Road Trip

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who take driving vacations and those who don't. Let me preface what may turn into a bit of a rant by acknowledging that during a summer when gas prices topped $4.00 a gallon, any vacation was a luxury (thanks, Mom and Dad).

So now that you know I'm not a total brat, I'd like to say that vacations just aren't what they used to be. I vaguely recall flying to foreign countries, sailing on the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean, and dining in ridiculously expensive restaurants in some of the world's best big cities. Though the memories are distant and few, I know I was there because I have the pictures to prove it (OK, non-digitized slides, so you'll have to take my word for it). 

Now, vacations are all about driving. I was raised in a family that traveled almost exclusively by car. We took wonderful vacations all over the eastern US and well into Canada, and my parents took great care to make the road trip part of the vacation. I don't know how they did it. Perhaps it's because we weren't going to visit anyone, we were just traveling.

I really like to drive and my four kids are topnotch travelers, so when my parents lived in Michigan, I thought nothing of throwing everyone into the car and driving the 268 miles to their house on Pleasant Lake (exactly 4.5 hours door to door). My parents now live in Florida and we have made the trip from Chicago to The Villages about a half dozen times. I know my folks are happy there in the Sunshine State, but no matter how you slice it, 1,200 miles is a looooong road trip. We've tried everything to make it better:  

• Interstate all the way (through IN, KY, TN, GA to FL; or through IL, KY, TN, AL to FL) — relatively efficient, but excruciatingly boring.
  
• Staying over one night with two full days of driving — the most straightforward and least taxing, but still boring.
• Staying over two nights and trying to do something "fun" along the way — cuts into the time you have to visit and it makes it feel like as soon as you get there, it's time to go home.
• Driving straight through starting at 2:30 in the morning — not as bad as it sounds, but pretty exhausting (and it made my father a nervous wreck worrying about us).

Part of the problem with driving between Chicago and Florida is that it's impossible to avoid Tennessee. My apologies to all you Volunteers, but the fact is that I have never been to Tennessee without encountering some form of weirdness. It's not that anything is ever completely wrong in Tennessee, but nothing is ever completely right, either. A couple of examples:

• We stopped at a grocery store that had a tattered sign on the conveyor belt that read: "Belt broken. Please push groceries forward by hand."
• We stopped at a hotel and ordered a rollaway bed. When it was delivered to the room, the springs meant to hold up the bottom half of the mattress were missing. When I pointed this out to the gentleman from housekeeping, he took off his belt and jerry-rigged it saying: "There, that ought to hold you for the night."
• We stopped for drive-thru fast food and it took 54 minutes.

While we're at it, you should also know that it is impossible to get through or around Atlanta without encountering at least one major traffic jam. It doesn't matter what time of day or what day of the week it is, if you get within 100 miles of Atlanta, you will lose at least an hour to gapers' block.

How, you may ask, do we keep from going crazy during this long journey? That I can tell you in one word: tradition. Our traditions are ancient and, truth be told, we have no idea how they started, but they always include at least these three things: Egg McMuffins for breakfast, plenty of books on tape (or rather, CD) and listening to the entire soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof at least once.

Along the way, we've had more than our fair share of adventures: a blowout on I-65 near Elizabethtown, Kentucky — at midnight, in the rain; having to replace a damaged car-top carrier in the parking lot of Sears in Merillville, Indiana — in December, in the rain; and locking my keys, purse and cell phone in the car — first time ever, thankfully not in the rain. 

This year's excitement came in my parents' driveway when I put the key in the ignition of my car and it would not turn. I jiggled the key; I tried turning the wheel; I tilted the steering column; I tried the remote start; I even read the manual. Nothing worked. One tow, four days and $319 dollars later, I had a brand new cylinder and could turn the key just fine.

Not all of our adventures have been disastrous. On one trip home, we were stuck in a traffic jam — Kentucky, this time, on I-65. Nothing was moving for miles in either direction. I'm a patient driver, but I hate just sitting in traffic, so we decided to go off route. 

We were deep into the story of Tom Sawyer on CD, just at the part where Tom and Huck are rafting out to Jackson's Island on the Mississippi, when we somehow found ourselves driving through Mammoth Cave National Park. It was beautiful wending our way through the twisting roads of this magnificent forest. Along the way, we came upon a strange sign that read: "Road Ends in Water." I had absolutely no idea what that could mean, so we continued on over a hill when, sure enough, the road ended in water — the Green River, to be exact. 

I was just about to turn around when I saw a man at the lip of the water waving us down to him. We crept down the hill to find that he was standing on a small cable ferry. He guided us on board and ferried us across the water to where the road started up again on the other side. I swear, during those few minutes aboard the cable ferry we felt like we had joined Huck and Tom on their log raft and it was pretty cool. You just don't get experiences like that on the Interstate. On the other hand, it took us an hour and a half to go fifteen miles, we were more than happy to return to I-65 and its 65-mile-an-hour speed limit.

I'll admit that our adventures have taught us a few things. My kids have learned that there is nothing we can't handle (after a momentary freak-out, of course). They have all become expert at reading a map and looking for alternate routes. And we have heard some classic tales on CD that none of us would ever have plowed through in print (Swiss Family Robinson, Five Little Peppers and How They Grew and The Borrowers, to name just a few).

Let's end by taking just a moment to honor the two most important accessories for a successful car trip: a cell phone and books on tape. Don't leave home without them, and look for my tips for painless road trips on my HubPages soon. Share your favorite road trip adventure by clicking here.

Photo credit: Lignting fast [sic] by Pedro Vidigal via flickr.com.

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Leavin' on a Jet Plane

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who like to fly and those who don't. 

Remember when flying was fun? When your luggage flew for free and security meant checking to make sure you hadn't forgotten your ticket?

When I was a kid, flying was a big deal. It was expensive (by my family's standards, at least) and people still got dressed up to travel. Flying was such a special event that I remember exactly what I wore for my first flight — to Florida when I was 12 years old. My mom had made me a brand new outfit: heather brown elephant bell pants, a melon colored halter top and a cropped, window-pane-checked jacket with short princess sleeves. Wait, don't forget the platform sandals — the literal and figurative height of '70s fashion.

We were not a family of frequent flyers. My dad was, and still is, terrified of flying. His first flight, from Detroit to New York, was so turbulent that he took a train home. When he did have to fly for work, the only way he managed was with "greenies" and martinis. In other words, he was flying before he even boarded the plane.

Fear of flying takes many forms: some hate the takeoffs, others dread the landings; some fear crashing, others are troubled by turbulence. Then there is the airplane agoraphobic — the one who fears being stuck someplace where help may not be available.

For me, flying BC (before children) meant adventure — exotic vacations or weddings or warm-weather getaways in the middle of winter. I was always excited, not scared. Even the mishaps were exciting. Once, on a trip home to Detroit from Jamaica, we tried to outrun a winter storm and ended up on a Cleveland runway for 13 hours. The plane had no food, but plenty of alcohol and everyone was loaded with liquid happiness when our pilot, Captain Bobo (I'm not making that up) told us we would be taking off again and landing in New York just in time for New Year's Eve.

After I had children, I would get a little nervous when I flew alone, wondering what would happen to them if something happened to me, but the danger seemed remote. Flying with children, on the other hand, is a whole different kind of adventure and, for our family of six, prohibitively expensive. These days, when we travel en masse, it's by car.

Last week I encountered a new kind of airborne angst: putting my child on a plane by herself. She's 16 and has flown alone before, but this trip felt different. I worked hard to find a non-stop flight (we couldn't have her stranded in, say, Atlanta if her connecting flight fell through), but even that didn't completely set my mind at ease.

She was thrilled to be heading off to a creative writing residency and didn't seem nervous at all until it was time for us to part so she could go through security. Suddenly, the idea of hanging out alone for an hour or so before boarding became overwhelming and she got a little teary. This was completely unfair. Now I had to suck it up and be the calm, reassuring grown up. I hate when that happens.

I'm happy to report that she arrived without a hitch 10 minutes ahead of schedule, and called me shortly after she deplaned, chatty and cheerful in the custody of her grandparents. I have yet to recover.

Just in case you were wondering, as I often do, here is Orville Wright's concise explanation of the phenomenon of flight: "The airplane stays up because it doesn't have time to fall." Don't you feel better?

Have any fabulous travel plans this summer — flying or driving? Click here to air your qualms or share your tips.

Photo credit: Sunset wing by maliavale via flickr.com.

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Bedtime Tips

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who are good at putting kids to bed and those who aren't.

If bedtime was a credit course at Mom School, I would be teaching at the graduate level. Did you know lack of sleep puts children at risk for a variety of mental and physical problems? But bedtime doesn't have to be a nightmare. The following post on how you can get your child into a good bedtime routine, improve everyone's mood and reduce family stress, was originally posted on HubPages.

I Give Good Bed
Around these parts, I am known as the Queen of Bedtime. In fact, my bedtime prowess even led to a new friendship. Some years ago, a woman I knew of but had never met, called me and said: “I heard a rumor that your kids are in bed by eight o’clock.”

“No,” I replied.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” she lamented.

“My kids are in bed by 7:30,” I said, “they’re asleep by 8:00.”

I told her my techniques and exactly one week later she called to say: “It worked! You’re my new best friend and I’m taking you out to dinner!” We have been best friends ever since.

Why Do Children Need Regular Bedtimes?
In today’s fast-paced world, developing and sticking to a regular bedtime seems like a Herculean task. We are all so busy with work and lessons and play dates and school that bedtime is often defined as the time when we finally get our children into bed. But studies have shown that children who don’t get adequate rest are at risk for a multitude of mental and physical problems, including:

• Depression
• Increased rates of injury
• Behavioral problems and learning difficulties
• Excessive worry
• Obesity Increased rates of tardiness and absence from school
• Aggression
• Headaches and stomachaches
• And, ironically, insomnia

When you consider that sleep deprivation has been used throughout history as a form of torture, it’s not surprising that a lack of sleep can cause all these problems and more. For most parents, all you have to do is recall those early days of your child’s infancy to bring back the horrors of sleep deprivation — the headaches, moodiness, feelings of disorientation and, often, despair. It’s no different for your children.

How Much Sleep Do Children Need?
According to Michael J. Breus, PhD, a diplomat of the American Board of Sleep Medicine in Westchester, IL, the amount of sleep varies depending on the age of the child:

• 1-3 years : 12 - 14 hours per day
• 3-6 years: 10 ¾ - 12 hours per day
• 7-12 years: 10 - 11 hours per day
• 12-18 years: 8 ¼ - 9 ½ hours per day

Some children need more sleep than others. Learn to recognize the signs that your child is not getting enough sleep:

• Irritability or frequent tantrums
• Excessive daytime sleepiness
• Changes in mood or behavior
• Snoring (which can be a sign of sleep apnea — a sometimes dangerous condition where people stop breathing for short periods when sleeping)

Sleep Habits are Learned Behaviors
Though sleep can be defined as “a natural and periodic state of rest during which consciousness of the world is suspended”, good sleep habits are learned, not born. In his seminal guide to children and sleep, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, Marc Weissbluth, MD, explains in detail the importance of developing good sleep habits in your child right from the start.
Let’s be clear: short of drugs, you can’t make someone fall asleep. Sleeping is a private, personal matter. Giving your children the tools they need to soothe themselves into a restful night’s sleep is a gift that will last a lifetime.

How to Make Bedtime Work for You
My family is no exception to the modern phenomenon of being overscheduled, but we strive to make missed bedtimes the exception, not the rule. When my teenagers moan that their friends don’t have bedtimes, I remind them that I am not their friends’ mom; I am their mom. I have known my children their whole lives and I can tell when they are not getting enough sleep.

I would like to claim that I have been a paragon of bedtime virtue right from the start, but in my case, necessity was the mother of invention. When my preemie twins came home from the hospital, my husband had just started a new business and was working crazy long hours, including every evening and every weekend. By 7:30 p.m., I was completely done, so I developed our first bedtime routine. It was the only way I could survive.

Set Up a Routine and Stick To It
Routine is the key to successful bedtimes. The goal should be to wind down the day to a quiet place that invites sleep.

Explain the Rules — We can’t expect children to obey rules they don’t know or understand. If your family has developed bad bedtime habits, don’t despair. Just decide on your new routine and lay it out for your kids. Ideally, you should do this first thing in the morning, but definitely not right before bedtime. Use the voice of an outside authority (lie if you have to): “Dr. So-and-so believes we are not getting enough sleep in this family, so starting tonight we are going to have a new bedtime routine.”

Be clear and thorough: What time will you start getting ready for bed? What time is “lights out”? What will the consequences be for not obeying the new rules?

Kids Take Their Cues from You, So Set the Tone — Most of your kids’ attitudes about sleeping and bedtime will come from you. When my children were very little and only understood facial and verbal cues, I would sing our way up the stairs to bed, smiling and cheering: “Guess what time it is — every mama’s favorite time of day — bedtime!” For many years, they were naïve enough to cheer right along with me.

Whenever my children are away from home for even one night, when it comes time for bed I always whisper some reinforcing words in their ears, like: “I’m glad you had fun at your sleepover, but doesn’t if feel great to be home in your own wonderful bed.” They almost always smile and snuggle in more deeply.

Help Your Child Identify a Portable, Safe Transitional Item — “Transitional item” is just a fancy word for a “woobie” or a “lovey” or a “blankie” — a stuffed animal or blanket-like object that your child can use to comfort himself. Some children identify their transitional item early on; others want to take the whole menagerie of stuffed animals into bed with them. It’s best to have just one (a few a most). One of my sons used a cloth diaper, which was great, because we had tons of them and they were interchangeable. My other children had one-of-a-kind items that were not replaceable, but worked for them (Skanky Blankie, Itchy Rainbow Blankie, Honey Bunny and Pooh Bear are all adopted members of our family).

Remove the Obvious Obstacles to Bedtime — Most of these are pretty obvious:

• don’t give your kids caffeine.
• try to stick to quiet activities in the hour before bedtime.
• don’t take phone calls or get involved in projects at bedtime; if you get distracted, so will your kids and the next thing you know, you’ll have to start the whole process over again.
• turn off the TV (and other screens, such as video games and computers) at least a half hour before bedtime. Fast-paced television programs can act as stimulants, and scary programs can lead to nightmares or a fear of them.
• cut back on excessive activities. This is probably the hardest thing to do at first — learning to say no to some fabulous opportunity for your child to learn or experience something new. But over scheduling can lead to postponed bedtimes and interrupted routines.

Don’t use bedtime as a form of punishment — I believe children should think of their beds as the safest, most comfortable, most wonderful place in the world. To this end, I never use early bedtime as punishment. I may say: “It seems to me that you are very tired today, so we are going to get an early start to make sure you get to bed on time.” I don’t send my children to their bedrooms for time out discipline, either. I may say: “It seems to me that you could use some time alone. Why don’t you go play in your room until you are ready to rejoin the family.”

Take care of business before bed — Make sure your children brush their teeth, get a drink and use the bathroom before you tuck them into bed. Take the “bathroom” question out of the equation. If your child is old enough to use the bathroom alone, she is old enough to do it without asking questions. Simply say: “If you have to go, go, but then get right back into bed.”

Limit Bedtime Stories — I believe in reading to your children, but in our house, a bedtime story means one story — my choice. Why just one? Negotiation is the death knell of a smooth bedtime. Once you start negotiating, you are doomed. Like the true predators they are, sleepy children can smell fear and will attack if they spot slightest sign of weakness. Pick another time of day to enrich your child with story telling. One bedtime story is enough to help your child settle down for the night.

The Answer is “No” — I tell my children that I am a great mama (OK, slight exaggeration) until bedtime. I will listen to them, answer their questions and try to say “yes” whenever it is reasonable and safe. After bedtime, the answer to any question they have is “no”.

• “Can I have some juice?” No.
• “Can I read with a flashlight?” No.
• “Can I go to college?” No, not tonight, go to sleep.

If you have a quick-witted child like my youngest, you need to be prepared for the inevitable smart-aleck question: “If the answer to any question is ‘no’, does that me I don’t have to go back to bed now?”

A smart-aleck question deserves a smart-aleck answer: “I’m sorry, but the answer center is closed. Please check back in the morning, and be sure to ask for your consequence for getting out of bed.”

Keep the Transition Short — Once you have read your one bedtime story, keep the hugs and kisses, goodnight wishes, and tucks brief. Beware of stall tactics, such as:

• “Mom, what was your favorite story when you were little?”
• “Mom, where do babies come from?
• “Mom, what if I hate college and can’t find a job?”

Believe it or not, my children have tried all of these. Kids can be sneaky little varmints, so I had to hone my skills and learn to recognize a wide variety of procrastination techniques. The solution for almost of them is simple: “Honey, I’d be happy to talk about this with you — tomorrow. Good night.”

The Ultimate Bedtime Secret
I absolutely swear by this one: stories on tape (or CD or iPod download). This is much better than letting your kid read in bed because she can do it in the dark. The rule is that they can listen to as many stories or chapters as they want as long as they stay in bed. If they get out of bed or start fooling around, the audio player gets taken away. For most kids, listening to a story in the dark while snuggled warmly in bed will help them fall asleep in short order.

Stories for every age and every taste are available in audio format, with more titles being added every day. My kids loved the Rabbit Ears Radio. Audio books can be expensive, but most public libraries have a good selection, or considering setting up a swap among your friends.

Common Bedtime Mistakes
I have given this advice to many people over the years, and most have had success with it. Occasionally, however, it doesn’t work and this is usually the result of substituting one bad routine with another. For example, one woman I knew decided that her new bedtime routine would include either her or her husband laying down with their child until he fell asleep. It’s true that the kid stayed in bed, but she didn’t learn to fall asleep on her own.
One other mistake that parents make is trying to adopt a routine that is too long or difficult to maintain. Keep it simple. Do what works for your family, and don’t be afraid to change the routine if it isn’t working.

Better Bedtimes Mean Happier Families
Once you get bedtime under control, you will experience a noticeable drop in your household stress level. Bedtime will no longer be a tug of war, but rather a satisfying ending to the day. I guarantee that a better bedtime will make you happier mom or dad.
These tips worked for me (most of the time). Let me know if they work for you. And, if you are so moved, please feel free to send me a gift certificate to your favorite restaurant.
Photo credits: Starry Night (top) by Drennen; Bedtime Story by greypoint, both via flickr.com.

Photo credit: Boogie Asleep by Jennifer Gensch via a Creative Commons License

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How Not to Hate Exercise

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have more than one blog and those who don't. I have started contributing to HubPages.com. HubPages hosts bloggers and writers interested in posting information-based articles, such as advice, how-tos and reviews.

My first HubPage post talks about two kinds of people (of course!) — those who like exercise and those who don't, and how I am trying to change from one to the other. You can check it out by clicking here or on the title of this blog post. 

Happy Independence Day! Hope your celebration is full full of lots of ooohs and aaaahs.

Photo credit: exercises by jeanner at flickr.com

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Twice Cream

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who like ice cream and those who don't.

OK, I've never actually met anyone who doesn't like ice cream, except this one guy who said he could take it or leave it. Maybe he was having personal problems — or perhaps he was lactose intolerant.

Tantalizing in taste, texture and temperature, there is something almost unbearably sensual about ice cream. It starts as a creamy solid and melts slowly, extravagantly around your tongue, releasing its sweetness and the secrets of its more delicate flavors into your mouth.

I'll never forget the look on my daughter's face when she first tasted ice cream as a toddler. Initially shocked and confused, she puckered her lips against the sudden cold. As the rich chocolate seeped through, her eyes widened in delight and her mouth parted into an eager smile, little hands reaching for the cone.

Frozen desserts have been tempting us for thousands of years. Nero (A.D. 37-68) was a fan of ice flavored with honey and fruit, and there is some evidence that the Chinese created the first iced dairy delicacy. America has literally grown up on ice cream; both Washington and Jefferson were known for serving it to their guests and our first public ice cream parlor opened in New York in 1776.

Ice cream represents democracy at its best. Price points range from about 50 cents for kid-friendly pushups to thousand dollar sundaes served in a crystal goblet with an 18-carat gold spoon at Manhattan's Serendipity 3. Ice cream flavors have been designed to meet the needs of every personality and mood: from traditional vanilla, fruity strawberry and nutty Rocky Road, to abstract Blue Moon and even exotic wasabi.

What makes ice cream ice cream? While many desserts are made from its key ingredients of cream, milk, sugar and flavorings, to be labeled "ice cream" according to the International Dairy Foods Association (IFDA), the confection in question must contain at least 10% milk fat and weigh at least 4.5 pounds per gallon.

Frozen custard is the same as ice cream, but also contains at least 1.4% egg yolk. Sherbet has between 1-2% milk fat and slightly more sweetener than ice cream. The Italian version, gelato, differs in that it usually has more intense flavor and is served semi-frozen. Sorbet, the oldest form of frozen dessert, contains no dairy and is made of sweetened ice flavored with fruit, chocolate, wine or liqueur. Frozen yogurt is exactly what it says — frozen yogurt.

For my taste, Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk® is the best of the best. To date, Oink's Dutch Treat in New Buffalo, Michigan is my favorite ice cream parlor. Offering 55 flavors, Oink's make it hard to choose (try the cherry with chocolate flakes). 

Perhaps it's no coincidence that I have landed in Evanston, IL, a town that lays claim to naming the ice cream sundae (duking it out with Ithaca, NY and Two Rivers, WI for the bragging rights). In a cup or a cone, in a sundae or alone, ice cream may be the perfect food — except the part where it's bad for your diet … and your cholesterol … and your thighs.

Here's where living in Evanston meets my needs in a whole new way. The other day, my girl friend called and said: "Pick me up. I need frozen yogurt." Why bother, I thought. "This stuff is the best," she said, reading my mind, "and only 90 calories for a small." I have assiduously avoided the nutrition information on Ben & Jerry cartons, but for the purposes of this essay, I thought I better do the research. Those who don't want to know should skip on down to the next paragraph. New York Super Fudge Chunk contains 300 calories per 1/2 cup serving. Yikes.

So, we went to the new frozen yogurt place in town, Red Mango™. It was two minutes to closing and the place was mobbed. I looked up at the menu to discover that they offer only two flavors — original and green tea. The cynic in me could barely justify a late night dessert run that did not include chocolate, but since my friend was buying, I tried a small original with fresh raspberries.

Look out, B&J, I may have found a new home. Curiously satisfying, this treat offers all the fun of ice cream for less than a third of the caloric price. It has a little bit of sour mixed with the sweet, and you can add fresh fruit, as well as some weird dry toppings (Fruity Pebbles, anyone?). It even claims to be good for you, containing no artificial anything and something called probiotics, credited with improving digestive health and the immune system.

So, if you're lucky enough to live in Illinois, California, Nevada, New Jersey, New York, Oregon, Utah or Washington, then get yourself to Red Mango (unless you live in Evanston; then you should stay home, because the line is already too long). I know it sounds like I've gone over to the dark side, but this is a true ice cream lover talking, so you can trust me.

If you're drooling over your keyboard now, you may be happy to learn that July is National Ice Cream Month and that, this year, National Ice Cream Day will be celebrated on Sunday, July 20. Click here to let me know how you plan to celebrate.

Photo credit: Ice Cream Cone ~ 8 scoops + 3 Diamond Rings by Tiffany by Prayitno via a Creative Commons license. 

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This Posting is a Nut Free (well, almost)

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have allergies and those who don't.

To the allergy free, salute. To the more than 20 percent of you who are allergy sufferers, I can only say that I feel your pain.

My big allergy bugaboo is insect bites. Mosquitoes are my nemesis. A single bite from this malevolent creature weighing less than three milligrams brings on a huge, hot-to-the-touch welt that lasts more than a week, often accompanied by water blisters, nausea, dizziness and a general sense of malaise. It's not fun.

But as much as I hate these little buggers, it seems they love me. I have been hunted down in my own bed, through layers of blankets and clothing and repellents. In February. In Chicago. My blood is the Chateau Lafite Rothschild of the mosquito world — ripe, spicy, with a particular softness, firm yet delicate and supple, developing a great elegance with age (or so claim the tasting notes reported by the Family Culicidae).

I know members of the Mosquito Protection Society will start violent protests over this, but it is my fervent wish that every mosquito will drop dead tomorrow (along with their unwanted, unhatched offspring). I promise the frogs will not all croak and the rain forests will not fall without them. Mosquitoes have been around for more than 30 million years and have killed more human beings than any other creature in history (think yellow fever, malaria). Now we've got to worry about the West Nile Virus and, given how attractive I am to these disease-carrying vermin, it is a scientific fact that I am now a gazillion times more likely to die an untimely death. To add insult to injury, this is girl-on-girl violence, as only the female mosquito stings (bitch!).

As annoying as they are, insect bites are not the only allergy that plagues our family. We run the gamut from dust mite to food allergies, with symptoms that include asthma, eczema, chronic sinusitis and anaphylaxis. Last fall, we discovered that our youngest boy, the family gourmand, is allergic to shellfish. (Could this be a sign that our nice Jewish family should start keeping kosher? Nah.) He was incensed over the diagnosis: "What do you mean, no more calamari? A squid does not have a shell." True, but calamari, squid and octopus all fall under the category of shellfish when it comes to allergies.

Shellfish is an easier allergy to manage than, say, peanuts because it is easier to predict where it might show up, but it's still a pain. We have joined the ranks of label readers and EpiPen® owners, forced to carry it with us wherever we go. We have to watch for cross-contamination and "hidden" ingredients at restaurants. For example, my husband and I recently took this child out for a special meal, just the three of us, at Froggy's. He initially ordered salmon with bell pepper sauce (the boy likes to eat), only to be told that the sauce was made with clam juice. You just never know.

The other day, this same child came to me with his eyes puffed up like a vanquished boxer. He hadn't had any shellfish, so now it's back to the allergist to start the whole scratch-testing process over again.

I recognize that having an allergy is not the end of the world. Modern medicine has given us many ways to protect ourselves and manage these allergies. All except one — my severe allergy to exercise. I wonder when they'll develop an effective immunotherapy for that one. Sign me up for the clinical trial. 

So, as long as you're not allergic to a nut like me, why don't you leave a comment by clicking here.

Photo credit: Wooooooooo … by CharlesLam via Flickr.com.

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The Best Words

 There are two kinds of people in the world: those who write poetry and those who don't.

Forgive my boast, but I am a great business writer. I can whip up a newsletter that will make you weep. I'm working hard on my creative writing, as well, learning everything I can and then revising, revising, revising … But, I'm no poet.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge defined prose as words in their best order, and poetry as the best words in the best order. I like this definition. 

I admit to being a little intimidated by poetry. I used to feel that I was missing the point. Recently, I have learned to take poetry as it comes — ponder it, enjoy it (or not) and accept it for what it means to me.

My favorite poet is Van Morrison (OK, songwriter, but now you're just picking nits):

We were born before the wind

Also younger than the sun

Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic

Hark, now hear the sailors cry

Smell the sea and feel the sky

Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic

I'm also a big Ogden Nash fan — you know, the poet who penned these seven immortal words:

Candy is dandy

But liquor is quicker.

Granted, it does sound a bit like a jingle for the Distilled Spirits Council of the United States (discus.org), but you can't deny that this little ditty conveys a beautiful truth with a stunning economy of language.

My friend Alice George is a real, live poet. And it turns out that real, live poets are even better than the famous dead kind because, in addition to enriching us with their own best words in their best order, they can teach and inspire the poetry in others. Such was the case for the first-through-fifth graders (including two of my own) who were lucky enough to have Alice as artist in residence at our elementary school this spring.

At one of the culminating events of the residency, Alice led an open mic poetry night at an awesome new(ish) performance/learning venue in Evanston called Boocoo. I was bitter with envy both exhilarated and humbled by the poetry created and performed by these children, who seem able to reach deep into their souls to describe the world with an exactitude and lyricism that eludes my poetry. (Be excited, OCWW members — Alice is on the docket for next semester.)

On past poetry nights, Alice has invited grownups to participate, but this night was just for the children. Since I have never been accused of being a grownup, I decided to share my poem anyway:

The Tantrum

Just a few missed warning signs
Before the blast
The fierce flash of light
The sonic boom.

The toxic fallout of the mushroom cloud
Envelops everything in sight.
No one is safe.

Soft tissue mottles over
Writhing muscles
Twisting and contorting the familiar
Into something unrecognizable.

Ugliness oozes from each pore
As rage pours from every visible orifice.
The genie is out of the bottle now.
Pandora is out of the box.
It’s too late for a cork or a levee or a bunker.

It’s in motion now
Careening violently
Sucking in every object and subject
In its vengeful path.

Just be still
Ride out the storm
Wait for the rain
Hope for the best.

A brief respite
Full of false hope.
All hearts pound as
The storm feeds on itself.

The banging of the shutters slows
To a more predictable beat
But the damage is done.
The family landscape is scarred again.

Finally, there is quiet
Not peace, just exhaustion.

Pulses steady
As survivors venture forth
Tiptoeing carefully on those eggshells
Lest the wrathful beast reawaken.

A final gust of tainted wind
Jarring but not dangerous
Shudders with uncomfortable regret:
"Sorry, guys, Mama is just having a bad day.

If, like my brother, you think my poem is cute but trite, slam me with a scathing couplet by clicking here; or give me an ode for effort. Better yet, try your hand at a poem of your own.

Photo credit: night poetry by kechambers via flickr.com.

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