So much to talk about, so little time.
No, really.
I cannot seem to dislodge my head from my arse. I am ridiculously busy with work these days. I just don't understand why every now and again, things can't run just a bit more smoothly in my line of work. Why does everything have to be a mini crisis?
The stress of it all makes my bed call to me like a siren in the middle of the afternoon with all it's warm Egyptian cotton and down filled goodness....
I digress.
I'm freezing, which doesn't help to quell the allure of my electric blanketed bed. We are firmly in New Zealand's autumn which is a lot like dealing with a crazy person. One minute the temperatures are up and the next, they are way down. It can pour with rain, blast wind in a million directions and a present a blinding sun, all in a single afternoon. There is an art to layering clothing here. I've learned all about thin, soft, merino wool undergarments, polyprop shirts and serious rain gear. I am the proud owner of a pair of fire engine red gum boots.
Last week, I accompanied Olivia to her school camp southwest of Auckland in a town called Raglan. Up to that point, the weather had been GORGEOUS. We'd had five or six weeks with warm, sunny days. People were so polite and considerate because that is what good weather does to the psyche. Only once or twice did I feel the urge to drive into the back of the cars parked on the side of the road (topic for another post). We were all basking in that fall wonderfulness until the morning that we left for camp. Then, the sky turned the colour of a bruise and for the entire length of time that we were at the camp, it rained, with brief intermittent moments of sun.
If we had been in America, the teachers would have had to scramble to move the activities inside. Here in New Zealand, if you let the weather dictate your plans, you'd never get anything done. Kiwi kids are a remarkably resilient, uncomplaining bunch. There were twelve groups of 11 or 12 kids who cycled through 12 rotations of activities ranging from archery, a confidence course, low ropes and volleyball to a BMX bike ride, orienteering and the "flying fox". All of this was done outside. A partner and I ran the "raft building" exercise whereby the kids were given long bamboo poles, 20kg plastic drums and ropes out of which they were to fashion a raft and float it across an outdoor, unheated, pool. The weather ranged in temperature from 45 degrees F to 60 degrees F. I dressed like this:
I wore gumboots from the time I rose in the morning until I climbed into my bunk at night. I kicked myself for not remembering to bring gloves.
The reason that I tell you this is because most of the kids who came through our raft rotation, elected to strip down to their bathing suits, hop aboard their floating creations and try to get from one end of the pool to the other. While I sipped hot tea from a Tim Horton's mug, they fell into the water, screeched, laughed and hopped back up. When the girls in my cabin filed in after their outdoor activity-filled days, covered in mud and soaked through, they stripped off their clothes, shoved them into plastic bags and got into hot showers. There were very few complaints. I was so impressed. I couldn't wear enough layers and I watched from the cocoon of my sleeping blanket as the children got up at the ass crack of dawn and ran out the door to the gym to exercise in their jammies and slippers. School camp in New Zealand is character building. I loved it and hated it at the same time but one thing is for sure: I'm awfully grateful that my kids got to experience it.
Next year, Dylan doesn't have a camp, which really makes me sad. and Liv's year seven trip is this great adventure on the Hauraki Gulf Island of
Motutapu.
I fervently hope that I'm one of the parents that gets picked to go.
