No Kids in the Neighborhood

One thing that's different for my kids is that we don't live in a neighborhood where there are kids to play with and that makes me kind of sad for my kids.

When I was a kid, we just went outside and knocked on someone's door for a play date and then we would play all day. We'd go to someone's house and play for a few hours: I remember long games of Monopoly and some playing with Barbies (although I never loved Barbie). Then, we'd move on to someone else's house or come back to our house where we'd have elaborate pretend games or we'd jump in the sprinkler.

In my memory, adults were scarce. Mothers would pop in once in awhile to tell us to be quiet because a younger brother or sister was napping or they'd come out with some Kool-Aid or watermelon but supervision was minimal at best.

When we got older, we'd wander a couple of blocks away and wouldn't come home until we heard our mothers calling or they came looking for us. When we were about 12 or 13 or a little older, we'd ride our bikes to the local pool and stay there all day. When there was nobody to play with, I'd spend the day with my head in a book.

Unfortunately, there are very few kids in our neighborhood and the few who live within walking distance are at camp or on vacation. As a result, the only time we only get together with other families when I set up playdates.

I have a fantasy of sending my kids to visit their friends but this means they will literally have to go over a river (OK a little stream but still) or through the woods.

It also means that both of us would have to get used to that independence. I would have to let them go and they would have to accept the responsibility of finding friends on their own. They're so used to either playing by themselves or having me set up play dates, I'm not sure they're up to the task without some major push from me.

Having my kids go out and find kids to play with would solve a lot of the challenges of having the kids home in the summer: the constant turning off of the TV and confiscating the computer and the two boys squabbling. They're all a result of the two boys being a little bored and a little tired of each other.

Maybe we can never go back to the "good old days." Maybe we know too much about the dangers to kids from child molesters and other creeps to let them be quite as free as we were.

But one day this summer, I'm going to give them that little shove out the door to go find some fun on their own. I'd love to let them see what that freedom feels like, even if they knock on some doors and nobody's home.

Helping My Kid Breathe Easier

I spent much of Tuesday dusting, scrubbing, vacuuming and mopping my children's room in an attempt to help my younger son Will breathe easier.

I'm no neatnick but my younger son had pneumonia about a year and a half ago and he still has mild asthma so when he gets a persistent cough, I get concerned. That's why we brought him to the doctor when his summer cold didn't seem to go away and he kept coughing for more than a week.

Will is one of about 9 million children nationwide who have asthma, according to the National Institute of Health's MedlinePlus. It's a chronic condition that causes "wheezing, coughing, chest tightness and trouble breathing, especially early in the morning or at night."

Will has suffered from this condition since he was a loud and active 1-year-old and I brought him to the doctor because he had a deep, raspy cough that wouldn't go away. The doctor put him right on a nebulizer (a machine with a tube leading to a face mask that allows kids to inhale medicine).

In fact, both my children have suffered from mild asthma and croupy coughs and we've spent many nights putting them into warm showers to try and open their lungs enough for them to sleep. They were both were on Flovent, an inhaled steroid, and albuterol, which helps open their lungs. But since our dog died about seven years ago they both have been a lot better. That is until Will got pneumonia and we started paying attention to every cough and wheeze.

We don't know what caused this latest episode but we suspect it might be our moldy damp basement. The list of things that can trigger asthma includes
* Allergens - mold, pollen, animals
* Irritants - cigarette smoke, air pollution
* Weather - cold air, changes in weather
* Exercise
* Infections - flu, common cold (Source MedlinePlus)

I am not the best housekeeper and although I make my kids clean their room, I have periods when I can't deal with the sheer volume of mess and I give up. So my cleaning storm was partly to make up over my guilt for letting their room get dirty enough to possibly make my kid sick.

There are many measures you can take to avoid triggering asthma, including running the air conditioner, closing windows on high pollen days and cleaning air filters. To deal with dust mites, The Nemours Foundation's kidhealth.org suggests cleaning and vacuuming once a week, washing bedding in hot water and covering mattresses with plastic, allergy-free covers (we did this several years ago). They also suggest removing wall to wall carpets, minimizing clutter, taking most of the books out of the room and having a minimum of stuffed animals.

I've fought a losing battle against stuffed animals for years despite my kids' allergies to dust and the fact that they're both too old for stuffed animals. This week, I took all but a few of the dogs, bears, elephants and rabbits and put them in a laundry bag and banished them to the basement. I removed the rugs and shook them out, then put them on the back porch to air out. I took off all the kids' bedding and washed it and then cleaned everything thoroughly.

My kid is still coughing but at least my conscience is clean. Ha ha. Now if I can only keep my children's room clean, maybe we can avoid a trip to the doctor for the rest of the summer.

*Photo from MedlinePlus

Summer brain drain

My children are complaining bitterly that I am torturing them and ruining their summer. Why? Because I’m forcing them to read for half an hour a day and spend 20 minutes working on math and writing.

I’m hoping that by forcing them to fit in some work along with their splashing in the pool or riding the waves at the beach, they just might arrive at school in September with one or two thoughts left in their head.

It turns out these long, lazy days of summer can mean losing valuable reading and math skills by the time summer resumes, according to experts.

``We think that they're both really associated with the same factor and that's the opportunity to practice,'' explains Harris Cooper, a professor of psychology and director of the education program at Duke University who did one of the most extensive studies on the matter some call the summer ``brain drain.''

Parents can make summer a time for reading anything children are interested in, from comic books to road maps, suggests John Schacter, president of the Teaching Doctors, who helped found a reading camp for inner-city youth in Los Angeles from 2000 to 2003. Activities such as cooking and playing games also help sharpen skills.

Reading with children for at least 20 minutes a day is crucial, Schacter says, adding that it's also important that parents find books at their child's reading level, especially for a struggling reader.

`` Children should be allowed to read anything they want, whether it's comic books or fashion magazines, says Ann Rambo, associate professor of family therapy at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale and author of ``I Know My Child Can Do better: A Frustrated Parent's Guide To Educational Options'' (McGraw Hill, 2001).

As for writing, Schacter suggests children make up plays or stories or write letters to relatives. They could even help with grocery lists or planning trips.

Helping with math skills is more difficult because drilling seems the only avenue. But studies show that many children lose math skills during the summer for precisely that reason. Parents can help children practice math by having them add up purchases at the store or keep track of mileage on road trips or practice measurement in cooking projects.

Children from disadvantaged homes are the most likely to lose reading and math skills during the summer, according to research.

Schacter cites one study showing that these children may fall behind 2 1/2 years between kindergarten and fifth grade.

Some school districts have responded to the summer ``brain drain'' phenomenon by having a longer school year and starting school earlier in the summer. Others offer summer schools to help with academic skills. But putting children through a structured program during the summer can make reading and math chores, warns Schacter.

A better idea is offering summer camps for children who need extra help and trying to make it fun for children to improve their reading and math skills, Schacter says.

Parents should keep in mind that summer is also a great time for children to learn and develop in other ways, whether it's playing sports, practicing music or doing art projects, Rambo says. It's also a great time to learn through trips to museums or zoos or doing their own experiments, she points out.

Playing board games and puzzles can increase cognitive skills, Cooper says. And they're a good way for parents to spend quality time with their children.

It is important that the joy of learning doesn't diminish, Rambo says. ``There are a lot of academic skills that aren't measured in school. You can look at summer as an opportunity to spend more time with your child, to teach them in your own way.''

So, don't give up the lazy, hazy days of summer entirely. You can still spend most of the day lying around at the beach or by the pool with your children.

Just make sure you bring along a good book.


This is a revised version of a “Family Matters” column that appeared on July 12, 2005. Illustration from Lushpix at Fotosearch.

The Next Generation of Nerds

This summer will be remembered as the summer we unleashed the next generation of nerds when we all started watching, “Star Trek The Next Generation,” together.

For my husband and I, this is a trip down memory lane. We’re so old and these episodes are so old that they’re new to us. I suppose we could have waited until actual senile dementia set in, then they’d be really new but generally we can’t remember the plots just the characters.

“Star Trek Next Generation,” holds up pretty well. There are some 80s hairdos even on these supposedly futuristic people and some of the acting is a bit clunky and the other day we noticed that one background was obviously painted. But the plots and the characters are still great and they beat the hell out of “Drake and Josh,” or “The Suite Life of Zack and Codey.”

Now that we have inducted them into “Star Trek The Next Generation” we will boldly go on to other cultural touchstones. We’ll force them to listen to Bob Dylan and make them watch “I Dream of Jeanie,” reruns. OK, full disclosure: William is already listening to The Rolling Stones, Green Day, and INXS. He discovered Elvis from “The Blues Brothers,” and my husband turned him on to Michael Jackson when he showed him the "Thriller" video on YouTube. So much of what they watch and listen to comes from us.

I don’t know what this will mean for their future. Will they be unable to relate to their peers? Is this the equivalent of being into Frank Sinatra and Frankie Valli in my day? Nah. Somehow I’m sure our kids will free themselves from our culture to find their own.But first we have a small window in which to brainwash – I mean educate – I mean expose them to our culture.

As for “Star Trek,” I think imagining a galaxy jumping, peaceful human race of the future has to be a good thing for our kids. It’s better than pirates, more imaginative than cowboys or cops and robbers and it makes space travel look as simple as catching a train.

Who knows? Maybe by the time my kids are parents, they’ll be laughing about “Star Trek,” as they catch the shuttle to the moon or vacation on Mars. “Star Trek” makes us believe that none of it is an impossible dream.

My Dancing Boy Sees Magic at American Ballet Theater tour

My 10-year-old son Will got all dressed up in a suit and tie yesterday when we took a tour backstage at American Ballet Theater where our good friend Kathleen Moore Tovar was once a principle ballerina.

And there on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera before the red and gold theater spread out before him like a jewel box, my young dancer got to take a bow. He also got to do a few leaps across the stage between rehearsals.

It was a magical day and one that I hope will stay with Will, who has taken ballet since he was 6, if he ever does become a dancer. The costumes, the scenery, the grace of those beautiful dancers, were all very dream-like even for a novice like me who barely knows a jeteé from a jamboree.

My young dancer also got to do a few leaps on the stage when the performers had left the stage. The costumes, the scenery, the beautiful dancers, were all part of the incredible tour that our friend Kathleen Moore Tovar, a former prima ballerina at ABT, gave us on Monday.

Will’s eyes turned wide when Kathleen took us backstage and showed us the huge elevator that is as big as our garage used to transports scenery. We tiptoed backstage to see the company finishing the first act of “Sylvia,” and costumed dancers began leaving the stage, many of them greeting Kathleen, who has been retired for 10 years but who still keeps in touch with members of the company.

There was a beautiful old-fashioned sailing ship at the back of the stage with blue striped sails and Becket and Will both got to sit inside it. One of the backstage people told us that it moves by human power. They simply push and pull it across the stage. Both boys were thrilled at this magical boat even if it doesn’t move.

Backstage we peered at a table of props including two treasure boxes seemingly brimming over with jewels. A little further away was a fake deer hanging upside down as if the hunter Orion who falls in love with Sylvia in the ballet had just shot it.

Our group traipsed past boxes of costumes for Swan Lake marked with Japanese writing and a huge cart full of plastic bags for the dancer’s slippers. Then we tiptoed through the area where the principal’s dressing rooms are and where Kathleen once had her dressing room (now a massage room). The halls are covered in red velvet and the principal’s dressing room we saw had a chaise lounge and a lighted mirror just as you would imagine a star dressing room should look.

I loved seeing the rows of sumptuous costumes of princes and royalty covered with jewels and brocade and a knight’s costume of some kind with metallic sleeves. Will and Becket popped into the men’s dressing room. Then we peeked into the make-up room where there were wigs and horns along a shelf and a make-up artist was getting a swirl of blue make-up applied to his face. Kathleen explained that ballet dancers generally apply their own make-up unless they are playing a role requiring difficult, dramatic make-up.

Next on the tour, we went down to the bottom floor where the studios were and Will remarked that the studio had ballet bars just like his. (He’s just 10 after all). We had a snack in the canteen and watched ballet dancers coming in and out in full make-up. Kathleen still knows many of the dancers and she’s friendly to everyone. She always introduced Will as a ballet dancer when we met someone.

In the basement, we happened upon a man coming from the set design section of the basement whose overalls and tees-shirt were covered in gray muck, who invited us to go through the section where they were making scenery for the operas.

The four of us went in and there were some men working on what locked like piles of rocks and rubble that on closer inspection was made of plaster. The men told us that they were working on scenery of an earthquake for “Attila the Hun,” and that it was designed by the same architect who did the Olympic “bird’s nest” in Beijing. There was also a faux brick stadium for “Carmen,” and we took pictures of Will and Kathleen’s son, Becket, on the stairs.

We went upstairs to watch the tech rehearsal and slipped into a soundproof booth at the back and center of the theater where we had a wonderful view of the stage and could chat away with anyone hearing us. We could hear all the techies talking during the rehearsal. “Cue the lightning,” one would say. “Eros is coming in at the left,” another would say.

All those directions gave us a sense of the odd plot of the show, which has something to do with Sylvia, a follower of Diana, shooting the shepherd, Aminta to protect the God of love, Eros. A hunter named Orion kidnaps Aminta and she somehow escapes and at the end Diana shoots Orion and is ready to shoot Aminta too when Eros shows her a vision of her own young love and they all live happily ever after. A few ballet dancers told us it wasn’t their favorite ballet because there’s not much story or opportunity to act.

At any rate, the production was sumptuous with beautiful gold clouds in the background of a Roman temple. Even the gold curtain with its many loops was fabulous. The music by Leo Delibes is beautiful and it made a huge difference having an orchestra perform the music. (We got to peek in at the orchestra pit during a break).

As Will and I and Becket watched, Kathleen critiqued the performance more for her benefit than ours. ‘Oops, watch out,” she’d say to the dancers, or “That was a nice move.” Or she’d say, “That was kind of awkward.” But mostly she was full of praise for the dancers, pointing out how talented the principle dancers were.

We sat for a few minutes in the audience and then slipped behind stage again as they finished their rehearsal to the applause of some invited guests.
Will has always loved dancing even before he ever took ballet. But for the past two years, there’s been plenty of competition with ballet: school plays, basketball and baseball. He sometimes gets tired of the constant practice and demands of ballet and he gets more pats on the back for the baseball. I worry about what happens when he goes to middle school and ballet is no longer acceptable.

So it’s nice to have one day that shows him ballet at its shining best. If he does happen to set his sights on being a dancer, he can aim for the stars and try to get back on that stage again when there’s an audience sitting in that beautiful theater.

I’ll be there applauding whatever he chooses and even he becomes a dog catcher, at least now we can say he once stood on the stage at the Metropolitan Opera.

Explaining Michael Jackson's death to the next generation fan

My younger son is a Michael Jackson fan. He discovered him himself through the magic of the Internet and something about his music and his dancing connected with him. One of his favorite presents at Christmas was "Thriller." (He also loved his Elvis CD. Go figure).

I liked Michael Jackson myself when I was about 12 and he was cute and had the same voice range as me. But in later years, he seemed to become more and more alien and I never doubted there was some truth to the rumors despite his being acquitted of child molestation. So I held my breath when my son went on the Internet to find out about Jackson. When he announced that he had been reading about him, I paused. "What did you find out?" I asked. "I found out he's been living in Europe and he's moving back to the United States." Phew.

Yesterday was W.'s birthday: the big 10. We went out to the Shore and spent the day at the beach in a rare afternoon of sunshine. Then we headed out to dinner. Everyone was talking about Jackson's death but my impulse was to shield my son. It was his birthday, after all, and I didn't want that particular black cloud to land on his birthday.

I'm sure he'll find out about Jackson's death today and I have that same uneasy feeling. I know he'll want to watch some of the coverage but I hate for him to find out about Jackson's darker side. It makes me queasy and I know he'd be disillusioned to find out about this creepy chapter in his hero's life. Then we'd have to explain the whole thing to him when he doesn't even know the facts of life yet.

I'm sure there will be an endless tide of media coverage washing onto the shore and in the end, I probably can't protect my son. So we'll have to talk to him about Jackson's death. As for the rest of it, I'll wait to see what W. picks up. I'd rather he remember how talented Jackson was than to remember all that other stuff. Come to think of it, I'd rather remember him that way myself.

First day of summer

The task now is to relax into the rhythm of the summer now that my kids are out of school. That's more of a problem for me than my kids. They seem to have it down. As we speak, my older son is immersed in his computer games while my younger son blasts a CD. Ah summer.

We tried to get into the spirit of things yesterday afternoon with a long walk into town for ice cream with two other families followed by a play date, then out for pizza. The parents sat outside enjoying a post-pizza beer, while the boys went running around playing their own version of hide and seek. We had some rare moments of sunshine before the sun dropped down into a pink sky and then twilight. I started to feel like it just might be summer.

Today we all were happily sleeping late before being woken by the blood curdling screams of my older son R. who was stung by a yellow jacket. My husband dispatched the offending bug and R. spent the rest of the morning on the couch. Is this a sign? Probably not. If anything it's a sign that summer isn't all strawberries and ice-cream but I think I knew that already.

I have a host of jobs to do around the house but I'm in a bit of a first day of vacation fog myself. I suddenly find myself unemployed for the summer after my class was canceled. That means I'm free to do all those projects on my plate, including writing. Unfortunately, I still find myself pulled in all directions: clean the house, hang out with the kids, work outside, plan the kids' birthday parties. My leisurely summer is never quite so leisurely as I imagine and maybe that's a good thing.