The Family Beat

By NICHOLE DUPONT

It's Friday night...again. School is done, work is over and all is well save for the glaring space of three hours. 

That's right, nobody knows what to do but everybody is ready to do something, anything, to commemorate the end of a hard week. It's tough to come to a consensus, at least in my little trio, because all of us want different things. Plus, there is the money factor. I don't know if you've noticed but dinner and a movie for a family of three can run right around $100, give or take, and that certainly isn't in the budget. 

So what can you do on a Friday night that everyone can enjoy?

Well, there is always movie night. And by movie, I am not talking about Barbie whatever or yet another Veggie Tales film. Something witty and right on the edge of inappropriate; kids love that stuff and so do parents. A few of my favorites are classics from my own childhood such as the "Star Wars" trilogy, "The Goonies," "Gremlins," "Labyrinth," "The Princess Bride," basically anything from the 1980s for kids was pretty awesome. Oh yeah, and anything Muppets-related is sure to gather a laugh, just for the pure strangeness of it all. My children (ages 7 and 10) also recommend "Harry Potter," "How to Train Your Dragon," "The Simpsons Movie" and "Rio." 

If you want to get really creative, in addition to watching the films you can center the evening around a movie theme. For instance, we are particular fans of "Elf" and have been known to wear Santa hats and eat pancakes while watching this hilarious family favorite.

Please also note that Netflix is a godsend and that on any given weekend a marathon of "American Chopper" episodes is not entirely out of the question.

Another good way to wind down is Game Night. We each pick our favorite board game, or, in my case, card game, and play a round while munching on semi-junk food. Everyone has specific game tastes, and while "Trivial Pursuit" might be a little over the top for kids, "Loser Takes All," "Battleship" and chess are pretty good bets for keeping everyone engaged.

You don't always have to stay in either. For under $50 you can all head out to the local bowling alley and have some fun there while learning a new skill and not crawling out of your skin. And bowling doesn't necessarily have to be the highlight of Family Bowl night. Most alleys also come equipped with pool tables and good ol' fashioned arcade games in which shooting zombies can provide hours of entertainment.

Let's not forget the all-American past time of pizza. In our case, it's make your own pizza. For about $15 you can get two pre-made pizza dough balls at your local grocery store, along with a can or two of tomato paste if you absolutely need the sauce, some mozzarella and whatever else you can fit on a custom pizza. Of course, my son always picks pepperoni and my daughter always fills up a small deli container with calamata olives. Then the fun begins. Yeah, it can be messy, but nothing beats a delicious home-grown pie with an olive smile and pepperoni eyes.

The outdoors can also provide miles of entertainment. Even in the winter months, a campfire, a clear sky and some hot chocolate are all it takes to make an evening of Mother Nature. You can even download a star gazer app to your phone and try to have everyone identify the constellations. We sometimes rename them for the sake of memory and humor. The Big Dipper is the Giant Poop Scoop, and so on and so forth.

Granted, it's nice to go out and spend money on a delicious meal and watch a movie at the theater and eat popcorn, but there are all kinds of ways to have fun on the cheap and without a babysitter. In fact, last winter, one of the best times we had was going to a friend's house (she has kids and no money, too) and shooting balloons with an air rifle. Each of us, adults included, took turns at the makeshift "range" while the others warmed up with hot chocolate and coffee by the camp fire. 

There is no price on the good times to be had with family and friends. The kids will remember it more than if you treated them to a five star meal.

By NICHOLE DUPONT

A few weeks ago, my kids and I were negotiating the decorating of the Christmas tree. We had traditional holiday tunes blaring, the tea was hot and the fresh scent of spruce wood filled the air. The ornaments survived for the most part, but it wasn't until my 8-year-old son, Lucian, pulled the tiny porcelain creche set out that I felt as if something was definitely amiss.

"Which one is Jesus," my son asked. I thought he was kidding.

"What? The baby in the hay," I said, amazed.

"And Mary?"

"The lady with the blue cloak," I said. I was now fully engaged in this line of conversation.

"Who is Mary anyway? And Joseph? Is that Jesus's uncle or something?"

This stopped me in my tracks. My son, who was about to celebrate his eighth Christmas on this earth, had no idea what Christmas even was. I turned to my daughter for help.

"You know the story of Jesus's birth, right?"

She smiled nervously, saying, "Um, kind of. I mean not the whole thing but I get the point."

Get the point?! I don't think, actually I am sure, that it was their lack of knowledge about the birth of the Messiah that had me so stunned, but that they did not understand the spiritual significance of the birth of Christ, which meant they had no idea that Easter is not a holiday recognizing the bunny or that Hanukkah isn't just about chocolate coins and betting your odds against a wooden top. None of these events, no matter how "huge" in our culture really carried any weight with them, save that presents were on the way.

I am ashamed. I consider myself a very spiritual person in most regards. I pray every day, I say "thank you" for good fortune and lessons learned, I am mesmerized by the beauty of the night sky. So how did this happen? And what can be done? I don't want to force my children to attend church, but in the same breath, I want them to know and feel that love and community that comes from knowing that there is something greater, much greater, than ourselves.

Amidst my horror at this discovery, I am reassured. Mostly by the fact that children, among all people, are the most spiritual of creatures because they live in the present moment. Their minds are not bogged down by the drudgery that we adults carry with us wherever we go. In fact, I would venture to say that kids are the true "true believers." They still think magically and they believe in events and miracles that they have never seen. And, of course, kids are creatures of emotion, they think how they feel and are capable of great joy, profound sorrow and complete forgiveness.

After a little search in the soul cabinet of our home, I was somewhat relieved to find that we did have some spirituality going on here, just not necessarily consistent and certainly not conventional. For instance, I ask my son every morning, "What do you have to look forward to today?" and every morning he needs to think about where it is he will find joy. Of course, his answers are pretty secular--recess, lunch, dessert, the sun--but he's on his way. My daughter is a little more cognizant of the "unknown" and is famous for her hyper-awareness to "presences" and the like. She is not afraid of these "ghostly" beings but is very curious about who they are and where they are in the universe. I try not to impose my grown-up doubt on her sixth sense, because really, who knows anything for sure.

If anything, in teaching our children about spirituality (call it God or god or the universe or whatever you like) we are really learning about ourselves. When they ask probing questions it forces us to dig deep to figure out the answers to those questions, and trust me, there aren't any books to consult when it comes to your own, personal, spirituality.

In the meantime, Lucian has an egg-shaped moonstone that he keeps with him at all times claiming that it calms him. Anna believes firmly in angels and sub-angels and animal spirits. I wish I could say that I was as firmly rooted as they, but that is a lesson I am looking forward to learning with a little help from the ??????? upstairs.

By NICHOLE DUPONT

With the recent, disturbing news out of Penn State, the issue of sexual abuse has reemerged as a topic of great concern to the nation as a whole. This is not to say that the sexual exploitation of children in this country has diminished since the Catholic church scandal not too long ago. 

Sexual abuse is rampant in the U.S., and, I daresay, around the world. According to a 2000 study by the National Center for Victims of Crime, 33 percent of girls in this country (that's 1 in 3) have been sexually abused before the age of 18 followed by a 16 percent (that's 1 in 6) ratio for boys. Additionally, the U.S. Department of Justice reports that a whopping 67 percent of all sexual assault victims are children. 

As the mother of two young children, these numbers in this predatory climate, are nothing short of devastating. And that's not the worst of it. In many, if not most, cases of sexual abuse in children, the perpetrators are people that the children know and trust--a relative, a babysitter, a family friend, even a mentor.

The bottom line, is that it's difficult in this day and age to protect your child. I tend to err on the side of major caution, this means no sleepovers or even play dates without Mom. Even at big picnics and/or family functions I make sure that I have a bead on both kids at all times. No, it is not relaxing, yes, people give me a hard time about my strict rules and no, I will not be lightening up any time soon. To me, the greatest tragedy of a child's life is the loss of childhood, especially at the hands of a supposed loved one.

I talk to my kids, too. These conversations are not easy, not for me, not for my kids. What I say to my daughter, who is almost 11, is very different from what I say to my son, now 8. But the gist is the same in each case. First and foremost, I tell them that even adults whom they know, and trust, are not to be touching them. This often leads to a plethora of questions.

"Well, what about when Nana gives me a hug?"

"Perfectly fine," I say. "And Papa and Dad and Mom and even your teacher might want to give you a hug, and that's OK."

The conversation continues and I try to remain patient for all of the questions. We go over (sometimes with painstaking repetition because my son is "that kid") what are appropriate circumstances for an adult to be touching a child. Basically, it's at the doctor's office with Mom or Dad in the room, or hugs from grandparents. But, I always remind my kids that they don't have to hug ANYBODY. If they feel uncomfortable, a simple handshake, I tell them, is just fine.

Since they are both old enough now to know what parts of the body are off limits in terms of "private areas," the conversation moves on to trust. In this case, that they can trust me, at any time, to tell me anything, even if they think it's weird or uncomfortable. I reiterate time and again that if anyone ever does do something that makes them feel uncomfortable, or that's just weird, that they can tell me and they will not, under any circumstances, be in trouble. I think just knowing that has opened a door by which my kids can, and do, tell me everything.

It may come up, one day in one of these conversations, that there has been an incident. 

And while I know in my head that I will already be planning a homicide, it is very important to keep calm and ask your child a few questions without showing anger or grilling them for hours. Just listen closely, as in all things, and make sure that they know that you are there to protect them and that you are proud of them for telling you.

And remember, addressing sexual abuse is an ongoing dialogue between you and your child. You don't just have a sit-down on the couch after dinner one night and that's it. As they change, as their circumstances change, you need to check in with them constantly, without giving them the third degree. It will never be a comfortable topic, but that should not prevent you from approaching it.

Children are trusting of adults, and in a "normal" world, that is a good instinct to have. However, in this day and age, it may be the thing that we need to un-teach them, sadly, to preserve their childhood.

By NICHOLE DUPONT

When my daughter was a toddler, she was, by all standards, an omnivore. To my dismay this diet included stray pennies and the occasional shoe lace end, but it also, to my delight, included some pretty daring foods, even by adult standards. She was the easy kid, I could take her to any restaurant and put whatever I was eating in front of her and she would at least give it a fearless go. Once, she lapped up Vietnamese curried scallops as if they were graham crackers and then cried when the plate was empty. Being a culinary "sky-diver" I could not hide my delight in what I thought was my daughter following in her mother's footsteps.

You can imagine my surprise when my son did not follow suit. From the beginning, he was a picky fellow. I mean picky about everything--loud noises, fluorescent lights, any cheese other than American. The transition from preparing spinach with lemon zest and pine nuts to steamed carrots and chicken was, in short, devastating.

"Why can't he just try the Jarlsberg?" I asked myself a million times.

For the last few years (eight to be exact) our dinner explorations have become a fine balance between nutrition, taste and "comfort." Lately, however, I have been adding more "risky" foods to our diets, meaning unconventional veggies, meats and even desserts prepped in unconventional ways. While my kids still have things they absolutely will not eat (for my daughter, it's brussel sprout, for my son, peppers) they are more willing than ever to try new things. In fact, just last week, I left an open container of boquerones (Spanish anchovies, sooo goood) out in the kitchen only to find that my son, in between Monopoly moves, was pounding two or three of the little buggers back at a time and sharking some pecorino cheese to go with it. My first instinct was to sweep him up in a great hug and teach him the use of all of the different spices in the house. I resisted, and asked him coolly what he thought of the "little fish."

"Really good," he said while licking his fingers clean. "They smell like the beach."

Even little miss pre-teen enjoyed the fishy find, proud of her cheese selection from the local cheesemonger, which is fast becoming her favorite haunt.

Here are some tips for coaxing kids out on a food limb:

--Don't hide stuff. Kids aren't fools, they know when they're eating a tofu pup over a hot dog.

--Don't make a big deal when they try something different. A simple "What did you think about that?" will suffice.

--Let the kids into the kitchen. Allowing them to be part of the preparation process gives value and meaning to the foods that they eat. Plus, they tend to "pick" at what's being prepared. My son has been known to eat whole cloves of raw garlic. I try to steer him away from the raw eggs, though.

--Give them food freedom. Let your kids have access to healthy snacks whenever they want, this can mean keeping raw carrots in a low drawer, apples and pears in a bowl on the table and cheeses of all kinds at the ready.

--If a kid doesn't like something, don't force feed him or use manipulation to make him eat it. This means not using the television as leverage for eating his peas. Food should in no way be seen as a punishment.

--Give a little. A little chocolate, a little gelato, a little popcorn. Kids like treats just as much as adults do, so after a hard week at school, they deserve a cookie just like I deserve a mocha drenched espresso treat.

--Don't give up. Keep introducing new things and reintroducing old rejects, you never know when your child will suddenly decide that s/he loves fresh mozzarella or Spanish anchovies or even a tomato on a bagel.

By NICHOLE DUPONT

By tonight's (Oct. 31) end, Halloween, the commercial version, will be over. Children will have counted their loot, parents will have snagged a few peanut butter cups, and all that is left of the great masquerade will be a month's supply of candy that will dwindle in the cupboards. Then, on to Thanksgiving and the whirlwind winter holidays. Yet, there is a day that is not often celebrated in our culture, but that reigns supreme over millions of people across the globe.

El Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is NOT the Spanish version of Halloween, not quite. With ancient roots, and some Catholic modification, usually it is celebrated on Nov. 2 every year. In Mexico, particularly, this day has significant meaning as it is a remembrance of all of those who have passed away, leaving the living to mourn and celebrate.

Yes, there are costumes. Extravagant costumes and head dresses and spooky skeletal faces. Yes, there are parties and wild parades through dark streets. But the root of El Dia De Los Muertos lies in the memories that it conjures. Graves are cleaned and decorated and toys are offered up for the souls of dead children just as alcohol and food are offered up for adults long gone. Perhaps the most compelling element of this sometimes sombre, sometimes humorous holiday is the altar that each household creates in honor of loved ones and family members. Just as food and drink are shared so too are the memories of those who have passed. People gather to share their fondest thoughts about Auntie so-and-so and Grandpa and Mother and the time little brother played a trick on the whole family. These warm anecdotes are complimented by poems (calaveras) and epitaphs written about friends and family members. And, of course, there are the famed sugar skulls that adorn altars and tables, all symbolic of the humility and contemplation that death brings to the living.

We have our own celebration here with our little family of three in which my children light candles at the dining table and we eat a meal that was the favorite of my grandmother, usually either baked beans or lasagna coupled with an apple or pumpkin pie for dessert. During the meal, the kids will ask me about my friends and family who have passed. They are particularly interested in the tales of my father's mother, Anna, and her never-ending patience with my mischievous father. Or they will ask me about my friends, those lost too soon, and how we, as youngsters, would wade, half-naked, through frozen streams or build giant bonfires and recite Poe's "The Raven," while chowing down on chili prepared in an underground bed of coals.

While this day has little significance in American culture, it is one that my children look forward to, if only to have a space to talk, without hushed tones, about our grief and our love for those that we miss so terribly, even as the years pass.