The battle of 95

The phrase "fighting the heat" has always been one that I've said without thinking. It has just meant that its hot, slightly uncomfortable, that I would of course be happy if it was a bit cooler. I never thought of it as an actual action, of physically "fighting" . . . until this year.

Unlike Alister, I grew up with heat. We had hot summers but they were also dry and dry heat is always more bearable than humidity. We also lived in a house, surrounded by trees and a big swamp cooler that rumbled away on the top floor in summer months and cooled the whole house.

Philadelphia was hot, but in America there are so many places you can go to get out of the heat even if you don't have air conditioning in your home. I was also working the summer I was in Philly - and there was air conditioning at work.

In Kiev, living in an apartment with a baby, there is only so much you can do and you begin to realize that people do die from the heat, especially babies. Suddenly it hits home that you really are fighting the heat. There is no offensive plan in the battle, it is purely defense, and this in and of itself makes you feel a bit hunted.

A warm front has come up from Africa and covered Northern Europe. And the heat is staying. There is no wind, not even a breeze. At night, running a fan in front of the window all night, the temperature in the room didn't even go down a degree. So far we are losing the battle. On Sunday, the lowest temperature in our apartment was 31 degrees (88F) today it has risen to 33 (91F). We have all retreated to the bedroom. Kiev is not a young child friendly place. I can't pack the baby up and go sit in an air conditioned cafe or mall. There are no baby changing stations, no real acceptance of public nursing - at least you never see it. I did nurse publicly once when my mother-in-law was here and we went for coffee, but we got some looks. But even if we did leave the house -how to get from point A to B in the least and coolest amount of time is also a challenge that needs strategic thought.

And so we sit in the bedroom, the ceiling fan running, another fan blowing on high over frozen water bottles, and the cat panting under the bed.

Saphira is miserable. Her activity time now consists of a cold bath, or sponging her with cool water. The heat has succeeded where tiredness and a string of visitors in Northern Ireland didn't - it has made a very unhappy, crying baby. And such a mournful cry. The heat has also put us back on a 2.5 hour routine where as we were almost up to 3.5 hours before. This is normal, apparently, as breastfed babies drink less, but more often, to cope with the heat and get the high water content that they need to manage the heat.

Today we left the house at 7 am and just sat under the trees until 8:30. Already it was getting hot and so we came back to our closed, dark, hot apartment.

The sidewalk in front of our home - normally a busy thoroughfare of activity throughout the day was empty yesterday - not a soul from 9am until after 6:30 pm. The market is only open from 9am until 7 - and so the question is also how to take care of the shopping - fresh veggies and meat - with a small baby in the heat? How to do the shopping in the supermarkets in the evening with a baby who knows it is time to sleep for the night at 7:30? And how to put a baby to bed in the heat when she likes to be swaddled and wakes herself up without it, when the temperatures mean that any added layer of fabric is a torture?

So we sit and strategize our next line of defense in the battle over our apartment.

Weather, babies, and Drafts

The weather in Kiev has been unseasonably warm - which has been pleasant.

Today, however, a gale blew in from all directions. Hail and sleet came banging in from the left while rain flew in from the right. The wind blew through making visible currents in the rain.

Looking down on the sidewalk from our window, we watched the poor people caught in the rain - their umbrellas turning inside out in the wind, clutching their coats up to their chins, and breaking into a fast trot to wherever they were going - the store, home, a friends. Anywhere dry. 8 minutes later the rain and hail and wind stopped. the Sun came out and now, looking out our window, you see a fresh and brighter Harkovsky, the sun reflecting off of a distant Communist grey building. Nestled in the middle is the brick Baptist church of the Transformation. A lovely new building with, seemingly, multiple ministries - including a group for young mothers. There are hundreds of mothers who walk up and down our sidewalk. Apparently children must be taken out in the air twice a day without fail. In Ukraine - fresh air is very healthy - unless you are inside and open a window - at which point the air turns into a Draft (note the capital D as in deadly). While many younger people have conquered their fear of the Draft - others remain in its clutch and sit suffering and sweating in stuffy overheated rooms for fear of the horrors of opening a window. While there may be some wisdom in this - a teacher of mine in highschool once suffered from a full paralysis of the right side of his face from sitting front of a fan - the extent to which it is sometimes taken is very difficult for me - who feels that it is hot, stuffy, and unbearable. However, I am also currently suffering from a head cold - invariably brought on by sitting in front of an open window during our small group last night - after another group member had relinquished his seat due to the draft.