.

A look of love

I started to think that the problem was that he didn't understand that he and I were separate people. We spend nearly all our time together and it seemed to jive with his confusion regarding why I needed a name. That theory made me feel warm and fuzzy while I waited to hear the sweet sound of "Mama". I still think it was true.

Suddenly, one day, he got the hang of it. Now it's a constant refrain. This morning on the tram, he was introducing me to the packed car of people. Pointing over his shoulder to where I stood at the handlebar of his stroller and proudly proclaiming "Mama!" to all his new friends. I love it. I love the sound of that repeated syllable. 

As and expat, I treasure "Mama" even more. All of Linus' friends have long-since moved on from the initial sounds to the standard "Mummy". I'm a unique amongst a sea of mummies. I am Mama, hear me roar. I really hope he sticks with it for a long time. I know that most likely, he'll eventually switch to Mummy. He's bound to hear it and adopt it once he goes to school. Heck, he already hears it from Daddy. So for now, I'll treasure these days of being Mama.

All this intro to say that there's a new development. Linus loves to look at pictures of both Ross and me. He gleefully identifies us. In the last week, though, he's has gone a bit Mama-crazy. The following are pictures he has pointed to and said "Mama".

This one was first. The lady on the box of Tyrrell's Crisps. I was less than flattered.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, my coat did look similar. And she's wearing a hat. I like hats.

The bill painter at the rubber duck factory in Ten Little Rubber Ducks by Eric Carle.

Slightly more flattering.

Janice on this poster from The Muppets. Ok. I can handle that.

Then Scooter. Sigh.

The (evil?) queen on Linus' alphabet puzzle.

At least she's pretty.

I wonder what's next.

Any one else have a child with a slightly adventurous opinion of what "Mama" looks like?

Stages of Expat-dom

Every expat certainly hits several milestones in their journey. There are those firsts- firsts that let you know you're really not at home any more. And then they let you know that you're starting to consider this new place home. The two kinds of moments don't transition seamlessly from one kind to the other. They blend and overlap.

There's the first time you buy new toiletries and realize that you can't get your trusted deodorant/moisturiser/razor. There's the first time you need some new clothes and you want to cry because you can't wrap your head around the fact that you have to go up 2 sizes in England. (Not that you are actually bigger, but that doesn't matter to your irrational brain that is tied to the number of your American size.)

There's the time that you realized you looked right at a crosswalk, rather than left without even thinking about it. There are those times when you stumble over your words because your brain can't keep straight the American and British word choices. You can't figure out the right way to say it and then end up saying something that is a bizarre mix of the two that would make sense to neither an American or a Brit. Awesome!

There's the time your Mom asks is a phrase you used was British and your answer is "huh... well, if you didn't understand it, then it must be..." Then there's the time that you hear yourself say something and cringe. The other day, I had one of those moments. I was on the phone with someone and they asked if the number I had called from was the best number to reach me at. I heard myself reply, "Yes, it's my mobile". And not just mobile like I would normally say it (mo-bull). No, I said moBILE.

cringe

I heard it as it was coming out of my mouth. I even said "Oh my god. I can't believe I just said that. Who am I?" as soon as I said it. It was horrifying and hilarious. It was possibly my biggest milestone yet. I think I have to accept that my G'ma is right. I'm starting to sound a little bit British. (I'd always maintained that this was ridiculous and she's just going deaf.)

I'll tell you something, though. It's an expat milestone that has me surprisingly flustered. It demonstrates that I'm not fully entrenched in my new culture. I need new underwear. I've never bought underwear in England. There's no Target (my go-to underwear spot). The sizes are different. It's not that big a deal. I'm sure they have something at M&S that would be just fine, and yet... I'm dragging my feet. Perhaps I'm displaying my patriotism through my undergarments? Who knows.

What have your expat milestones been?

Did you experience any strange hang-ups that surprised you?

It's about the egg cup...

There are many times in my relationship with Ross where I've asked a variation of this question:

"Is that because you're British, or because you're you?"

Something happens, or he says something, and I wonder- is his reaction/answer weird to me because of our cultural differences, or because he's a weird guy. (A wonderful, kooky, lovely, weird guy.) Sometimes, he's not sure. Then I have to ask my friends about it so they can tell me if it's a cultural thing or a Ross thing.

And now, an example.

Are you familiar with egg cups? If you are British, the answer is "Certainly!". I'm not sure any more, but I don't think I'd ever heard of one before moving to the UK. They go crazy for them here.

standard issue egg cup

There are cute ones, funny ones, personalized ones, fancy ones. They are often sold in gift sets. There even exists such a thing as an egg cozy. You know, to keep your egg warm in the brief period of time between when goes into the egg cup and when you eat it.

Get a whole book about them!

Anyway. I get that they are a British staple. I get that they are commonly used- a standard English breakfast food is Eggs & Soldiers. I think I might have used one a couple of times. Ross uses one maybe once a month.

The thing is... we have at least 11. And that's just ones I can think of off the top of my head. Because they're visible in my kitchen without opening any cabinets or digging around. So there are probably more squirrelled away in the recesses of our flat. ELEVEN! For 2 people.

Why? Is this a British thing? To have more egg cups than your household needs? To have several sets of different designs and styles? Or is it just because my husband's family is weird? And likes egg cups to an excessive extent?

In closing, I present a clip from one of my favorite episodes of one of my favorite British sitcoms. It's long, but there's no good way to explain the title of this post without watching quite a bit.

FYI. It's not about the egg cup. 

Is there anything that you randomly have a lot of? Please, tell me I'm not alone.

Words

Because I believe that words have power, I think a lot about what I say to Linus. For many months I've said the same thing to Linus as I put him down for naps and night sleep. The words came spontaneously and remained unaltered for many months.

"You are sweet and smart and beautiful and funny. Mommy and Daddy love you. Grandma and Grandpa love you. You'll go to sleep and have sweet dreams and when you wake up, we'll have a wonderful afternoon/day."

I believe that the words he hears and the intent behind them will soak into his soul. I want him to have these words written on his heart, so he can carry them with him all his life. I believe it is my job as his mother to lay the foundations of self esteem and that, even this small speech, whispered lovingly into his ear every day, will help him.

To that effect, I started thinking about the words I was saying. I decided to amend two of my words. I decided that, while he is sweet, KIND is the word I'd like to steep him in. "You are kind" became the beginning of my sleepy time speech. Sweet is nice. It makes others smile. But- it feels more surface. Like a veneer of sugar. Kind is nice and makes others smile, but it can be revolutionary in a way that sweetness cannot. A small act of true kindness can change lives. I hope that Linus will have a kind spirit.

The other change I made was prompted by an article a friend shared on Facebook. I started to think about the implications of telling Linus that he his smart. The article made me think. It made me think about the fact that, here in Britain, babies and small children are most often praised for being clever.

Smart. Clever. At first glance, it might just seem to be one of the hundreds of instances where the two cultures have differing preferences for similar words. The more I thought about it, however, I came to believe that there's more to it than that. There is a deep-rooted difference in cultural attitudes in the US and the UK. The US is shiny and new. It is confident, loud and brash. It is full of people who would hold up flashing neon signs proclaiming that they are the greatest thing since sliced bread. And increasingly, children who's parents are willing to spend all their time and energy holding up their signs for them. The UK is ancient and staid. It is self-deprecating and stoic. It's people love to complain, but are also famous for their ability to suck it up and quietly do what needs to be done without a show or expecting of praise. Their is even an unspoken mindset that is isn't done to be too striving or self-confident, or flashy.

I thought about the two words and how they are different. In some subtle way, they are each completely reflecting of their respective cultures. Smart is something that you are- without trying, without doing anything to earn. You are smart because you are smart. Your brain is uniquely, inherently superior. Clever, on the other hand, has a subtle implication of more than that. A clever person doesn't just know the answer. They are intelligent enough to work to figure it out. And I like that. I like the idea of instilling in Linus the confidence that he has the resources to figure things out. That he can work hard and exercise his beautiful mind. That his natural-born abilities are not all he has. He has the resourcefulness to reach beyond himself. Does that make sense? It may just be reading too much into a word, but it rings true with me.

And so, I decided to alter half of my words. I take no issue with the other two. Beautiful is exactly what he is. He is beautiful of body and spirit. His very creation is beautiful, regardless of the (admittedly stunning) package. And funny. He's just so, so funny. Which is important. Terribly important.

So I now tell him that he is: kind, clever, beautiful, funny. Because he is. And he always will be. And it's important that he knows it. And so I tell him.

Do you see a difference between smart and clever?
What words do you want to wrap your loved ones in?

By/With

To start, a side story:

When I was in high school I was a theatre kid. I remember one day, my friends and I were hanging out on stage during a rehearsal and talking about one of the other girls (in that stupid high school way). Specifically, her unhealthy fixation on one of the older boys. Her crush was huge and embarrassingly obvious to everyone. It was beyond awkward the way she would fawn over this guy. As is want to happen, the girl walked up to our group to join the conversation. We all fell quiet and tried to act natural. (Like you do when you've just been busted talking about someone.) She greeted us and asked what we were talking about. Without missing a beat, one of the boys simply replied "Calvin Klein". It was pure genius. It impressed me so much and still amuses me to no end.

Get your own obsession.

Now the real point of this post is to tell you that, here in the UK, people are "obsessed BY" things. I'm used to being "obsessed WITH" stuff. Every time I hear it, it sounds strange to my ear, but it got me thinking. Isn't "by" actually just as, if not more, appropriate. In most cases, the thing that obsesses you isn't actually affected by your obsession. The WITH implies that there is some sort of mutual relationship. If I'm "totally obsessed with prosciutto, metallic ballet flats, or even Claudia Winkleman"- this food item/shoe/celebrity is completely unaffected by me and my obsession. In this case, I think I agree that "by" makes more sense. I'm am the object of enthralment. The object of my obsession is not "in" the obession "with" me at all!

That said, I don't imagine I'll be able to change my natural programming to say "by". And I reserve the right to freely say that I'm obsessed with my son and husband and their cuteness because that is a relationship. I like to think they're obessed right back.

What are your favourite obsessions?

The Cow Says "Moo"

The iconic See n' Say. (Which apparently wasn't popular in the UK.)

Today when I was hanging out with some of my friends, one of them asked me if the animal noises in the US were different. At first it seems a silly question, but at the time, she entertaining her son with an owl puppet. Do you know what the owl said? It said "tweet, twoo". Yep. Not "who, who" or even "hoot".

Now, I first became aware of this difference via a bib that Linus has.

Sorry, for the stained bib, but-well- it does it's job.

I hadn't really thought anything off this bib, until I heard Clare making owl noises in the same manner. When I replied that, in America, owls say "Who", or possibly "Hoot" my friends were as surprised as I was by this "tweet twoo" business. 

As for other differences, I could only come up with a few. In England, dogs don't say "Bow Wow". They only say "ruff ruff". Both might be used in the US. I later asked Ross, about other differences later. We established many are the same. The only other one we came up with is that a British chicken would never say "buck, buck, buck".  It would only "cluck". 

A non-animal related one I've noticed is "Nee nor" or "Nee naw". Anyone know what that is? 

I'll give you a hint.

Pull over!

Fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances all say "nee nor" or "nee naw". In fact, children often refer to vehicles with sirens and flashing lights as Nee Nors/Naws. It makes just as much sense as (and is more easily spelled than) the American "Weee Ooooo". 

I'm sure there are other differences in what things "say".

Ross' favourite is that, in France, roosters say "Kokorico!"

What are your favourite onomatopoeic sounds? 

A 3 hour tour

Every once in a while I still come across a cultural reference that doesn't translate. It doesn't happen often, but now that I've made some friends it's happening more often. Ross' knowledge base isn't necessarily typical of a British person- especially of his age, so now that I'm regularly conversing with other people I find that it's a whole new world.

The other day I was at the park with a group of my mom friends having a little picnic. One of the boys had a very cute bucket hat on. Sort of like this:

As all babies and the blissfully mentally unburdened do, he had a look of carefree cheer on his sweet face. I took one look at him and proclaimed that he looked like Gilligan. 

Bob Denver as Gilligan

His mother looked at me and replied that she didn't know what I was talking about. "Gilligan? Gilligan's Island?" I queried. Nope. I turned to the rest of the group and asked, sure that Clare must just be lacking this info through some sort of bizarre blip. Blank looks all around.

My mouth fell open and I spluttered in disbelief. Even my rousing rendition of the iconic theme tune did nothing but tinge their blank looks with bemusement. 

Not as good as my version...

It just blows my mind that such huge cultural references like this are completely lost on a large chunk of the population and that there are equally large gaps in my knowledge from the other view point.

What's the biggest clunker of a cultural reference you've ever dropped on a group?

Half time

There's a little cultural difference that I've never blogged about, but always throws me a tiny bit. Well, it threw me a lot when I first moved here.  It has to do with time. How hard can that be, right? I mean time is time! Well, yes. And no.

No. Not that Time.

I know it's because I have a tendency to over-think/complicate things sometimes. I'll give you a sample conversation.

Me: Remind me. What time is the plumber coming tomorrow?

Ross: Half Ten.

Me: (thinking, not aloud) Wait. Does that mean 9:30 or 10:30? I think it's 9:30. Right? Because it's half way to 10. Right? Wait. Half ten would be 5:00 so that can't be right. (out loud) ...10:30?

Ross nods.

This repeatedly confused me for WAY longer than I should admit. I know now what it means. And only second guess myself very infrequently. But it's definitely an interesting difference. I've never heard a British person say "thirty" as part of the time. It's always "half". I wonder why that is...

Any guesses?

Visions of Grocers

Yesterday I was visiting with some of my new mom friends (holla Jess, Suzy, and Clare!) and we were talking about the difference between customer service in the US and UK. I said that I'd love to train retail and restaurant workers on proper customer service. Waitstaff who never check on you or act put out if you want a refill of your water irritate me. The people who stand at the entrance of Next (a department store) drive me bonkers. I assume they are meant to be "greeters" a post I filled often when I worked in retail. In the US, this person cheerfully welcomes people to the store, informs them of any sales and encourages them to ask for help if it's needed. In the UK, however, it seems that this person is meant to awkwardly and pointlessly hover by the entrance. From time to time they may shyly make eye contact and tentatively smile. The very bold ones might mumble something about "Do you receive the catalogue?" as you walk past. It seems an utterly pointless thing to have a staff member do if they aren't actually going to do anything.  (Oops.  Are my crazies showing? I think so.)

At any rate, I was relating a story about when Ross and I were dating and he'd come visit me in Dallas.  My apartment was in walking distance to a Tom Thumb.

Not this one, but one a lot like it.

While I was at work, Ross would work from my apartment and often walk to the store and buy some food. Often times, he would actually cook dinner for me too. He's a keeper! Very early on, we went to the store together and all of the employees made eye contact and said "Hello".  Many asked how we were doing or wished us a nice day. Ross leaned over and whispered to me "Do you know them?" I laughed, confused why he was so bewildered.  After living in the UK for over 2 years now, I get it.  

After telling this story, one of my friends said that they loved that I call it a "grocery store". I paused, caught off-guard, never having thought to call it anything else. I asked what I should be calling it. She declared that I should never stop calling it that because it made her envision me shopping at a quaint little shop served by men in striped aprons, surrounded by fresh fruit and veg. I started to correct her, but she cheerfully insisted that I not ruin her illusion. There are some that are a bit like that. Central Market and Whole Foods are the best grocery stores known to man, even they don't quite fit that image. In my experience, American grocery stores and British supermarkets are pretty similar. 

I learned afterwards that someone in the UK would call it a "supermarket", though most often I find that people say the name of the actual store they are going to (Morrison's, Sainsbury, Tesco, Asda, etc.). Ross and I were discussing that "supermarket" is actually an American term, but it's not one that I would ever think of using in the sentence "I'm going to the supermarket later to pick up some bananas".  It strikes my ear strangely. Just, I'm sure, in the way that "grocery store" strikes the ears of my British friends. I don't find it strange to think of a store a supermarket, but to actually refer to it as one is another story. 

I think Clare is safe as I can't imagine calling it anything but a grocery store... If you need me I'll be spreading false images of the American grocery shopping.

Wait, what would a British person say instead of "I have to do the grocery shopping?" or "Tonight I'm shopping for groceries?"?
I just asked Ross and he wasn't able to offer any clarity...
Would it be something like "doing the weekly shop"?
I don't think I'll ever stop coming across these little fun idosyncracies! Isn't learning about a new culture fun!?

It's The Pitts

I haven't ever talked about this before, but there is one huge difference between life in the US and the UK that I totally wasn't expecting. Brace yourselves. It's a big one.

Are you ready?

Deodorant is different here.

BOOM!  Explosive and mind-blowing, right?

In the States, I'd used a soft-solid style for years. I'd rotate between Secret, Dove, Degree.  Usually whatever was on sale, but always a soft solid. Most of my friends used this type too. It seemed like a given. Standard.

My Old Favorite

Then, I ran out of the one I had when I moved here and went shopping. I looked on the aisle and found this.

(Well, almost this.  I took this picture today, so there's one minor difference.)

Shock! Gasp!

Here's a photoshopped version to make things more clear.

Red= Spray

Blue= Roll-on

Yellow= Body spray

Black= the stuff that didn't used to be there

Not a soft solid, or even solid-solid (the pre-soft-solid US standard) to be found. Here, it seems that the only options were a handful of roll-ons and a majority of sprays. I don't know anyone that wears spray deodorant in America, but it is clearly the hands-down favorite 'round these parts.

And so, I joined the ranks of spray-deodorant-wearing people.  I found I actually didn't hate it.  It's quite nice actually.  But then something exciting happened a few weeks ago.  I saw an add for this:

New stuff

A television add for my old favorite brand and style of deodorant.  It's called something different (Maximum Protection) and it doesn't mention the words "soft solid" anywhere, but it is.  I'm not sure what changed and why soft-solid deodorant is now available in the UK.  Anyone know?  It's not a wide range.  Dove seems to be the only brand doing it, and it's only the clinical strength kind.  I'm wondering if other brands will follow suit or if this will remain a sort of one off. So that's what's behind the black box in the photoshopped picture.  A shelf of Dove soft-solid deodorant.

And you know what, I've even bought new deodorant since it was introduced and it wasn't this stuff.  It was this:

I think I'm a convert

Victory vs. Honour

We've been watching some of the Olympics coverage...
Not a ton, but random bits here and there.  There's coverage on all day long, so I'll put it on when I'm feeding Linus or we'll watch some in the evening.  The only thing I really got into was the Men's Gold Medal Tennis match.  Hooray Andy!  What a match!

So gorgeous!

I have a few observations about the coverage.  One is that it seems to me that the British coverage involves far more actual coverage of the sports, rather than endless puff pieces on the athletes meant to inspire me.  Maybe I'm just watching at the wrong times, but it definitely seems to be better coverage.  Not that they are immune to the occasional gaffe.  I heard a commentator proclaim that a competitor had "celebrated a birthday just a few short years ago".  I'm fairly confident that she meant days or weeks, but she totally said years. Hahaha!

The biggest difference I've noticed, however, is that when competitors in track and field or cycling events wins they often take an extra celebratory lap.  That's not unusual, but I noticed that this practice is called something different here!  I'd always known this as a "Victory Lap".  Here in the UK, it is referred to as a "Lap of Honour".  I think this difference is pretty interesting and actually says something about the difference in the cultures.  In America, the emphasis is on the victory.  The dominance.  The superiority.  In England, it's the pride and honour brought to the person. and thus their country, for having achieved something amazing.  It's a subtle difference, but it makes sense in my head.  Almost like the American way is about showing off and the British way is about acknowledging the crowd.  It's totally semantic and contains broad generalizations and stereotype.  Oh, well.  It's a true fact that British people don't like to show boat like Americans do.  It's considered fairly egregiously distasteful.  So maybe I'm not reaching on this as much as it seems.  I think there is an actual difference between a Lap of Honour and a Victory Lap.

What do you think?

What's been your fav moment of the Olympics so far?

Nursery Rhymes Again

I already talked about Nursery Rhymes once.  Let's do it again!

Let's start with the one that Reader Michelle commented about.  I'm not sure whether to call in by it's British name, or it's American one.  I'm talking about "Ring a Ring of Roses" or "Ring Around the Rosie".  In addition to the name/first line of the song being different, as Michelle noted, the final line varies by country.  I grew up with "Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!", but Ross knows it as "A tissue, a tissue, we all fall down!"  Either way, the song is strangely morbid and about the plague, right?  I'm not sure the reason for the difference... Anyone know?

Another tiny difference is a rhyme about a spider.  The Itsy Bitsy Spider to me, is The Eensy Weensy Spider here.

This picture doesn't really have anything to do with this post,

but all posts need a picture and my baby and his toes are adorable.

You're welcome.

The next one confuses me every time we go to Rhythm Time.  "The Farmer in the Dell" is a classic childhood song.  The first time we sang it at Rhythm Time we got to the final line and I realized that the leader was saying something completely different than me.  I was saying, as I'd learned, "Hi-ho the derry-oh".  I leaned over to a dad who was attending the group with his son.  I know his wife, but hadn't met him prior to this session.  I asked him what she was saying.  He looked at me, confused.  I explained that I didn't understand the words she was saying at the end.  He still seemed confused.  I clarified that we say "Hi-ho the derry-oh" in America.  He paused and said, "I wouldn't worry about it.  They're just nonsense words."  Now it was my turn to look confused.  I said, "Well, yes, but I want to say the RIGHT nonsense words."  He remained confused and I let it go and just went back to singing- straining extra hard when we got to the line in question, trying to figure out what words I should be saying.

I asked Ross when he got home that evening.  He said that, here it's "Ee-i, adio".  Alright then!  Progress.  But guess what?  I looked it up on Wikipedia and learned that the line depends on where in England you are.  Apparently Londoners say "Ee-i, tiddly-i" and those in the West Country say "Ee-i, Ee-i".

So there you go.  Some more interesting (at least to me, and hopefully to you) differences in the way we sing to our kiddos.
Anyone know any other differences in nursery rhymes?

Sick

It isn't often any more that I get tripped up by word meaning differences, but the other day I had the following conversation.

First, let me set the scene:

Ross and I took our nephew to Katsouri's for lunch.  Katsouri's is a very tasty deli in Manchester (there's also one in Bury) that we like to frequent.  We'd go in for lunch maybe once a week when I was pregnant and have been in once since Linus arrived.  There's one lady in particular who usually takes our order and was very excited when we brought Linus in and made a big fuss over him.  The deli is pretty tightly packed at lunch time with not much room to manoeuvre a stroller, so I was wearing Linus.

We arrived and were standing by the refrigerator case picking out our freshly made sandwiches.  (Side note: I recommend The Olympus [hummus, feta, grilled peppers, olives, lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers] or the Bacon, Brie and Cranberry [those things plus lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers].  Delicious!!)  The woman came rushing over to say hello with a big smile on her face.  She coo-ed over Linus' adorableness and how sweet he looked in his sling.

Woman:  He's been sick.

Me:  No.  He's been fine.

Woman:  (looking confused) No.  He's been sick.

Me:  (even more confused) No.  We've been fine.  Just haven't been in for awhile.

Woman:  (so confused, firmly) He has.  He's been sick!

I finally look down and see some spit up on Linus' shirt.  The woman hadn't been telling me that we hadn't been in because Linus had had a cold or something.  She was telling me that he'd spit up.  I forgot that "sick" here means vomit.  As in "Oops.  You've got some sick in your hair!"  The way Americans use sick is usually called "ill" here.  So if you say to a Brit "I feel sick", don't be surprised if they hand you a trash can.  

Anyway... we had a nice laugh when I explained my confusion and then I grabbed a rag and cleaned Linus' shirt.  Then I ate a tasty Bacon, Brie and Cranberry sandwich, a few olives, and split a caramel chocolate square with my nephew.

The end.

Moaning

"Visitors to Britain are rarely able to grasp - sometimes even after decades of residency - the vital distinction its inhabitants make between complaining and moaning.  The two activities seem similar, but there is a profound philosophical and practical difference.  To complain about something is to express dissatisfaction to someone whom you hold responsible for an unsatisfactory state of affairs; to moan is to express the same thing to someone other than the person responsible.  The British are powerfully embarrassed by complaining... They do love to moan, though... Moaning, a source of entertainment in its own right, is also an important psychic blanket, a way of venting resentment without taking responsibility for effecting change."
- John Lanchester, "Letter from London: Party Games," The New Yorker

another word for moaning

I came across this quote thanks to blogger Betsy Transatlantically.  I cannot tell you how interesting I found it.  Mostly, it makes me laugh because my family has a running joke about how my brother likes to moan about things.  (Apparently Matt would fit in well here!)

I have to agree with Betsy's take on it (which I guess make us both stereo-typically American), in that moaning is irritating to me.  It isn't productive.  It gets you nowhere.   And, in my opinion, seems meaner.  I know many people would disagree with me and say that it is rude to complain and make a fuss.  While I agree that there is a rude way to complain, there is also a constructive and appropriate way to complain.  Constructive criticism promotes forward motion and is often the only way to improve things.  If people only moan (also known as "talking behind someone's back"), no one in a position to make the situation better knows there is a problem!

There is a place for a nice moan.  Whining can be a bonding thing.  It can release tension or help you feel better about a situation where you know that change is unlikely and/or complaining is futile.  Sometimes I'm able to diffuse a situation by vocally blaming my complaining on being American.  It tends to make people laugh if you call yourself out for conforming to a stereotype.

I don't think that word means what you think it means

I had to laugh the other day when we were at the grocery store and I saw this:

These watermelons were slightly larger than canteloupes.  I don't know that I've ever seen a watermelon that small in Texas... never mind calling them giant!  

Isn't it funny the difference in perception based on what you're used to?  Here, these truly are giant watermelons (and shockingly uniform in size and shape!).  I've never seen any bigger.  In the US, I don't know that I've ever seen one this small.  

Makes me wonder what causes this difference... Anyone know?

Maybe climate? 

Rabbit on.

Spurred by reader Michelle's comment on my last post, I decided to devote a couple of posts to children's songs in the US and UK.

I mentioned that we've been going to Rhythm Time where we sing a variety of songs with the babies.  We shake maracas and tambourines.  We bounce and dance and act silly.  It's pretty fun.  Linus is liking it more and more each week.  Sometimes he ends up eating the whole time instead of participating, but I figure the exposure to music is good for him regardless.  He's still not a big fan of when the drums get banged too loudly.  I'm not a big fan of loud noises, so perhaps he gets that from me.  We also sing songs and do movements at Baby Yoga, which I think Linus prefers for it's more mellow vibe.

Linus shaking his maraca.

One song that we sing at yoga is new to me.  It's called "Run Rabbit Run", and it goes:

Run, rabbit.  Run, rabbit.

Run, run, run.

Don't let the Farmer get his

Gun, gun, gun.

He'll get by without his rabbit pie.

So, Run, rabbit.  Run, rabbit.

Run, run, run.

We generally sing it while we're moving the babies' legs in a running motion, which is supposed to be good for digestion and releasing gas.  The yoga teacher told us a story the other day about how she'd recently done a Baby Yoga workshop at a conference and got in trouble for using this song because the organizers felt it was insensitive to the large number of vegetarians present.  I pointed out that it could actually be construed as pro-vegetarian as it encourages the rabbit to elude the Farmer!  What could be more veg-friendly!? :)  In reality this song is about World War 2 and is meant to poke fun at the Germans.  How very political!

On a note unrelated to singing, do you know what it means if someone says "Oh, she does rabbit on"?  It could easily be applied to me and my penchant for verbosity.  It means "she sure talks incessantly".  Word is that it's cockney rhyming slang-  "Rabbit and Pork" -> pork rhymes with talk (if you use a cockney accent, though I think it's a stretch).  So to "rabbit" means to "talk".  I prefer to think about it as how rabbits are known for going at it like, well, rabbits and that somehow relates to the speed of the chatter... or something...

Good conclusion, Meg.  "Or something"...  Yep, that's how I roll.

Fire Fire!

Yesterday at Tummies and Tinies (the mommy group that I go to on Wednesday mornings) they had a Fire Safety Officer (FSO) there to talk to us about... well... fire safety.  I think we would have all preferred to be left to our own devices and had a nice chat while we played with our kids, but we dutifully listened to the woman's presentation.

Babies Everywhere!

(A different day at Tummies and Tinies)

She went over basic fire safety topics and told us about the top fire hazards in the home.  I can't say that I learned anything earth-shattering, but it's nice to have a refresher on safety issues from time to time- especially now that there's a baby in the house, we want to be on top of things!  

At one point in her talk, the woman told us about a woman who's young daughter's nightgown caught on fire.  She said that the woman had picked up her daughter and run with her to the bathroom, put her in the tub and run the water over her to put the fire out.  The daughter ended up with burns on over 50% of her body.  The FSO asked what the mother should have done instead.  There was a brief pause in the room.  You know the kind.  When a room full of only semi-interested adults are waiting to see if someone else will call out the answer.  

I proudly called out "Stop, drop, and roll!"  The FSO looked at me with vague surprise in her eyes and said "Yes.  That's right."  The other mothers turned to look at me with interest on their faces.  I queried, "Do they not teach that here?"  The FSO explained that they teach the concept of smothering the fire, but not the key phase of "Stop, drop, and roll" that is so ubiquitous in childhood safety education in The States.  One of my friends said that she'd forgotten that was what you should do, but confirmed that she had been taught it in the past.  She was impressed with my little catch phrase and softly repeated it to herself saying "I'm going to use that!"  I thought it was so funny that something so ingrained in me was totally novel to this room full of people!  

It reminds me, yet again, of all those tiny little differences between cultures.  The sayings that aren't common to both societies.  Like in America it's "Buckle up for safety", whilst in the UK it's "Clunk, click, every trip".  It still happens every once in a while that Ross or I will say something and the other will be baffled as to what they mean.  It keeps things fresh. ;)

As a fire related sidenote:  At the music group that we go to on Tuesdays we sing different nursery rhyme songs.  Most of them are familiar to me, but the first week one came along that I'd never heard before.  It goes:

London's burning.  London's burning.

Fetch the engines.  Fetch the engines.

Fire, fire!  Fire, fire!

Pour on water.  Pour on water.

The group's leader could tell that I didn't know the song by the look on my face and said that I'd have to bring in an "American" nursery rhyme to teach the group.  I still haven't been able to think of any that don't have UK roots.  Isn't it funny that nursery rhymes are all so old and no new ones have really caught on?

What catch phrases do you know that don't occur in both cultures?

Do you know any "American" nursery rhymes?