Choosing Whoppers Over Cheeseburgers

I learned today that those Nutri-Grain frozen waffles I give my kids are actually less heallthy than the low-fat toaster waffles and that we should be eating Triscuits not Wheat Thins.

I also found that glazed doughnuts at Dunkin’ Doughnuts have 330 calories and we should instead be choosing cinnamon doughnuts without the goo (or no doughnuts at all).

All this useful information was in a book called “Eat This, Not That For Kids,” by David Zinczenko with Matt Goulding, the kid’s version of the adult book by the same name minus the kids.

The book rates kids meals at a bunch of fast food restaurants and gives them letter grades, so Wendy’s gets an A- because it offers some healthy foods like chili and mandarin oranges, while Burger King gets a C- for having only a few kids’ items on the menu, none of which are healthy.

I was turned on to this book by a huge group of fifth graders who gathered around the book at my younger son’s book fair. I started reading it while I was working at the book fair and when I brought it home my sons loved it too. My older son loves telling me that I should be giving him chewy granola bars instead of the Nutri-Grain bars I’ve been buying.

I especially like the fact that they rate the fast food places but of course the true solution is to avoid fast food except for special occasions. So, while it’s useful to know that the Whopper Jr. is more healthy than the cheeseburgers my kids favor at B.K., the underlying idea that we can find truly healthy food in the drive-in line is just way off.

Then again, most of us do resort to occasional fast food. At my house, pizza is a weekly ritual – so much so that I’ve taken to eating salads at the pizza parlor.

Much of it is also common sense. Ben & Jerry’s gets a C- because of all the fat and sugar and the book tells me that the ice-cream with all the candy and goo (like my beloved New York Super Fudge Chunk) is a no-no and I should opt for the sorbet and frozen yogurt instead. I have always known as I stood by the ice-cream refrigerator that sorbet would be healthier and I still choose the Super Fudge Chunk or the Vanilla Heathbar.

I make most of our meals at home and we try to eat healthy. We don’t have many snacks and we don’t allow soda and I’m happy to see that many of the “Eat This” choices, like Frosted Miniwheats and Skippy Natural are my choice anyway. We skirt the line between organic and meat and potatoes at my house.

Then there’s my thin, low-weight children who look like they skip most of their meals and who seem destined to remain under 100 pounds forever. I was a tall, knobby-kneed youngster myself but here’s what the doctor told me: “Feed them everything you can’t eat: butter, cheese, oils, nuts.”  He added that we shouldn’t binge out on junk and we haven’t but I’m not so worried about fat and calories for my kids. I’m more worried about teaching them healthy eating habbits for life.

Still, “Eat This, Not That,” is a good read for kids and adults. If nothing else, it reinforces that we can make better choices even if it’s just a Whopper over a cheeseburger.

Organization: The Blind Leading the Blind

           

  I am trying to help my son become more organized but it’s like the blind leading the blind.  I’m sure he can see that someone whose desk looks like mine does shouldn’t be handing out tips on organization.

            My heart goes out to him because he has many of the same struggles I had as a kid: He forgets his homework, he does his homework but then he can’t find it, he doesn’t always know what the assignment is.

            So he and I are going to spend some time tonight putting his papers in their various subject areas in his looseleaf notebook. It took me about a week to convince him that this is a better system than keeping his papers in folders .

            The other problem he has in school is harder to fix: he simply isn’t engaged when he isn’t interested and so he spaces out in math and doodles in reading/writing workshop. This is understandably frustrating for the teachers and doesn’t help him much either.

            Someone told me recently that kids with attention problems like R. have real trouble engaging their brains when they’re bored. When kids with ADHD are given brain scans as they do a task they find boring, their neurons simply don’t fire.  This would explain a lot.

            The solution has been for me to hound him all day from morning until night and for me to keep in constant touch with his teachers so I know if he’s falling behind

            I got some words of wisdom from someone who told me that you can’t let these kids fail and you have to get on their team, so I’ve really been trying to get on his team and be patient. I’m not always successful.

            Meanwhile, R. is showing signs of some independence. Today, he took out a timer to time his reading and piano practice.  OK, maybe this is actually a sign that he doesn’t want to read or practice any longer than he has to but hey – I’m happy to see him being proactive.

             I’ll go on helping him to develop skills that I lack. At least, I’m well aware that it won’t happen overnight. It’s a lifetime process and we’re both learning.

 

 

No Flu Shots For Kids

           I finally got around to calling my pediatrician about flu shots the other day. I was pretty sure I knew the answer and there it was: no flu shots and no swine flu shots and no appointments or waiting lists for the future.

            My older son R. applauded when he found out.  But I’m concerned. In the past, my kids have always been at the top of the list for the shots because they have asthma. But not this year.

            Mind you, it’s an ordeal giving them flu shots. When they were younger, they screamed their heads off and they’re still far from stoic about getting the shots.

            We always have a conversation that goes like this. Me: “You’re going to the doctor today.”  Them: “Are we getting shots?”  Me; “Um – yes.” Them: “No, we’re not.” Me: “Yes, you are.”

            I win that argument but only after all but carrying them into the waiting room. One year I got my husband to go with them and he never wants to go again.

            Still, I worry about my kids getting the flu this season. They both get those terrible coughs that won’t go away. W. is worse. He gets really sick and just a couple of years ago he had pneumonia.

            I asked the cranky nurse at my pediatrician’s office whether there was any exception for kids with asthma. I figured it was worth a shot. But she was clearly tired of talking about it. When I asked if there was a waiting list, she just told me to go to the website.

            When I went to the website, it explained that they are out of shots and that they are not taking appointments until they get the shots. I guess the nurse got tired of explaining that to me and I don’t blame her.

            Mostly, I feel a little guilty about not jumping to get the shots a month or so ago. Now I’ll be berating myself if my kids get sick this winter.

            I feel a little better knowing that thousands of other parents are in the same boat and if I’m honest, I have to admit that part of me is glad to put off doing something that makes my kids act like I’m sending them to the torture chamber.

            But when those shots come in, we’ll be among the first to line up. I’ve spent the winter with sick kids for weeks on end and if there’s any chance I can avoid that fate, I’m taking it, screaming kids or no screaming kids.

 

            

The Parent -Teacher Conference All Over Again

It was the same old story at the parent-teacher conference. Disorganized. Not working up to potential. Having problems with math.

It was very disappointing but I’m over it now. After all, it was decades ago when I was in junior high. My parents were concerned but I remained clueless about what my parents and teachers wanted from me until sometime in high school.

Today I found myself sitting in a parent-teacher conference hearing the exact same phrases from my older son’s teachers, proving once again that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

And here I am the organizationally challenged mom who struggled through algebra, trying to throw my son a lifeline as he sinks beneath an ocean of failed expectations at his middle school.

I finally turned around my grades when my parents hinted – threatened really- that I wouldn’t get into college. I know now that they lied. But it did succeed in scaring me into studying and when I started doing well in school it was much more satisfying than hearing that I wasn’t working up to my potential.

My son is no different than me in that respect. When he’s on a downward spiral, he feels bad about himself and he does badly. When he does well, he feels good about himself and does well.

It sounds so simple. But getting him on an upward trajectory isn’t so easy. We have to monitor his progress all the time and now I’m emailing his teachers to check up on him I discovered recently that he is apparently using his assignment book as a paper weight because he hasn’t written in it in weeks.

I had deluded myself into thinking that maybe I should let him be in charge of his work and take a step back. But it turns out you can only step back if your child is a self-starter and mine isn’t, at least not in school.

So now we’re getting him a high school tutor and he’s going for extra help after school and tonight he organized his folders and we spent a lot of time figuring out a better system. If we can help get him more organized, maybe he can go back to working independently sometime at the start of his freshman year in college.

I insisted that he sit in on the conference with his teachers because I wanted him to hear himself what they were saying about his worik. But when he came in, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights and I felt a pang of regret. I’m sure that his guidance counselor was right when he said that all R. heard was, “Blah, blah, blah.”

Having been there myself, know that when R. heard “You’re not working up to your potential,” he was as annoyed and baffled as I was. ‘What exactly does that mean anyway?’ he’s thinking.,“ and what do they want from me?”

Poor kid. I wish he had inherited something else – my red hair or my green eyes. Instead, I’ve passed on both my poor math skills and my “potential.”

Illustration from mochadad.com

Epic Morning Battles

Epic battles! Dramatic face-offs. A race against time to achieve the impossible and a noble quest.

No, it’s not Dan Brown’s latest novel. It’s my house in the morning where we are engaged in an epic battle with my son R. with daily face-offs, a race against time to get him to school on time and a noble quest: - an impossible dream - to get everyone moving while still maintaining our serenity.

You can stop laughing now.

We have been trying to achieve this since kindergarten when R’s kindergarten told us gently that she’d like to see our son sitting in his seat when school started rather than racing for the doorway. It’s been downhill ever since.

Now that my son is 12, you would think that he could get himself up in the morning,, get himself dressed and make his own breakfast and lunch but you would be wrong.

First comes the wake-up call. We give our sons a five-minute warning and then call or them to wake up. My younger son is groggy but willing. Not so my older son, who burrows deeper into his blankets until I finally give up in frustration, grab his feet, and put them on the ground. Talk about enabling.

Next, R. usually tries to curl up for a few more zzs on the couch so we grab his blankets again, roust him from the couch and start trying to get him dressed. This is where we practice our broken tape-recorder routine. Get a clean shirt, get a clean shirt, get a clean shirt. Put on some pants, put on some pants, put on some pants. Put on your socks, socks, socks.

And so it goes. We push him through breakfast where he inevitably asks for what we don’t have. Me: “Do you want toast or cereal?” R: “Waffles.”

And then there’s lunch. “Do you want ham or turkey?” “Peanut butter and honey.” Ahhhhhhh.

This morning, R. informed me that his friend’s mom makes his lunch every day. That might be true, I replied, but your friend does all his own laundry. Score one for Mom!

The show-down this morning came because of R.’s very poor, extremely disrespectful attitude in the morning and his screaming at me. In fairness, he might have been reacting to my raising my voice several times but that’s no excuse! This kind of escalation is how wars are started.

Everything had cooled down by the time R. got back from school and had transformed from demon child back to my sweet boy. We agreed that we would list all his morning jobs and he would sign a contract agreeing to do them. Then we would offer him a quarter a day if he succeeds and would take away video games if he melts down.

We’re also going to buy another alarm clock. The last one died after being dropped on the floor one too many times but maybe the next one will be sturdier.

All I want is a truce in our epic battle. I want fewer face-downs and more face time in the morning. I have a new impossible dream: a child who peacefully gets himself ready while I meditate or read the paper or something. All that I’m asking is we give peace a chance.

Image from sodahead.com

For those of us who never or rarely spanked our kids, it’s nice to have more ammunition: a study that says that spanking actually lowers kids’ IQS.

The study by Murray Strauss, of the University of New Hampshire, found that the children ages 2 to 6 of parents who don’t hit their kids had IQ scores that were 2 to 5 points higher than kids who were spanked.

This makes sense, Murray explains, when you consider that parents who don’t spank their kids are probably talking to their kids about their misdeeds instead of hitting them. Studies have also found that the children whose parents talk to them also have higher IQs.

The study also found that children who are spanked throughout childhood show signs of chronic stress.

The study tested the intelligence of children ages 2 to 5 and ages 5 to 8 and then went back and tested them again four years later. The younger group of kids who weren’t spanked scored an average of 5 points higher in the younger group and 2 and a half points in the older group.

A Duke University study of more than 2,500 toddlers from low-income families found that young children who were spanked were more aggressive and had worse cognitive abilities than kids who weren’t spanked.

The study focused on low-income families because previous research showed low-income families are more likely to spank children. Researchers aren’t sure whether this is because of the stress of money problems or because of what researcher and lead author Lisa Berlin calls:”cultural contagion” of behavior that pressures parents to follow the crowd.

Research has found people who spank tend to be younger, less educated, single and depressed or stressed. It’s more common among parents who were spanked themselves, it’s more common in the south and parents who spank are more likely to identify themselves as born again Christians It’s more common among African-Americans than whites or Hispanics.

One-third of the one-year=olds and half of the two and three-year-olds were spanked within the past two weeks.

All of this seems very depressing because the parents who believe in spanking probably aren’t going to be convinced that they should spare the rod. But maybe the studies represent a cultural shift in our society that’s been taking place over the past couple of decades.

I’ve spanked my kids a couple of times – once when my son ran into the street and another time when he put his brother into the sandbox, shut the lid and sat on it. But even then I didn’t feel right about it.

It’s never made sense to me that we should discourage bad behavior by doing something that is clearly bad behavior itself. How can we tell them to stop smacking each other if we smack them?

It’s also disturbing as a punishment because we punish our kids when we’re angry and we don’t want to be smacking our kids when we’re angry. We’ve all had that experience of feeling ourselves lose control but when that extends to spanking, it can’t be good for either the parents or the kids.

So I’m glad to hear that researchers are against spanking too. Maybe someday parents will look back on spanking like we might look back on putting people into the stockades. “Can you believe they used to do that?” these future parents might say. “Didn’t they know what it was doing to their kids?”

Parental Intervention In School

How much should you intervene in your kid’s schooling?

I have this dilemma with my oldest son who wants to switch out of a reading and writing workshop in middle school and take art or shop instead.

I think his writing skills are fine but he suffers from lack of motivation. I suspect he ended up in reading and writing workshop because he doesn’t like to write and writes as little as he can. I’m not convinced he needs remedial help as much as he needs someone to light a fire under him.

But word came back from his guidance counselor that she thinks he does need the class and should stay put.

Now I have to decide whether I should overrule her and I’ not sure I want to be one of those parents. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I do know best.

I listened to two moms talking about their high school kids the other day and they were fretting over whether their kids were in advanced or introductory algebra. Both were saying things like, “I want my kid to go to college,” as if this math course would make or break their kids’ chances to get into Harvard.

They too thought they knew best for their kids when they switched them to a more advanced class and they were probably right. Still there’s something a little wrong-headed about parents deciding things like what level math their kid should be in.

Back in the dark ages when I was a kid, parents rarely intervened in what went on in the classroom and they would never think of deciding to switch their kid out of a class.

My parents went to bat with me with a couple of teachers but they would no sooner think of switching me out of a class than they would think about sending me to beauty school. They had four kids and they were too busy to be that involved.

Now I wonder whether I’m in danger of being one of those helicopter parents if I take my kid out of this class. I’m going to talk to the teacher first, of course, and then make my decision. But why do I feel that I have one foot already on the helipad?

Longing For The Days of Time Outs

What do you do when your older kids misbehave? You can’t put them in time out anymore and sending them to their room won’t do it.

It’s enough to make you wish your kids were 4 again.

We had to punish our 10-year-old this week and our solution was to take away computer access, TV and play dates for a week.

But this turned out to be harder than you might think. One day, we had to sit for a friend’s kids and the next day they sat for ours. So much for taking away play dates.

Then today I caught my son watching television after I warned him not to turn it on. So he lost his dessert.

Tonight the poor kid can’t watch TV, cant’ play on the computer and can’t have dessert. He told me that there is nothing to do and I had taken away all his fun. He also shouted that I was mean and he hates me. Welcome to my world.

As I write this, he has been whining about his dessert for about half an hour. I explained that he is being punished for deliberately disobeying me about 28 minutes ago. Now I’m done and I’m just letting him whine it out.

In fact, I am beginning to see the power of taking away dessert. We could have saved ourselves all the trouble of taking away the computer and TV and the play dates and just taken away dessert for a week. That seems to be the most effective punishment we can dish out.

Still, I’m getting tired of all this crying and whining. I would send him to bed without his supper but it’s too late for that. Putting him in the corner won't work either. Maybe I can send him to his room for a while – just until he’s 18. I’m sure he’ll stop whining by then.

Art from What do you do when your older kid misbehaves? You can’t put them in time out anymore and sending them to their room won’t do it.

It’s enough to make you wish your kids were 4 again.

We had to punish our 10-year-old this week and our solution was to take away computer access, TV and play dates for a week.

But this turned out to be harder than you might think. One day, we had to sit for a friend’s kids and the next day they sat for ours.

Then today I caught my son watching television after I warned him that he would lose his dessert if the TV went on.

So tonight the poor kid can’t watch TV, cant’ play on the computer and can’t have dessert. He told me that there is nothing to do and I had taken away all his fun. It also led him to shout that I was mean and he hates me.

Image from momlogic.com

As I write this, he has been whining about his dessert for about 20 minutes. I explained that he is being punished for deliberately disobeying me about 18 minutes ago. Now I’m done and I’m just letting him whine it out.

In fact, I am beginning to think we could have saved ourselves all the trouble of taking away the computer and TV and the play dates and just taken away dessert for a week. That seems to be the most effective punishment we can dish out.

Still, I’m getting tired of all this crying and whining. I would send him to bed without his supper but it’s too late for that. Maybe I can send him to his room for a while – just until he’s 18. I’m sure he’ll stop whining by then.

Latch Key Kids

Today my kids were latch key kids. They let themselves in the door, did their homework and got very high marks on their first solo outing. I was the one who was a nervous wreck and flunked the test.

Both kids biked home by themselves and then my 12-year-old biked with my 10-year-old to his piano lesson about a dozen blocks away, stayed for the whole lesson and biked back with him.

Suddenly my older son was the responsible big brother and he rose to the occasion. When I called home from work to check up on them twice, they had everything under control.

When I came home, W. was happily sitting in front of the television doing his homework. “R. told me I could watch TV while I did my homework if I finished a lot in ten minutes,” he informed me. When I insisted on getting back to our usual routine and switched off the TV, W. told met hey did better without me. Sigh.

Like many of the things I worry about, it was a non-event and that’s fine. They didn’t miss me, they weren’t worried. It all went wonderfully.

But while my kids did great going solo, I didn't do so well. So tomorrow both kids are going to their friends’ house after school. They're up to the task of being latch key kids but I’m not so sure I’m ready to be a latch key mom.

When Is It OK To Leave Your Kid By Himself?

When is it OK to leave your kid by himself?

We’ve had this dilemma a lot lately. We left both boys home for back to school night at my son’s elementary school and I felt a pang when the principal said she would let all the parents get home to their babysitters.

I was OK when we left them alone for local parties in the area too. When we take W. to his dance class or I run out shopping, I’m fine at leaving my 12-year-old alone.

But tonight my older son is going to back to school night at his middle school with us, so I hired a babysitter for my 10-year-old. It just didn’t feel right leaving him all by himself, even though I’m sure he would have been fine.

At the end of the night when I’m $24 poorer, I may think better of that decision. But somehow I felt he might be lonely and scared with no one home. Then again, maybe I’m just treating him like my baby. Poor kid.

I once looked into New Jersey’s law about when you can leave your child by himself and it turns out there’s no age limit. You can be charged with neglect if you leave your kids alone and they’re too young but the law’s no help on what constitutes too young.

This week, we’re going to have a similar dilemma after school and I'm just going to have to grit my teeth and let them be latch key kids for one day. But I know I'm going to worry about them.

This is one of those questions that have no answer. You can’t look it up. You can’t research it. You just have to go with your gut. My problem is even my gut doesn’t know what to do.

Art from When is it OK to leave your kid by himself?

We’ve had this dilemma a lot lately. We left both boys home for back to school night at my son’s elementary school and I felt a pang when the principal said she would let all the parents get home to their babysitters.

I was OK when we left them alone for local parties in the area too. When we take W. to his dance class or I run out shopping, I’m fine at leaving my 12-year-old alone.

But tonight my older son is going to back to school night at his middle school with us, so I hired a babysitter for my 10-year-old. It just didn’t feel right leaving him all by himself, even though I’m sure he would have been fine.

At the end of the night when I’m $24 poorer, I may think better of that decision. But somehow I felt he might be lonely and scared with no one home. Then again, maybe I’m just treating him like my baby. Poor kid.

I once looked into New Jersey’s law about when you can leave your child by himself and it turns out there’s no age limit. You can be charged with neglect if you leave your kids alone and they’re too young but the law’s no help on what constitutes too young.

This week, we’re going to have a similar dilemma after school. There again, I’m sure the kids would be fine if they came home and did their homework until I got home an hour or so later. I’m the one who feels funny about it.

So I’ll probably try to get them both a play date so I’ll be sure that they’ll be perfectly happy that I’m gone. I know this is purely mother guilt but I can’t help myself.

This is one of those questions that have no answer. You can’t look it up. You can’t research it. You just have to go with your gut. My problem is even my gut doesn’t know what to do.

Illustration from clipartguide.com

The Exercise Catch-22

I’ve finally realized that I have to exercise in order to keep my sanity. At the same time, I’m finding that it’s virtually impossible to find time to exercise.

I’m sure I could find a dozen articles telling me all about the benefits of exercise and they'll all say I should exercise 30 minutes a day. But none of them explain how to find time to work out. It is one of those infuriating Catch-22s.

My solution has been to wake up at 6 a.m. and walk with a friend a few days of week. This starts my day out right but it also leaves me sleep-deprived and groggy. I’m not a morning person and I’m not discipline to give up a good book or the latest episode of “Entourage” for a good night’s sleep.

Every once in a while, I manage to fit in some exercise while doing my mom duties. The other day, for example, I biked with my son to his piano lesson. I came home feeling breathless but virtuous.

The days are gone when I could find time to go the gym although I may have to resort to early morning classes if I can’t find any other solution. I’m just afraid I’ll hit the snooze button every time I think about that step class.

So I’ll keep trying to fit in exercise where I can in my quest for serenity. If I have to do yoga under my desk, so be it.

Role Reversal

My husband is driving the minivan to pick up the kids every day and I’m taking the sedan to work.

This makes sense because my husband is home and I have a new five-day-a-week copyediting job in addition to my teaching gig and it all adds up to a full-time job. So he’s picking up the kids from school and ferrying them to ballet and tennis and piano lessons.

In other words, he’s me.

It’s only been one week but already I can see ways where this role reversal is wonderful. My husband folded the laundry in front of football the other day. I came home one day last week and the kitchen was sparkling and today he bought a few things at the grocery store.

Then there’s the darker side of this equation. I’m trying to overlook the fact that there were dishes in the sink when I came home today and the laundry is still sitting on the couch.

My first week at the new job was a comedy of errors. I mixed up appointments and piano lessons. My husband drove hither and yon only to find that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would be humorous if it weren't so unfuriating.

Finally, I gave my husband a mom’s calendar with a spot for Mom’s activities and the kid’s calendar. I crossed out “Mom” and wrote in “Dad.” The calendar has all of our kids’ numerous lessons and appointments. I know he finds this obnoxious but I haven’t seen any Dad calendars out there.

The other day my husband reminded me that the school picnic was Tuesday. “Come on sweetie,” he said. “This role reversal is going too far.” So I guess he’s feeling it too.

I wish I could say I miss picking the kids up from school but I’m OK with that. So far, I haven’t had any heart wrenching “Why can’t you come on the class trip?” moments. I’m even on the PTO although I had to leave the meeting early to go to work.

The role reversal thing doesn’t go too far. My husband is more interested in painting the house than in preparing dinner and I like to cook, so that’s OK with me. He doesn’t make the bed and he doesn’t have much interest in cleaning up on a daily basis.

The truth is we’re a work in progress. We haven’t figured out exactly how to do this. I’m sure there will be days where I’m resentful and vice versa. If he finds a job in this crazy economy and I really hope he does, then we’ll open up a whole new chapter of babysitters and after-school programs and then the juggling will really begin.

For now, I’m content to let my husband take over the minivan and I don’t mind slipping into the sedan and playing the role of bread earner for a while. It’s a different feeling being in this particular driver’s seat but it works for now.

Walking to School

We live on a block where there are no sidewalks and cars speed down our street at 40 miles per hour.

The sidewalk issue has been a contentious one here in Princeton. For us, having no sidewalks means it’s nearly impossible for us to let our 10-year-old walk to school by himself without putting his life at risk.

This is what we tell ourselves anyway. We walk him to school every day and one of us picks him up after school every day. It’s a time when we get to talk to him about his day and we get to walk off some of our midlife bulge.

But my seventh grader doesn't let us walk him to school anymore. He made it clear from the start of middle school that he wanted nothing to do with us accompanying him to school. He zips off with his friends on his bike and leaves us in the dust.

He's forced to tolerate us when we drive him to school during bad weather and bitter cold. But only until the spring when he’s off again.

I was interested to see the New York Times story on Sunday, “Why Can’t She Walk To School,” that details the dilemma parents face of when to let their kids walk to school by themselves. Some parents have gotten grief from other parents, school administrators and even police for letting their kids go solo.

It made me think about the fact that there are just a handful of kids at my son’s grammar school who walk by themselves. One friend let her children walk home by themselves but only if they had a cell phone that allowed her to track their whereabouts.

I feel slightly embarrassed to be among the legion of parents who accompany their kids everywhere, even to and from school. My parents never dreamed of walking us to school and they drove us only when it was serious rain or snow. No light sprinkle would do.

I want to say that we walked to school without ever having any problems. But now that I think about it, there was that guy who offered us candy to get in his car. We refused and when we came home and told my mom about it, she was understandably upset.

But hey that was in the dark ages. It didn’t occur to my mom to call the police. There were no bulletins that went out warning parents about the man. My mother told us to be careful and tell her if he bothered us again and that was the end of it.

I don’t want to bring back those days. I don't think a little caution is such a bad thing. But at the same time I want kids to have some independence.

For us, the walk to school is more about family time than protection. And it’s more about those speeding cars than it is about child predators. For us, walking to school with our child is all about savoring this last year of grammar school before our youngest child joins his brother and takes off on his own.

There comes a point when even if we insist on holding our kids hands, they let go. That’s when we have to stop our clinging and allow them to walk off without us.

Photo from blog.mlive.com

Even Babies Discriminate Link

The link to the Newsweek Story "Even Babies Discriminate" was wrong in my last posting. Here's the link: http//www.newsweek.com/id/214989/page/2

Do Babies & Kids See Race?

Do babies discriminate between different races? Researchers say they do and that babies are more attracted to the faces of people who look similar to their own family.

While babies and children discriminate between the races more than we might think, parents are still acting as if race doesn't exist or as Steven Colbert says, "I don't see race." I can understand why parents might feel they have to tiptoe around the issue but that's not helping our kids figure out anything.

When Mom and Dad don't teach their kids what they really do think, the kids fill in the blanks themselves, researchers say. The survey of white children aged 5 to 7 showed that children of parents who were not prejudiced themselves said that "almost none" of white people were mean but that "some" or "a lot" of black people were mean, according to an article entitled "Even Babies Discriminate" in the Sept. 5 issue of Newsweek.

Just telling kids "everyone is the same," isn't enough, explains Researcher Briggitte Vittrup, of Texas Woman's University, in an interviewer on NPR's "Tell Me More" today. Parents need to go further and tell children that although people may look different and live in different places, they may be very similar and may like the same toys or the same TV shows.

With no guidance from parents, children pick up on negative messages on television and in society itself, Vittrup says.

When researchers questioned children about their parents' attitudes, 14 percent said their parents didn't like black people and 38 percent said, "I don't know," even when parents weren't prejudiced, according to Newsweek.

In fact, when researcher Briggite Vittrup of Texas Woman's University, asked parents to talk to their children about race, many white parents dropped out of the study because they were so uncomfortable. Black parents are three times more likely to talk about race to their children probably because they feel they should prepare their children for what their race might mean in today's society.

So it all comes down once again to talking to your kids and we can't wiggle out of it. If we want our kids to learn good values about race and a whole host of other topics, it has to start at home.


Photo from doctor2008.wordpress.com

Photo Search

I’ve been going through our photos and there are boxes and boxes of them from the time my husband and I were dating until W. was 3 and R. was 5 years old.

Then they stop. There are very few photos of my kids as big kids. There are the school plays and the big occasions but I’ve concluded that we stopped documenting our kids’ lives when they hit kindergarten.

Some of this is because we’ve gone digital so we don’t store our photos in boxes anymore. They are on discs or in Iphoto. But still, there are surprisingly few photos of our life with the older boys.

This reminds me of my parents who took a ton of photos of me, the oldest, as a baby. Then a lot of photos of Ben, the next olderst, fewer of Alex, the third in line and a very few of Tony, the youngest.

Fortunately, we have friends who take photos of plays and playdates or we might have very little to show our own kids. The kids themselves also take photos but this can sometimes mean 100 pictures of the gecko and three of themselves or other relations

I don’t know what I can tell my kids when they ask us what happened after they left toddlerhood. Did the camera break? Well, yes, a couple of cameras did. Did we lose interest? No. We just got out of the habit. If they say, “That’s lame,” I’ll have to agree.

So, I’m a little sad about all those undocumented moments. I can tell myself that we were too busy living to stop and take a picture but that will be small comfort when I want to look back at my children’s 10th birthdays only to find that we didn’t take any photos. Sigh.

So, my new resolution is to start taking more pictures, even if I have to borrow my son’s camera to do it. As Simon and Garfunkle say in “Bookends: “Preserve your memories. They’re all that’s left you.”

Cell Phone Pressure

My younger son, W., wants a cell phone in the worst way. He has wanted one since he was 8. Now at age 10, he is outraged that we want him to wait until sixth grade, as his brother did, before we buy one for him.

“It’s so unfair,” he complained to me the other day during a long tirade in which he whined, begged, pleaded and offered to pay half the monthly fee.

When W. was 8, I just laughed that he wanted a cell phone. “You’re never away from us,” I said. “Why would you need a cell phone?.”

But now he has dance lessons and rehearsals and there are times when he could probably use a cell phone. Still, I’m reluctant to give in to the pressure of “I need a cell phone.” He doesn’t need a cell phone. He just wants one. Badly.

W. also told me that a kid at his camp made fun of him for not having a cell phone. I found this humorous because I’m sure only a handful of kids at his camp, which is the town recreation camp not some fancy schmancy day camp, don’t have cell phones.

So, that led to a discussion about how “you can’t always get what you want,” as the Rolling Stones say and how there will always be people with more and less than you have.

This line of reasoning didn’t work because W. wants what he wants. And I know that feeling. He doesn’t want to hear about economic realities and he doesn’t want to hear that his brother got a cell phone in sixth grade so he should do. He’s a younger child and he sees it as unjust that he had to wait for two years. R. wasn’t waiting, he says.

“In my day we had to dial our phones from home!” I want to shout. “If we wanted to call home, we had to find a pay phone! Our idea of texting was passing a note in class!”

But this would only get me blank stares. So, I grit my teeth and wait for the next onslaught. Is it our fault that our pampered kids think they should have everything their hearts desire? You bet it is. Should we resist the urge to give in? We should not. We should just say no for as long as we can. Maybe a little deprivation will teach our kids that the Rolling Stones really were right. “But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.”

Image from caise07.idi.ntnu.no

Watching Obama's Education Speech

I was happy that my son, W., who’s a fifth grader this year, got to watch President Obama’s speech in school yesterday.

I don’t know if any parents objected but W. said he didn’t think any kids in his class were sitting the speech out. Why would they? I fail to see why anyone would object to a president telling children how important it is to study harder, no matter what you think of his politics.

This particular president is in a unique position to make that speech because he himself grew up with a single parent and not much money. As he told the schoolchildren, according to a copy of the prepared speech on the White House website.

“I know a lot of you have challenges in your lives right now that can make it hard to focus on your schoolwork,” Obama told students at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Va. as many of the nation's 50 millio schoolchildren tuned in.

“I get it. I know what that’s like. My father left my family when I was two years old, and I was raised by a single mother who struggled at times to pay the bills and wasn’t always able to give us things the other kids had. There were times when I missed having a father in my life. There were times when I was lonely and felt like I didn’t fit in. “

But Obama said even children who have difficult lives, still have a personal responsibility to do well in school. “Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up,” he said. “No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future. “

W. seemed impressed about Obama's childhood. "He had a hard childhood," W. said. W. was particularly amazed at Obama saying he used to wake up before dawn every day so his mother could tutor him when they lived in Indonesia. When he complainmed talked about his childhood being raised by a single mother. He talked about how she used to wake him up early in the morning to study and when he complained she said, “This is no picnic for me either, buster.”

W. said his teacher told him the speech was “important,” and he thought it was too. “I thought it was about telling us to do well in school because if we don’t do well in school then the future will be bad because we are the people of the future,” W. said.

“I expect great things from each of you,” Obama told the students. “So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.”

Call me a socialist. But here’s a message that’s as American as apple pie and I’m proud that my son got to hear it.

Photo from the Associated Press

Back to school

It was the first day of school for W. and R. today and miraculously we managed to get everyone up and out of the house on time with no yelling. Yahoo!

I’m hoping we won’t backslide into morning chaos, complete with yelling, crying and whining and I’m just talking about me here. Ha. If we can have this smooth a day every day we will be a happy family.

R. was disappointed to find he had homework on his first day for the first time in eight years. I guess this is the year when reality kicks in. Poor kid.

W. was concerned that they had assigned seating at lunch than about anything else about fifth grade. He was very indignant that they had to sit next to assigned people and had to do an ice-breaking exercise. It was all to make sure the fifth graders socialize with each other.

We had our own anxieties about school starting. We were a little worried because there’s an adorable little girl in W.’s class who sometimes call him weird and picks on him. We’re pretty sure that this is because the little girl likes him.

W. and his friend S. reported that the little girl had whacked them in the hallway. We told them that the little girl liked them both and would probably whack them in the halls every day just to show it. Ah to be in fifth grade again. Although come to think of it, I hated fifth grade because of mean kids in my class.

As for my older son, he sailed away this morning to bike with his friends with a smile and came home looking tired and grumpy. But that may be because he had no one to play with and homework to boot.

I’m still happy that we’re back on schedule. It gives us all some breathing room, even if it does mean that our lives have gone back into overdrive. Summer’s like a long, leisurely drive through the country. But in the end, I like putting it back into high gear.

Illustration from Google Images courtesy of wired.com

Just Say No To Brownies

I often think fondly of a book that came out a few years ago in which the heroine buys brownies from the story and then brings them home and attempts to make them look home-made by smashing the edges a bit and cutting a few irregular pieces.

I was tempted to do just that yesterday when I stupidly agreed to make brownies for a teacher’s luncheon hosted by our local parent teacher organization on the same day I started reaching my college journalism class.

But rather than sensibly buying store-bought brownies, I attempted to whip up the brownies and get myself ready for school. Then I left the whole pan with my husband and asked him to cut them up, place them on a nice plate and bring them into school.

The result was a gloppy mess that my husband basically had to mold into brownie form. No one would mistake these brownies for store bought! (When I came home I popped the leftovers in the oven and they tasted pretty good).

Why do we do these things to ourselves? It’s that whole “I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan” mentality. I wanted to show that I could do it all and I only half succeeded. I showed that I might be able to do it all but I just couldn't do it that well.

I’d like to say that next time I’ll have the smarts to buy brownies and that I would even be cool enough not to bother making them look homemade. But the truth is that next time I would probably do the same thing. I seem to be determined to show that I am both a splendid homemaker and a fabulous teacher and mother. Yeah, right.

The ultimate solution, of course, is not to buy brownies at all. It's to politely but firmly refuse. After all, I was starting school on the same day as my son’s elementary school teachers and nobody was going to bake me brownies. Needless to say this option didn’t even occur to me.

Still, I would like to get to that level. It’s like some higher level of consciousness that you can only attain after years of meditation and reflection. Or maybe there will come a day when I simply can’t do it. When that day comes, I hope I will at last have the good sense and courage to just say no to brownies.

Brownie photo from piesandbass.wordpress.com

There comes a point every summer when I’m ready for my kids to go back. That time is now. My cute, fun boys seem a little bit less adorable at the end of summer, perhaps because they seem bent on annoying me to death.


They have a number of tricks to do that. They’ve been switching the TV on with the sound low, they whine about taking trips to their favorite store, they call each other names and bicker and they jump on the bed when they should be sleeping on the bed. It's all harmless and typical kid stuff. I just need a little less of it. You've heard of the vacation and the staycation? I'm ready for the schoolcation.

I know we’re supposed to be getting them back to a regular schedule now but it’s not easy. My kids have become night owls. Loud, screeching night owls who prevent us from relaxing at night with their incessant hooting.

I’m guessing that this means that we are going to have a very hard transition into school land. The kids will be sad and sleepy. I’ll be like the dad in the Staples commercial skating through the store singing, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” while my kids watch dolefully.

Don’t get me wrong, summer’s been fun. We’ve splashed in the pool the pool and at the beach. We’ve camped, we’ve barbecued, we’ve ridden bikes and taken hikes and now I’m done. I’ve had enough playing and I want to go back to work. I want to live in a house that doesn’t look like it was picked up in a hurricane and turned upside down. I want to be able to work in peace and quiet. I need less quality time, not more.

I know there are plenty of downsides to school starting. There’s making lunch and supervising homework and signing permission slips and driving my kids to sports and dance and piano lessons. But I’m willing to pay the price to get them out of the house for seven hours every day.

Will I feel a pang of regret on the day they go back to school? Sure. Will that pang turn to a big grin when I realize they won’t be underfoot all day? As Sarah Palin might say, “You betcha.”

Vacation lessons

I just got home from our summer vacation on the Shore and when I picture my summer vacation, I picture myself sitting on the porch in a wicker rocking chair with my feet up reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of tea.

That routine won’t work in my “real” life. I would have to stop working myself and my kids would go to school half an hour late with no lunches and dirty faces. And since that can happen even when I am on duty, I have to think of other ways to bring that vacation mindset into “real life.”

I may not be able to while away the mornings over the New York Times but I should be able to find a time to take a break during the day. My friend Diane naps before dinner. I’m hoping I can find a few minutes to stretch out while the kids are doing homework and allow myself some down time without thinking about laundery and shopping lists.

My husband and I took daily walks on the beach on vacation and it made us feel like we were on our honeymoon. It’s funny because we see each other every day but between the daily chores and bill paying and errands to do, we rarely get to just chat. So I realized once again how important it to find those moments, whether it’s a date night or just a walk around the block together.

Our family tends to relax in front of the television at night. But while that’s fun too, it’s great to unplug and move your body around. This vacation also made me realize that I need to keep walking every day and find more time to do yoga and meditate. All of those things provide a small window of relaxation in a busy day.

We spent almost every day sitting on the beach and splashing in the water and that’s just not possible in our daily lives. But we can try to spend some times outdoor every day. With no TV at our beach house, they were out on their pogo sticks or skateboarding or riding their scooters through town. So we need to try to find time to play outdoors, whether that means shooting baskets or puttering in the garden.

Having vacationed with two other families and their children, I also realize how important it is to find time to be with friends. It brings more joy and laughter into our lives just to break bread or play games with other people. . Sometimes we get so busy that we forget that we don’t need a fancy dinner or a big party to see friends, we can just order out pizza and still have a great time enjoying each other’s company.

All of this is easier said than done in the daily frenzy of our lives. Even with the best of intentions, I know there willl be many days when there is no time to relax until 11 or 12 at night and that’s OK. But I hope I won’t forget to give myself a little vacation time when I can and to remember that work and school and paying bills is important but we also need to find time to play. And that’s what I learned on my summer vacation.

Photo of Ocean Grove from The Coaster

On Vacation

Parent Papers is on vacation until Sept. 1.

Musical Memories for My Dad's 80th Birthday

On Saturday mornings, the opera music would filter up to where I was still sleeping in my bright green room on the second floor. Was it “La Boheme,” or “La Traviata?” I don’t know. I only know it was loud and I was annoyed at losing sleep.

But the music was beautiful and love of music was one of the great gifts that Dad gave me. In my memory, there was always music in our house. Dad would play thunderously and wonderfully on the piano, crashing through Mozart sonatas in a way that I could never replicate. There was music on the stereo and lots of singing.

I remember gathering around the campfire on camping trips roasting marshmallows and singing folk songs. And then there were all those Christmases when Dad would sit at the piano and we would all gather around and sing most of the songs in the book from “Jingle Bells” to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” Sometimes we took our act on the road in the neighborhood singing our carols and collecting Christmas cookies as our reward.

I’m grateful for all my years of piano lessons and for all those hours spent practicing. Dad and I played a duet together for one piano recital and what I remember most is not the recital itself but the practicing and how fun it was to make music together. We both laughed a lot when we practiced even when we made mistakes.

It was in those moments that we seemed happiest together and it gives me great joy that we still make music together on family occasions and camping trips. We still gather around the piano at Christmas time and my own children are learning to play the piano now so perhaps that joy in music will continue into the next generation.

When I cast back in my memory to recall those far-off days of my childhood, I also remember sitting on the front porch with Dad late on a warm summer night, having a heart to heart talk.
We were both night owls and on summer night, my bedtime was a little later and Dad would sit out on that beautiful porch reading sometimes. I’d find Dad there when I couldn’t sleep or was up late reading myself and we’d talk about things in a way that didn’t happen when everyone was up and about.

I’m not even sure what we would talk about. Was it my bad dreams and the fact that we both slept fitfully? It felt like a kind of honor to talk over the events of the day with Dad.

As a parent, I’ve learned how thankless parenting can be. And now that I am faced with some of those same parenting task, I see so clearly how many of the lessons I learned came from those daily tasks.

When we all get together to sing, as we will for Dad’s birthday today, I hope Dad realizes that the roots of those happy moments we share today started deep in the ground years when Dad played another chorus of “Joy to the World.”

Vaccination Education

The new swine flu vaccines will be available this fall and in all likelihood, my kids, who both have mild asthma, will be getting them.

I’m not ambivalent about this at all really. If there’s a chance that it will keep them (and all of us) from spending the winter sick, then sign us all up. And since I learned today that August is “Immunization Awareness Month,” (Who knew?), I’m thinking about all those parents who are more skeptical of vaccines or oppose them outright.

With more parents opting not to immunize their children, the larger question is how that decision might affect the rest of us. The Responsibility Project asked the question whether the responsibility of parents who make this decision extends beyond their kids. An official from the CDC points out in the blog that parents who don’t immunize could put others, including newborns and people with suppressed immune systems, at serious risk.

People forget that immunizations have eradicated diseases like polio, which affected 13,000 to 20,000 people each year until a vaccine was developed, leaving thousands disabled for life.

Still, I sympathize with people like my friend Shannon, who says she wants the flexibility to make vaccination decisions for her three girls, ages 4, 9 and 13. Many doctors, she says, are not willing to discuss the pros and cons of vaccinations or be flexible about when they're administered.

"I'm not totally opposed to vaccinations, I see that they've done good," she says. "But they've also quite possibly done bad, and I want to be able to make this decision. I don't want this imposed on me."

Opponents contend the preservatives formaldehyde and thimerasol found in the flu vaccine may be related to developmental problems, including autism.

After review of the numerous studies on that theory, the Institute of Medicine has concluded there is no relationship between thimerasol and developmental problems in children. But, just for parents' peace of mind, there are flu vaccines that do not contain thimerasol.

Dr. Robert Helmrich, of Princeton Nassau Pediatrics in Princeton, N.J., agrees that parents have nothing to fear from vaccines "There's a lot of misinformation out there,” he says. Anyone can write anything on the Internet."

* Some information in this article is from my Family Matters parenting column “Immunization Effects Reach Far,” Oct. 20, 2008.
Photo from the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases.

Money Talks Postscript

The boys went off on their own and came back with a fistful of dollars. So, I guess we've learned that they can be responsible (although they also got some help from a friend, I think).

Then today my husband sent them off to the store with $10 and they biked to the store by themselves. This is a whole new era. Yahoo!

Talk Is Cheap and Money Talks

It’s always been hard trying to teach my children about the value of money but now that we have less of it, it’s become essential.

The problem is when they don’t get to spend their own money, then they have no sense of the value of money. We’ve been talking to them about how we’re tightening our belts but talk is cheap and money talks.

So today when I sent my kids off to an amusement park at the beach, I entrusted them each with about $30 and then talked to them about how they should spend it: $15 for the amusement park, $6 for the aquarium, $2 for the beach and about $5 spending money.

Now I have to sit back and wait to see if they a. lose the money, b. spend it all on boardwalk games or c. come back with any change.

My kids get one dollar for allowance so $30 is a lot of money to them. Come to think of it, it’s getting so it’s a lot of money for me. Fortunately, they’ll be there with friends so I don’t have to worry about wether they’ll get home OK if they blow it all on those water guns to try and win a stuffed animal.

If they lose their money or blow their money on the boardwalk, that’s a lesson too (for both of us), although I suspect my friends will bail them out. Only time will tell whether this will be a cautionary tale for all of us. But I’m hoping it’s the beginning of a new era and that if you give kids responsibility, they’ll act responsible. (Gulp).

Photo from media.merchantcircle.com

The Queen of Mean Cracks the Whip

This is the summer when I started to crack the whip with my kids. Or maybe it’s the summer I decided I was done with being the only cook and scullery maid in the household.

For the first time, I’ve insisted my kids help clean up the house. I make them do dishes and sweep and I force them to (gasp) put away their clothes and neaten up the living room.

“When are we going to be done?” they wailed this morning while I was in the middle of a good whip cracking. “When we’re done,” I snapped. (I’m pretty sure I was channeling my own mother when I said this).

It’s late afternoon now and they did not, in fact work all day. And when they did work they were um – slow. That’s the nicest way to put it. My older son put a stool in the bathroom so he could sit while he sprayed the counter. My younger son periodically lay down on the couch.

But I did teach R. how to sweep with two hands and I succeeded in getting my younger one to take out the garbage. They learned how to fold blankets and they hung their shirts on hangers. It was very satisfying for me. Not so much for them.

Sadly, their pain is the very thing that cures what ails me in my house. I would be singing the blues all summer if I allowed them to turn the house into a hovel. My head would explode if I cleaned up while they lounged watching TV. I would become a witch or something that sounds like a witch.

In my quest for help, I have had to endure long lawyerly arguments from my older son about why he shouldn’t clean his room. I have had to threaten to take away dessert, computers, and television. I have set timers. I have yelled and cajoled.

My younger son scored a point or two when he pointed out (rightly) that my room was a mess and I just close the door and don’t let anyone in it. Touché, young man. But I replied (truthfully) that I am also working on my own room so it wouldn’t be so messy and that I don’t have play dates in my room. (Ahem!)

Always in the back of my mind, iare those future wives or girlfriends who either love me or hate me. They’re either married to the guys who sit on the couch in their underwear flicking through the channels with the remote and scraching their bellies or they’re married to the guy who picks up the living room and knows how to sweep. Maybe they won’t thank me if my sons sweep but at least they won’t curse me out.

But more importantly, my kids need to know that running a house is hard work. When they wail that they hate housework, I always reply (or snarl depending on my mood), “So do I.” And in the next breath, I say, “Now, get back to work.”

Maybe they think I’m the queen of mean but at least I’m avoiding becoming the sovereign of insanity. At least not for now.

Image from online.wsj.com

The melancholy side of August

I love summer but the last few weeks of August have this melancholy feeling. It’s still hot and sunny but I’m always aware that school is just around the corner and that our somewhat leisurely lifestyle is about to make a 180 degree turn.

In just a few weeks, we will be tied to the calendar again. We’ll be driving our kids to piano lessons and dance lessons and whatever other activity my kids have. I’ll have PTO meetings and my own classes to teach and I’ll probably be substitute teaching. (This may account for my melancholy).

Sure, it’s a beautiful day today and our big plan is to walk over to pick up William from camp and go get some ice cream. But the end of the summer is looming over us like some dark cloud on the horizon.

I’m starting teaching in just three weeks and my kids are starting about five days later. Yesterday, my soon to be fifth grader got a letter from school with a list of supplies and two projects. (He has to read a book and construct a device that will allow him to drop a raw egg from a crane without the egg breaking).

That’s all fine but it’s another reminder that the end is near. On the other hand, Mom’s Diner will get to close its 24-hour service when the kids are back in school and there’ll be less time for sibling squabbling. So I’m pretty sure I’ll be ready for them to go back. In fact, once September comes along I’m going to be counting down the days.

Still, I can’t help but see each day now as one step closer on the road back to reality. It makes me appreciate summer but it also makes the dog days of summer bittersweet.

My son William’s camp had their talent show today and the 5th and 6th grade boys lined up with their cool shades on to dance and show off. There was my son Will looking cocky.

Then the counselor shouted out to the crowd, “And here is Raymond DeVoe doing the worm.” Out Will came without so much as a correction and did a fabulous worm to much applause.

Still, I felt a little sad for Will. Many people in the crowd were no doubt thinking that Raymond was the terrific dancer. It's too bad that despite his hugely outgoing personality and confidence (not to mention dancing skills) Will is still mixed up with our quiet oldest child. Sigh.

I know it would be bad form to shout out, "That's Will, stupid." I just hope this is one of those times where I'm annoyed while my kid just shrugs the whole thing off. It might be that my youngest son has so much confidence that he just doesn't care. And if that's the case, "Whopee!"

Dangers to Kids From Chlorinated Swimming Pools

You worry about your kids getting ticks outside. You're anxious about whether they'll get sunburned. You wring your hands about their diet and you fret over whether you should get them off that darn computer. And now here’s one more thing to worry about: the pool.

That’s right, the pool. The swimming pool that we’ve all been turning to in this hot weather. The place where you and your kids are happily splashing and your kids are practicing their best cannonballs. That pool.

It turns out that breathing the air around chlorinated pools may be leading to asthma and other respiratory ailments in kids. This makes sense because chlorine is a pretty heavy duty chemical but it’s sure to be a source of frustration to parents like me who for years made their kids take swimming lessons, who dip in the pool every day and who can’t help wondering: Is there any activity or place under the sun that is safe anymore?

One recent study of 121 6 to 12-year-old boys by doctors at the University College Cork in Ireland found that the more years boys had swum in an indoor pool, the more likely they were to have asthma.

The researchers said that the chlorine Products used in swimming pools, including chlorine gas, could interact with organic products (pee, sweat, hair) to produce nitrogen trichloride, “a known respiratory irritant,” according to the Irish Times.

Several other studies have had similar findings. One 2006 study of youth athletes in Quebec, for example, found that young “high-level swimmers,” coughed and wheezed more than indoor soccer players. About 30 percent of “elite” swimmers have asthma, according to some estimates, according to the New York Times Well blog.

Some research also shows that babies and toddlers shouldn’t be exposed to indoor pools at all with toddlers showing the same effects from indoor pools, as you would find in smokers, according to the Times. (Again this makes sense but only makes all of us wince when we think of all those Mommy and Me classes).

Experts say that casual swimmers probably aren’t at much risk and most seem to suggest that indoor pools are more dangerous than outdoor ones. However, one study of 847 European school children found an increased risk of asthma and respiratory ailments among children who use outdoor pools the most.

Since we happen to have an outdoor pool that we use every day in the summer, I don’t know what I should do with this information. The experts say that parents should keep a look out for respiratory ailments among swimmers and have them see a doctor but this seems obvious or as any kid might tell you, “Duh.”

The authors of the Irish study admitted the study was small and recommended better ventilation and more attention to hygiene at pools. One doctor told the Times that he advises swimmers to avoid choosing colleges where they can smell the chemicals in the pools before they get to the pool.

All this is well and good but still frustrating. As the mother of two boys with asthma who for years took swimming lessons at indoor pools, what the heck l am I supposed to do with this information? Should I bring a fan into the building next time my kids take swimming lessons? Should I run around dispensing swim diapers to make sure no pee gets into the pool? Gimme a break.

If your kid is a swimmer who spends much of his time either practicing or attending swim meets, this is a study guaranteed to make you want to bang your head against the diving board in frustration.

Sometimes I think it’s better to be blissfully uninformed. Unless you make your kid wear a gas mask while he splashes in the pool, it just might be better not to know about this one.

Camping: Rain, Bears, Outhouses, Oh My

It was a camping trip that affirms all your worst fears about camping, while at the same time demonstrating once again why you keep coming back.

Best time: singing songs around the campfire and making s’mores with seven boys who thought they’d died and gone to heaven. Worst times: an outhouse so malodorous and disgusting that we dubbed it “hell.”

We had one beautiful night sitting by the campfire under the stars and one night of rain that left us rushing to erect a tarp so we could stay dry by the campfire. We had one night of blissful rest in our cozy tent and one night of tossing and turning while the rain dripped over our sleeping bags from our not-so-waterproof tent roof.


One reason to love camping? Camping is one of the few places, maybe the only place, where there are no computer games or laptops and no phone calls. Just the quiets sound of seven boys from ages 2 to 12 playing with each other. OK, so maybe it wasn’t so quiet, but all that noise doesn’t seem so bad when you’re outside.

The main thing camping did for us was to bring us together. My three brothers and I never get to spend so much time together by ourselves and it’s rare that we have all of the next generation: the seven cousins together. Our own parents weren’t around and now we were the people in charge. It was a strange feeling but we all made it work.

It was worth everything to see the kids playing together. There was 2-year-old Cole and 4-year-Robbie play inside a box like they had landed inside a magic spaceship. There were the “big” kids putting an arm around the younger ones to herd them back to campsite or away from the fire.

Sure, we had to worry about black bears getting into our food. We had to keep constant watch over the younger kids around the fire and the road. We had to put up with walking to “hell” when nature called. Naturally, we found out that we had left behind the syrup and the salt and an entire bag of bread. But our kids were so hungry, nobody noticed.

Yes, we did come home with quite a bit of laundry, including three bags of wet clothes and dozens of items smelling like wood smoke. But it’s a small price to play to be able to sit around the campfire and sing.

It was all worth it when my 12-year-old nephew who’s never shown much interest in family activities, talked about how much fun he was having and asked if we could go next year.

I figure that if you include the preparation and the laundry and the clean up, our two-night camping trip takes about a week of work for preparation and clean-up. But that’s not so much when you consider that it’s the one weekend the kids will be talking about it all year round.

The truth about camping

Here’s the truth about camping. You spend days packing everything you will need to set up your household in the wilderness in any weather. You labor to pack it all up in what amounts to fitting an elephant into a dog’s cage. You slog away at setting the whole darned thing up in the wilderness. Then after two days, you do the whole thing again in reverse. I suspect this is why my sisters-in-law are not going camping this year.

Don’t get me wrong I love camping. There is nothing better than sitting by that campfire gazing at the stars. I love singing by the campfire. I love hiking. I even love s’mores.

It’s the preparation that is a chore. Partly because you’re trying to do something very difficult: make sure your family is fed, dry and safe during your camping trip. So you have to bring clothes for all sorts of weather. You have to pack pots and pans and food galore.

For those of us who cook every day, the prospect of cooking in the wilderness is – um – not the best part of camping. Let’s face it, if we could do without the cooking of macaroni and cheese over a camp stove, we would do it.

I’m not freaked out by the bugs or the dirt. I can deal with the lumpy air mattress and sleeping outdoors. Usually we’re so exhausted that I manage to sleep anyway. It’s the wet clothes and the whole food thing that’s difficult.

What I truly enjoy is spending time with my kids and my family. This year, it’s all my brothers and all the cousins together. This means that I’m camping with 11 boys and no girls but hey, you do what you can to bond.

In past years, my kids talk about the camping trip as the highlight of their summer. It doesn’t matter that we’ve spent weeks at the Shore or traveled to amusement parks or had trips to the city. It’s the camping that delights them.

Last year, we camped at Assateague Island in Virginia. It’s a beautiful place where horses roam free and where they are, in fact, so free that they broke into our tent and ruined the netting on our tent’s front door.

Nevertheless, as we sat together watching the stars and trying to do some singing without the benefit of a guitar, my son Will looked up at me and said, “This is the best day of my life.”

When you hear that, then you forget all about how hard it was to pack and what a pain it was to set up the tent and to schlep all that food in its pool of melting ice. You only remember that your children were supremely happy camping. And so were you.

Of course, just as the memories of how painful childbirth is come back when you're ready to give birth again, so too do you remember what a pain it is to get ready for camping when you're packing up again. But just like childbirth again, it's too late because you're already committed and there's no turning back. You just have to take it on faith that the memories you create this year will make it all worthwhile once again.

* * Illustration from Bing Images and yosemitevalleycampers.org