What's a Guy to Do?

For the first time in more years than I can remember, I'm an empty nester.  My kids tracked out from school on Friday, so that night, my wife took them to New England to stay with her parents for the week.  Tomorrow night, she'll return by herself so that we can enjoy some peace and quiet (and some good food) by ourselves to celebrate out tenth anniversary.  But in the meantime, I've got no responsibilities!  So, I ask "What's a Guy to Do?" Should I drink myself into oblivion?  Should I eat McDonald's and Dunkin Donuts for every meal?  Can I sleeping until 11am and go to sleep at three in the morning?

No to all of the above!  It's 7:42am on Sunday and I've already been up for an hour, let the dog out, cleaned up a bit, and now I'm writing a blog post.  After almost eight years of steady wake up calls from screaming babies, then crawling toddlers, and now demanding children, it's pretty much a certainty that this body isn't ever going to sleep late again.

So I'm up, but I should be vegging on the couch, right?  Well, yet again, after all this time paying bills, mowing lawns, grocery shopping, and simply cleaning up behind everyone else in this house, I'm prepared to face the facts that I'm a doer.  If I'm not getting stuff done, I'm thinking about getting stuff done.  So, as they say in these parts, let's just get 'er done.

The good news is that while much of what I've been doing is chores, I'm also focusing this weekend on two of my three passions, while my other passion (my kids) goes lobster fishing.  I was supposed to play golf last night at an outdoor par three course under the lights, but the summer of rain was prevalent once again, so that didn't happen.  But it did give me time to watch Argo, which I had been dying to see.  Good choice by the way.  And it gave me more time to cook up creamed corn for the first time, alongside a stuffed burger I picked up at Whole Foods.

Here's the recipe for the corn (single serving), which was rich and delicious:

Cut off the kernels from two raw ears of corn.  Melt 1 tablespoon of butter on medium-high heat, then add kernels and 1/2 tablespoon of flour.  Cook for five minutes, stirring frequently.  Whisk in 1 cup of milk and a few tablespoons of cream cheese.  Simmer on a low boil for 10 minutes, stirring often until it's thickened.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  I also added a few dashes of Habanero hot sauce.

I'm going to pause here for about 12 hours and finish writing the rest of this post tonight, after I've cooked up a few more delicious meals.  See you soon...

And I'm back.  Did you miss me?  Ok, so today was a cooking and dish washing fest.  I started off by making hash browns using red potatoes and a chili pepper from our garden topped with two sunny-side up eggs and bacon, all cooked, of course, in the bacon fat.

While I had that cooking, I made a batch of tomato sauce with balsamic vinegar using several pints of freshly picked cherry tomatoes, also from our garden.  

Then, once I had chowed down on my breakfast, I baked up two Amish cinnamon breads from a starter my wife had gotten from one of her co-workers a few weeks back.  This is actually the second round of breads we've made, so we'll see if mine comes out as good as my wife's did.  After all that, I took a break to let my pruney hands recover from all the dishes I had to wash.  Thank goodness we have a super wide, deep sink!

I had a small lunch so I'd be plenty hungry for the dinner I planned.  Since my wife is not a fan of mushrooms and I love them, I decided I needed to honor the Great Fungus.  As a treat, I picked up some Chanterelles from Whole Foods.  At $30 a pound, a few would do, about $3 worth.  I also picked up some Crimini mushrooms.  I also planned on fully testing my abilities by making fresh pasta rags, but after mowing and all those dang dishes in the morning, I decided on packaged pasta.  The pasta making will just have to wait for another day.  To go with the pasta, a wild mushroom cream sauce and pan- seared chicken.  Here's how I made it:

I started by pan-searing some chicken breasts in a cast-iron skillet and then finished them in the oven.  When they were done, I sliced them into bite-sized pieces.  In the same pan, back on the stove top, I sautéed some prosciutto to render some of the fat out, and after a few minutes, add some butter, garlic and red pepper flakes.  When the butter melted, I added the sliced mushrooms and some fresh thyme from the garden and cooked for about three minutes.  Then I added about a cup of heavy cream and simmered it down for about five minutes.  Lastly, I added in the cooked pasta and chicken and tossed it through to soak up the sauce.  I plated it up and topped it with some freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

Beautiful wild mushrooms

Prosciutto rendering down

Mushroom and prosciutto simmering in the cream

The final glorious product!

Now I find my belly full and my mind satisfied after a wonderful and relaxing day in the kitchen.  So where did the sports come in to my weekend?  I've got a 7:56am tee time tomorrow with a good buddy.  A great way to top off my home alone weekend!

Why Do People Insist on Lighting Fireworks?

After a short hiatus from my blog writing, I'm back and inspired tonight.  So far, I have shied  away from taking strong stances on controversial issues in my previous posts.  But tonight, I'm a little fired up and feel the need to voice my frustration.

I've just come from the annual July 4th neighborhood block party.  We all had a great time, until about an hour ago.  That's when I had to make a pretty immediate exit with the girls.  Now, the party is still going strong, but I'm sitting in my home office with my kids upstairs doing their best to fall asleep amidst the loud bangs of fireworks coming from up the block.  Several dozen adults with kids ranging in age from two to eighteen all sitting around watching a few of the guys setting up and igniting a wide variety of fireworks purchased just over the border.  It's just another part of the annual tradition, and a tradition that thousands, if not millions, of people around the country partake in. 

And just as lighting the fireworks is a tradition, so is the thousands of ambulance rides to the hospital that follow each year.  Heck, why don't we just grab our guns and have a wild wild west shootout like we're John Wayne.  Ok, so maybe that's a little over the top, but the fact is, everyone's heard of the dangers, and yet everyone continues to do it.  In 2011, 4 people died and 9,600 were treated in emergency rooms for fireworks injuries.

And worst of all tonight was the challenge of trying to teach my two daughters why we don't want them playing with fireworks and sparklers, while watching their friends play with them with the acceptance of their parents.  I'm not sure what was worse, convincing my kids they are too dangerous to play with, or trying to explain that they shouldn't worry about their friends getting hurt.  What a catch-22.

In the end, once the fireworks started, the loud noise was too much for either of them to handle and we headed home crying and with hands over the ears.  So I don't think the desire was there anymore to be a part of the action.  But it made me really think about the best ways to teach my kids right from wrong when there are so many examples of people they trust doing that same wrong all around us.  Tonight it was the fireworks.  Tomorrow I'm sure it will be something else.  I guess this is what it's going to be like now that they've reached the age of being able to understand these types of issues.

Raleigh Fireworks

Let me conclude by saying that I love my neighborhood and all of my friends, and this post is in no way meant to reflect poorly on those involved or to act in specific judgment of them.  I've written several other posts about how wonderful these folks are and how I trust them like family.  But it is meant to ask the general question "Why Do People Insist on Lighting Fireworks?".  After all, so much can go wrong.  Tomorrow there are fireworks in downtown Raleigh run by professionals.  Let them do what they do best, and let us do what we do best...watch.

I know I rarely get many comments on my posts, but I'd love this one to be different.  Please share your personal experiences with fireworks or your thoughts on this topic.  I'd also love to hear how you tackle this types of issues with your kids and teach them to be strong in making good choices when others may not.

Daddy, Can I Take Basketball Lessons?

There are moments parenting when you realize just how much your child is like you. This week was one of those moments. The theme of my blog is sports, food and my kids. And it's clear to me that if my older daughter had her own blog (and she's already asked me if she could), her theme would be sports, food and dad.

It started last week when she got in trouble in school for talking when she shouldn't have. A normal occurrence for her, but this time she swore she wasn't talking and didn't understand why her teacher wasn't very nice. As a kid, I was a big talker, too. And I was also a trusting soul, thinking everybody should be nice and honest. Teaching my daughter that some people just aren't nice and preparing her to deal with it, I could hear my father's voice some 25 years ago.

As the weekend rolled around, my daughter's sports-loving nature shined through. Saturday, she completed her third dance audition in eight days. Ballet, jazz, and finally my favorite - hip hop. In fact, this summer, in addition to playing taxi driver for her to the studio several times a week, I'll haul myself up there for an adult hip hop class. Yeah, she got her dance skills from me. Of course, I was much older than seven when I learned to dance.

At seven, I was dancing around the schoolyard basketball court doing my best MJ. And Sunday, when we arrived at a friend's house for a kids play date and cook out, I quickly took to the pick-up b-ball game going on in the driveway. My younger daughter went inside to find her friend, but my older hugged my hip, dribbling around and taking five foot jump shots, even making a few. She played for over an hour, dripping wet of sweat, stopping only momentarily for water breaks. She even had a ripped pant leg to show for her newly found passion.  By the end of the night, she'd be asking me "Daddy, can I take basketball lessons?"

When we returned home that night, we both hit the showers, and then proceeded to put a delicious bow on the weekend by hanging out in the kitchen and baking a blueberry crumb cake together. She worked on mastering her measurements, artfully placing blueberries on top of the batter I mixed up, and sprinkling streusel on top.

Yes, mini-me is on full display these days and I couldn't be more proud!

What's for Dinner?

Three seemingly simple words.  One very basic question.  Yet almost impossible to answer.  "What's for Dinner?"  There are about 2,000 plant species which are cultivated for food.  There are hundreds of proteins to choose from.   And starches..more than enough options.  Dinner can be fried, sautéed, boiled, broiled, poached, steamed, grilled, heck even eaten raw.  So why is it so hard for a family of four to figure out how to nourish itself when the sun begins to set?  The obvious answer to this question is that there's too much to choose from.  But if you ask me, it's a lot more complicated than that.

They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  Which must make dinner those most confrontational.  When you eliminate all of the dislikes, the impossible to get items, the expensive splurge ingredients and the unidentifiable, iced-over packaged goods buried deep in your freezer, you've probably only really got 10-20 possible options.  You would think it would be easy to agree on just one each night.   But it's not, and most nights, coming to a consensus requires a minor war to break out first.  And I think I've boiled it (pun intended) down to a few causes:

• We're just too tired to cook.  There's really no escaping this feeling, especially as the week drags on.  But if we were smart and planned ahead, and maybe watched a few Rachael Ray shows over the weekend, we'd be prepared with an agreed upon menu for the week.  We'd have meals prepared over the weekend for quick reheating or have simple recipes lined up making dinner a snap.
• We were too lazy to defrost something from the freezer last night.  Yes, the day was crazy and we were tired and just wanted to go to bed.  But last night, when our bellies weren't doing their best "Little Shop of Horrors" impression, was the best time to decide what's for dinner today.
• We're all too damn picky.  The purpose of eating is to stay alive, and while our taste buds want to soak up the good life, it won't kill any of us to eat rice two nights in a row.  Or to have a sandwich or some scrambled eggs and just be done with it.  But we're always searching for the perfect choice.  And let's be real, not many of us ever finish dinner and say "That was the best home cooked meal I've ever had and debating what to eat for an hour and a half was worth it all!"
• There's just so much to do tonight.  True enough.  There's homework to finish and school lunches to pack.  There's some lingering work from the day to wrap up.  The garden needs to be watered and the laundry needs to be done.  It's hard to focus on taking the time for a nice family meal so we start thinking about short cuts and boxed food.  But we're torn up with guilt over just how bad that stuff is for us.  And in the end, we don't take the time to relish in each other's company.
• We just can't agree.  So the first four reasons are nice and logical.  And I think they can all be conquered.  But then there's this dreaded fact.  A family of four rarely agrees on anything.  Every decision is a battle.  Every decision a chance for each of us to flex our muscles, to show who's boss, to take control and get what we want.  I'm not sure I have the magic bullet for this one, but perhaps if we establish some rules and a game plan, we can make it work...with some compromise.  So here's a quick idea my family will put to the test this week:
• We'll each choose two staple ingredients we want to eat this week.
• We'll brainstorm dishes we like to eat with those ingredients.
• Then we'll each choose a main dish for the family to eat one night.
• We'll make sure at least one night's dinner is cooked in a crock pot.
• We'll leave one night open to bring in a quick dinner and one night to go out for dinner.
• That leaves just one night open, so I guess we'll let the dog choose that one!

I'll report briefly on how the week goes next Friday.  In the meantime, I'd love to hear from you on how your family conquers this age-old question, or I'd invite you to try my idea along with us this week and let us know how it goes!

Can We Go Out For Dinner?

My younger daughter and I are so alike it's scary.  Everyone who looks at the two of us instantly knows we are father and daughter.  But they may or may not realize that our behaviors are near identical, too.  Over the past several years, my daughter's anxiety levels have risen tremendously, triggered early on by the tornado that rolled throughour backyard in 2011.  Combined with what appears to be a solid dose of ADHD, she can have a hard time concentrating and an even harder time keeping her cool when she doesn't get her way.  It's been a struggle to say the least.

I've, too, have had my share of traumatic life experiences including panic attacks in college, losing my dad too soon, being apart from my mom for several years, several job changes, not to mention a tornado rolling through my backyard.  And while those are stories for another day, I think it's fair to say they have left me a little anxious, too.  I don't have the same focus issues, but it's clear I have some trouble keeping my cool, especially when combating a young child who's lost her cool.  So it's no secret if you've spent any time around my family that my younger daughter and I can go at it pretty strong sometimes.  But one thing remains constant through it all...I love her more than words can ever express.  And every night, I lay in bed wondering how to make things better.  How to teach her the necessary lessons in life while balancing that with letting her just be her.

Tonight, for at least one night, I found the answer.  My wife and older daughter were off at dance class so it was just me and the young one.  Coming off three straight nights of knockdown, drag out, steel cage match, battle royals, and feeling a little lost, my daughter said to me "Can We Go Out For Dinner?".  Now on most week nights after a stressful day of work, I would have said no without hesitating.  But this night, I paused, thought about those night laying in bed thinking about how to make things better, and said yes!  I set out two parameters for her before we left:

1. You need to show me you can behave like a young lady.  You need to sit nicely and have a nice dinner.
2. We are going to take some time to talk about what's been going on and figure out how to make things better.

And off we went.  We shared one side of a booth, hugging hips.  We colored for a bit.  She read to me from the book she was assigned to read this week.  We had some bread.  We talked about our feelings.  We ate our dinner.  And we talked some more.  We even came up with a plan of attack for when she starts to get a little angry.  And I think if I can do my part, she'll do hers as well.  We came home and she went to bed without a single fuss, which on the heels of the last three nights, was a much needed reprieve.  And perhaps a great sign that if we all just stay calm and keep our heads on straight, we can make this work.  I know it's just one night, and I know it won't always work, but just having a plan is a start.

So tonight's lesson?  Food can really bring people together.  And if the plan works, I'll share it in a follow up blog post soon.  Wish us luck!

When Will There Be Another Peanut-Free Night?

For the first time since I started this blog, I get to write about something that combines all three of my passions: my kids, food and sports!  And it's all thanks to a very special support group called NC FACES (Food Allergic Children Excelling Safely).  This past Sunday night, the "volunteer support group that provides a social and emotional support network for families dealing with food allergies in the RTP area of North Carolina" organized a night out at the ballgame.

My wife and I had recently been discussing our realization that our younger daughter would not only never get to eat Chinese food because of her peanut allergies, but that she'd also never get to smell the fresh cut grass at a baseball game because of the abundance of peanut shells littering the pavement.  Then my wife learned about NC FACES from a co-worker of hers.  Ironically, they had just planned a Peanut-Free night at the Durham Bulls game!  Our little girl was going to get to see her first baseball game thanks to this wonderful collection of people.

Peanut-Free Signs All Around the Porch Area

The weather this past weekend was pretty crappy so for a while I didn't think the game would even happen.  Throughout the day, there were random passing downpours, but as game time approached, the clouds parted partially and some sun broke through.  Game on!  NC FACES had secured the porch area down the left field line and put up Peanut-Free signs everywhere.  The area had been cleaned thoroughly with not a shell to be found anywhere.  We were all given special stickers to show our support for the cause, and they even put out nutritional and ingredient info on the ballpark food so parents could be sure they would purchase safely for their kids.

The Famous Durham Bull and Blue Monster

We took in the sights and sounds, we eat hot dogs and nachos, we stretched during the seventh inning  and we cheered on the Bulls.  My daughter even got a tour behind the Blue Monster over which the famous bull from Bull Durham sits.  It's true, she cared much more about what was happening off the field than on, but it was a truly special night for all of us, especially for her.  It was a night that left her asking "When will there be another peanut-free night?"

So a special thanks to NC FACES for providing my daughter with an opportunity to feel like every other kid out there!  We are excited to be new members of this terrific group.

How Do We Get Our Kids to Try More Foods?

Are you having trouble getting your kids to try new foods?  If so, I can sympathize.  We had the same problem but came up with a creative way to solve the problem.  Hopefully, this post will help you.

Growing up, I tasted lots of different foods.  My mom had a real simple rule.  Try everything, and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat it.  I remember the first time I visited Boston with my mom when I was 13.  We were out for breakfast and I ordered an egg sandwich on a croissant.  I expected the eggs to be scrambled, but when they came, they were sunny side up with broken yolks running everywhere.  It didn't look very appealing, but following my mom's rule, I took a taste, and for the past 24 years, eating sunny side up eggs with broken yolks running everywhere has been my favorite way to eat eggs.  When I was eight, we were visiting friends in New Orleans.  They had a big brunch party and I tried quail for the first time.  A week later while introducing myself at sleep away camp, I told everyone my favorite food was quail, which was quite the departure from the typical answers of pizza, hot dogs and ice cream.

So I guess I just expected my kids would abide by the same rule and would love everything.  Clearly I have more defiant children who also possess less sophisticated  taste buds.  After several years of nothing but mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, corn and peas, my wife and I had seen enough.  So we asked ourselves "How Do We Get Our Kids to Try More Foods?".  The answer was a simple little game.  And sitting at Moe's tonight watching my older daughter eat a burrito with beef, rice, cheese, salsa and cilantro, and my younger daughter eat a soft taco with black beans, rice and cheese, while dipping chips in queso, I realized the game had worked.

We created a chart titled "Try a New Food Chart".  Under each child, we placed five rows each containing twenty boxes.  When one of the kids tried a new food item, they got one check.  If they liked it and ate a full serving, they got a second check.  This inspired the kids not only to try the food, but to actually give it a real chance.  When they finished each row, they got to pick out something from the Dollar Tree.  A cheap treat but one that thrilled them nonetheless.  And when they got their 100th check, they got a special surprise gift.  Once they got through four rows, it was amazing how many foods they were trying to finish that last row.  They used to ask before they tried a food "Do I get a check if I try that?".  Now, they just try the food and then they ask if it was worthy of a check.

Along the way, they realized how much they love some new foods.  Eggs prepared about five different ways, prosciutto, black beans, lamb chops, bruschetta, and so much more.  And all for about $50 in prizes.  Not a bad way to get the kids to try new foods and begin to experience the joys of eating all kinds of stuff.

Now it's your turn.  Please provide a comment on the creative ways you've tried to get your kids to eat more foods and how it's worked out.

Why is This Place So Magical?

I've always loved going on vacation.  As an pre-parent adult, I've spent time in San Diego, San Francisco, Vegas, Santa Fe, Maui, Montreal, the Caribbean and numerous other places.  The experiences have been great and returning home has always sucked.  But now that I'm a parent of two young children, vacations have taken on a whole new meaning.  For many, this transition is often looked upon negatively.  The loss of freedom, the loss of control, and most dreaded, the change from adult-friendly destinations to child-friendly destinations.  But for me, those changes have made for even better vacations, and unfortunately even worse returns.

Our latest Gottlieb family getaway, just completed this past Saturday, had me asking myself the entire time (and I'm still asking it), "Why is This Place So Magical?"  Five days.  Four theme parks.  One water park.  And an amazing collection of memories to last a lifetime.  Of course, I'm talking about Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida.  On the surface, it's hard to imagine how this could be.  A ten hour drive spread out over two days going, and another ten hour drive over two more days returning.  Standing in long lines just to get an autograph or ride a 3 minute kiddy-coaster.  Navigating what seems like thousands of strollers, over-sized Mickey balloons and souvenir shops.  But now that it's over, those five days felt like a dream.  There are probably many other answers to my question tonight, but here are ten I've come up with:

1) Your Arrival - Passing under the Disney World arch flanked by Mickey and Minnie for the first time, you can see the glean in your kids' eyes and hear the unadulterated excitement in their voices.  You just know you are going to love it.

2) The Best Customer Service - Whether roaming the parks, eating in one of the hundreds of restaurants, taking in a show or doing just about anything else, the staff is always there to accommodate your every need.  They truly won't say no to you.  As you know by now, my younger daughter has a peanut allergy.  The chefs at every restaurant make it a point to come out and talk to us about what she can and can't eat on the menu and help us find alternatives to make the experience just as great for her.  Heck, Disney is so good at customer service they even have their own Institute to teach others.

3) You Get to Meet Princesses - Where else can you meet a dozen princesses in five days?  Dressed to impress and speaking like they were straight out of the movies themselves, these princesses look and act the part, and my daughters felt like they were princesses, too!

 

4) Larger Than Life Stuffed Animals That Sign Autographs - By the time the week was over, each of my daughters had an autograph booked filled with John Hancock's and pictures of all their favorite Disney cartoon characters.

5) It Gives You the Giggles - At Animal Kingdom, there's a ride called the Kali River Rapids.  It's a 12-person circular raft that spins and winds its way through roaring rapids, and you just never know who'll be sitting in the wrong place and the wrong time.  When those waves hit, and grandma got soaked, it sent my daughter into what seemed like everlasting laughter.  I think she thought it was the funniest thing ever.

6) Even the Stuffed Ones Have Fun - When the humans go out to play, the stuffed friends left behind in the hotel rooms have their own parties.  When we returned to the rooms at night, we found our daughters' friends in the window courtesy of the wonderful housekeeping staff.

7)The Kids Eat Healthy - At a place where it would be really easy to load up the kids on junk, Disney cares about making sure they eat lots of fruit.  Sure, there's plenty of popcorn and ice cream and French fries, but every kids meal comes with at least one and sometimes two sides of fruit and milk or juice, ensuring you don't also return home with cavities as souvenirs.

8) All Ages Can Have a Blast - It wasn't just my kids having fun.  Even the grandparents got swept up in the magic of Disney, riding bumper cars, getting soaked at the water park and hoping in pictures with characters.

9) Phone Apps Mean Less Waiting - With Disney's wait times for rides updated on their iPhone app, free Wi-Fi around the parks and fast passes to return later in the day and hop to the front of the line, Disney is making it possible for those who plan appropriately to play more and stand around less.  That's always a good thing when you've got young kids.

10) You Can't Wait to Go Back - From the moment we pulled out of the parking lot at Typhoon Lagoon to head home until this very moment (and I'm sure for days to come), all I keep thinking about is when we can get back to that place.  That's how you know you've had a great time, and that's truly how you know this place is so magical.

Some of you are probably thinking I'm nuts right about now, but I know I'm not alone.  I want to hear from all of you that feel just like I feel.  Tell me why Disney is so magical to you and your family by commenting below.

What Good Will Come Of This?

***This post is written in memory of those that lost their lives yesterday at the Boston Marathon as well as the others that have suffered because of it.  It is also written as a thank you to my dear friends who helped my family get through the devastating tornadoes of two years ago.***

I find this post particularly hard to write.  You see, today marks the two year anniversary since tornados ripped through Raleigh, North Carolina, leaving a path of devastation some sixty miles long.  That path included my neighborhood, demolishing at least six houses completely, and damaging dozens more including my home.  While we were fortunate enough to be out of town when the tornado roared through like a freight train, it is a date and a memory that I will never ever forget.  But it also taught me that from pure destruction can come good.

On this night following the unspeakable tragedy in Boston, a city I called home for five years after college, I would be remiss and selfish if I didn't look to my experiences from two years ago to spread hope to those in pain right now.  To speak about how good can come out of the darkness for all of those forever linked with yesterday's events.

Our destroyed possessions piled by the curb

I'll start by saying that I am not naive.  I understand the primary difference between mother nature's acts of two years ago and the acts of one or more evil wrongdoers yesterday.  But at the end of it all, the thing they have in common is that tragedy can strike without a moment's notice.  That a day which starts off as any other can end with you questioning everything about life, if you are fortunate to still have one.  I makes you wonder why you?  But it also makes you grieve to the question of why you were spared when others were not.  And it leaves you with indelible images and feelings that come to you when you least expect, or when other similar events flash you back to that horrible day.  For me, that's many of our family possessions piled high by the curb, and for others less fortunate, it's images of flattened houses or worse.  Much worse.  It changes you forever.

Neighbors and strangers pitch in to clean up my yard

But then you look around and see a rainbow.  Only this rainbow isn't a mirage, it's the bright colors of humanity shining all around you.  Yesterday, it was the thousands of bystanders who rushed to the aid of those who were hurt or worse.  On  9/11, it was all of those firefighters who rushed into the World Trade Center to pull people to safety at their own peril.  For me, two years ago it was the dozens of neighbors, church groups and reconstruction crews, who selflessly gave of their time and labor to clear debris from my backyard, to mow my overgrown grass filled with shattered glass, and to just say "I'm sorry" and "What can I do to help?".  At a time when my family felt so lost in our own home, our neighbors, many of whom we had but minor friendships with, made us feel at home again.  And while two years later I hate the sound of thunder, and a tornado watch feels like certain doom, I can't help but think of how that day gave me so much more than it took away.  It gave me faith in people, it gave me hope for the future, and most importantly it gave me new friendships that will last a lifetime.

So on behalf of those affected by yesterday's events, and for anybody struggling to come to grips with their own personal tragedies, I ask "What Good Will Come Of This?"  While each of you will have to answer that question for yourselves and only in due time, I remind you to look around.  To remember what is truly important in life and to find your own humanity in all of this.  I pray that the remembrance of these events lives on for you, not to serve as a painful memory, but rather to serve as a guiding light for your future.  I hope you find your rainbows.

A note from a neighborhood kid

Please take a moment to share a kind thought or an empowering story that might provide a ray of light to those in pain right now.

Some People Count Sheep, Why Do I Relive Scoring Hockey Goals?

We all know that when you can't fall asleep, the common advice is to count sheep.  But has anyone ever told you to relive your most exciting personal sports successes?  Well, that's what I do, and it's led me to ask myself "Some People Count Sheep, Why Do I Relive Scoring Hockey Goals?"

The cement playground in front of my apartment building

For a short, skinny, Jewish kid from Brooklyn, I would say I'm a decent athlete.  I grew up on the 18th floor of a twenty-three story high-rise apartment building.  I didn't grow up honing my baseball skills shagging fly balls in my backyard, sliding easily on fluffy green grass to make a great catch.  No, instead, I snared line drives fired off my closet door by diving across my rugged carpeted floor resulting in some pretty nasty rug burns.  I only ice skated a few times as a kid, yet I learned to handle a hockey puck by practicing shooting tennis balls through a small opening in my sliding closet doors with a broken-bladed hockey stick.  And my basketball skills?  I got those by shooting a bright orange rubber basketball into a cardboard box with the bottom cut out and taped to my wall.  No one would ever mistake me for Cal Ripken, Wayne Gretzky or Michael Jordan, but on the cement playgrounds in Brighton Beach, some did call me mini Air Jordan.  Don't laugh, I'm serious!

I went to college at RPI.  That's short for Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute.  RPI had one Division I sports team in hockey.  That was it!  So our lives revolved around going to hockey games.  Right after getting to RPI, I joined the Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity.  One of the best parts of fraternity life was the intramural sports.  Having never really skated before, I decided not to play on the fraternity ice hockey team.  But after going to watch a game, I decided I had to try to put my puck handling skills to the test.  I rushed out the next day to the hockey shop and bought myself all new hockey equipment, and within a few days found myself dressing for my first ice hockey experience.  As soon as I stepped onto the ice, I knew this was the best decision of my life.  And then I fell.  And I fell again.  And again.  And again.  In fact, I spent so much time laying on the ice, they starting calling me The Mattress.

Dressing for the game

So I decided to dedicate myself to practicing my skating at the expense of some silly college courses and quickly put my Mattress days behind me and became one of our better players.  Our team wasn't that good that year, but we managed to make the playoffs, and found ourselves down a goal with seconds to go and the goalie pulled.  The puck found its way to the point, where our biggest defenseman, standing a good 6' 7" on skates, blasted the puck toward the net.  I had positioned myself to the side of the opposing goalie and managed to get a stick on the incoming shot, deflecting it up and over the goalie's pads and into the back of the net.  The crowd of at least ten fans went nuts and we were headed to overtime, and then eventually to a shoot out.  With a 1-0 lead after one round of shots, I got the call to give it a go. With all eyes focused on me, I scooped up the puck at center ice and raced toward the net.  It felt like I was flying, but in reality I think I was probably skating pretty slowly.  As I neared the net, I faked a shot and then slide the puck to the right to my backhand.  The goalie slid over to block the shot and I quickly drew the puck back the my forehand and lifted a shot into the vacated net.  It was the most incredible feeling I had ever felt playing sports.  For a few seconds, I could hear nothing.  I was truly floating on clouds as I skated away from the net, pumping my fist and eventually high fiving my teammates on the bench.  I don't think I slept a wink that night thinking about how I had saved the day!

Now, almost twenty years later, I often find myself run down from a long day of work, taking care of the kids, and numerous other responsibilities.  Yet I lay in bed at night with too much on my mind to drift off to sleep.  So I do what relaxes me most.  I close my eyes and transport myself back to that incredible late night in March 1994 and relive scoring hockey goals.  Why does it relax me so much?  Perhaps it's because I can feel the complete calm that came over me in those seconds after I scored in the shootout.  Perhaps it's because for just one night in my life, I accomplished what so many little kids fantasize about...scoring the winning goal in the final seconds and becoming a hero.  Or perhaps it's because I know that while my best athletic days are clearly behind me now (I can't even run to the mailbox without catching my breath), I can always close my eyes and for a moment feel young again.

What's your shining moment?  What accomplishment do you often think about from your younger days to make you feel better?  Please take a moment to share a comment below with all of my readers!

Hey Kid, Which Horse You Got?

Do you remember back in school when your teacher asked you "What do your parents do for a living?"  For most, the answers to that question were pretty standard: doctor, lawyer, nurse, teacher, stay at home mom, you get it.  And then there was me.  When I was asked by my first grade teacher this question, my answer was "my mom stays home and my dad bets on horses".  Surely, my teacher thought I had an active imagination, so foolishly she asked me again, and when I responded with the same answer, she threatened punishment.  Of course, just weeks later at parent teacher conference, she must have felt really foolish when she asked my parents the same question, and yet again, got the same answer.

Yes, it's true.  My dad bet on horses for a living.  More specifically, he was called a Professional Handicapper.  In layman's terms, he handicapped, or evaluated, the field of horses in a race and then based on the odds of those horses determine which horses and bets provided the best value for the wager.  Many a man has tried and failed miserably to do this for a living, many of these I witnessed firsthand growing up around the racetrack.  But not my dad.  He had a system based in mathematical data and statistics, and while there were plenty of ups and downs, he managed to support his family well for over twenty years.  And let's be clear, what he did was 100% legit.  He wasn't a bookie.  He didn't bet for others.  He didn't bet on football or baseball, or hang out in casinos.  Sure, there was the occasional trip to Vegas, but his expertise was in horses and he knew and understood how to "gamble" responsibly and in support of his profession.

To watch my dad at the racetrack was like watching royalty.  People constantly rushing up to him wanting to know what he was doing.  Everybody always up in his business.  He was even the focus of a local New York newspaper article series.  Simply put, my dad was the King of the track.  He even substantiated that title one year by winning a handicapping contest beating out hundreds of competitors.

That's me on the left with my dad in the white shirt back in '84 at Saratoga

And of course, if my dad was the King, that made me the Prince.  For as long as I can remember, I've been going to the racetrack.  My mom still tells the story of a young me, probably no older than five, being asked "Hey Kid, Which Horse You Got?"  To which I provided that old man the winning horse.  Of course, for some bizarre reason he didn't listen and quickly learned not to doubt royalty. 

And then there was the day I successfully picked the winner of six straight races in a bet called the Pick Six, the most difficult of all wagers.  And I did it by selecting just one horse in each race.  In sixth grade when we were given an assignment to write an educational book, I wrote a book title "How to Bet on Horses".  That book won a contest for the best in the entire district and was published to all the schools.

The entrance to Saratoga Race Course

My love for horse racing ran so deep, it even managed to summon a mystical power from within.  As a kid, we spent our Augusts in Saratoga, a quaint little horse racing town in upstate New York, when the racing moved there from the tracks in NYC.  Well one August night when I was about eight, I experienced a very vibrant dream.  In the dream, I was supposed to ride the #1 horse in the first race at Saratoga, but I chickened out and was replaced by a jockey by the name of Jimmy Miranda.  The horse won the race, awakening me from the dream.  The next morning, I told this story to my parents, and when my dad relayed the dream to all of his friends at the track, they all rushed to the betting windows.  And wouldn't you know it, Jimmy Miranda, riding the #1 horse, crossed the finish line first in the first race.  And then, amazingly, riding the #1 horse, he did it again in the second race.  Everyone cashed in, and it was years before I could go to the track without being asked "Hey Kid, You Have Any Dreams Last Night?"

Yeah, I think it's safe to say my friends thought I had the coolest dad, even if their parents didn't agree.  And they all wanted to go with me to the track.  I even managed to help one of my friends cash in to the tune of $300 one magical day.  Many questioned my dad as to whether I was too young to be exposed to the dangers of gambling.  But what they didn't understand was that I was actually learning just the opposite.  I was learning how to respect the dangers of gambling and how to have fun trying to solve the great mathematical problem each new race presents at two bucks a pop.  Yeah, it was a pretty awesome childhood with lots of amazing memories and stories, and it's something I wouldn't trade for the world.

Too bad there aren't any tracks in North Carolina.

I want to hear from you!  Have you ever been to the race track?  If so, what's your best memory?  If you haven't, got a question you'd like to ask me?  Fire away!

Do You Understand the Importance of "The Bond"?

With the 2013 baseball season underway, this seemed like the perfect topic for my next post.  Now before all the Yankee haters out there click away...or start posting negative comments...or even remark on the Yankees "wonderful" start to this season...let me start by saying that this post is NOT about being a Yankees fan.  And it's NOT about being a Red Sox or Mets hater.  It's also not about battling with my wife (although it might seem like it shortly).  Here's what it IS about...The Bond.  It's a fanatical sports bond between a parent and a child.  A connection built on an extreme, devoted, almost obsessive love for the SAME favorite sports team.

If you had it with your parent, you know what I'm talking about.  If you have it with your child, you understand what it feels like.  You know that special, indescribable feeling of seeing your child wearing the team colors, cheering for your favorite players, and yes, even booing the hated rival.  I hesitate to say it, but I don't think there is anything else on this planet that can bring a parent and child closer together than The Bond.

That's me!

As a kid, I shared that The Bond with my dad, just as he did with his dad.  We were Yankees fans through and through.  My dad and I didn't have the tightest relationship when I was young, but sitting next to him at a Yankee game was more magical than a thousand Disney Worlds.  Wearing the same pinstripes, donning the NY navy blue cap, and cheering at the top of our lungs as the Bombers took the field, I knew my place in my dad's heart, and he in mine.  There was no greater feeling, period.

It is because of those feelings and the unforgettable attachment they created, that from the moment my first daughter was born, I anxiously awaited the day where I could sit next to her, watch a Yankees game and high five her when yet another Yankee legend hit a blast deep into the Bronx night.  When I could form another fanatical sports bond that runs generations deep.  A bond that is tied together by Joe DiMaggio,  Mickey Mantle, Don Mattingly, Derek Jeter and future Yankee legends.

Exhibit A

So I ask "Do you understand the importance of The Bond?"  Unfortunately, if you never had The Bond with your parent, and you don't have The Bond with your child, sadly you will answer "No".  To you, it's just a team.  It's just a jersey.  It's just some players.  And it's just a rival.  There's no emotion behind it, and there's certainly no bond to be had.  And that's fine for you.  You can cheer for your team.  And you can boo the enemy.  And heck, you might even cross over to the dark side once in a while for a World Series ticket (see exhibit A).  But, and here is the moral of this entire post, don't deprive the ones you love of The Bond.  Recognize, even if you can't understand it, that it exists, it is real, and that it matters to some.  So keep cheering for your team, but step aside and let generations of this fanatical sports bond live on!

I want to hear from you.  If you've felt The Bond, share a story of one of your memories in the comments box below.

Will My Kid Never Eat Chinese Food?

The restaurant I went to as a kid in Brooklyn

As a boy growing up in Brooklyn, NY, there were three food staples that were a part of my DNA: pizza, bagels and Chinese food.  Pick any block in the big apple and walk down it and you're sure to see at least one pizza place, a bagel shop, and a takeout Chinese restaurant.  I can't even begin to imagine what life would have been like as a child without an oil-drenched slice of cheese pizza or a sesame bagel schmeared with cream cheese.  But most of all, what would life have been like without a crunchy deep fried egg roll dipped in duck sauce, a big bowl of piping hot wonton soup with crispy fried noodles, an order of spare ribs and a side of fried rice?  Now that's the real good stuff... the stuff I took for granted. 

Fast forward some twenty plus years.  I'm married and a father of two young daughters.  It's a typical weekend errand run with the family to Trader Joe's.  We see samples of bananas dipped in creamy peanut butter, yet another staple of my childhood.  My wife gives my younger daughter, then 18 months old, the sample which she proceeds to spit out, never ingesting any of it. It doesn't even dawn on us that this is her first taste of the yummy, yet about to be poisonous to her, peanut butter.  Within minutes, a small batch of hives begin to form near her mouth where she spit out the sample.  But that appears to be about it.

We leave the store, and ironic to this story, proceed to a nearby Asian market where I run in to pick up a few more things.  Ten minutes later my daughter's life (and all of ours as well) changed forever.  I'm in line to check out and my phone rings.  I hear my daughter screaming in the background and my wife demanding I get outside immediately.

(If you're eating right now, I suggest you put down the food.)  I arrived to the car to see my daughter spewing like Mount Vesuvius.  By the time she was done, I don't think there was a drop of fluid left inside her little body.  Her body was covered from her head to her toes in hives.  And she was screaming like she was on her first roller coaster ride.  It was downright horrifying.  We rushed her to the nearby emergency room where they administered some Benadryl while I cleaned out the vomit from her car seat so we'd have a way to get her home.

She survived that scary day and the next week we had her at the allergist, where just six months earlier she had tested negative for all allergies.  This time, the results were, as we expected, dramatically different.  They scratched up her back for all sorts of allergies, and the area where they tested for peanuts blew up so bad they had to retest for all the allergies within three inches of that test.  The doc told us that it was one of the most severe reactions he had seen in years, and that it would likely be with her forever.  At that moment, I wondered to myself "Will my kid never eat Chinese food?  Will she never know those same joys I knew growing up?"  After all, there are peanuts everywhere in Asian cuisine.  It seemed so unfathomable, yet it was now her reality.  In the four years since that fateful day, we've managed to cope with it, adjusting our lives and our eating habits, and I've even learned to make some pretty tasty Chinese food at home.  But it never tastes the same as what you get from that take out place around the corner.

So, I ask you, my faithful readers (or I hope soon to be), what is the one food you can't imagine ever having to give up?  What's the one taste you would never imaging your kids missing out on?  I want to hear from you, so please leave a comment!  Oh, and feel free to offer up any of your own homemade peanut-free Chinese food recipes!

Should I Write a Blog?

Hi!  My name is Mike and I hope you'll come along with me on this exploration of the things I'm truly passionate about: my kids, food and sports.

So recently I asked myself, "Should I write a blog?"  I'm a very introspective person.  I often ask myself "why did I do this?" or "what would I do if?".  That's probably why I love going to therapy so much.  And at difficult times in my life I've turned to writing bits and pieces of my autobiography, hoping that perhaps one day, the questions I've asked myself and the answers I've come up with to help me cope with life could somehow help others deal with their own problems.  But recently I thought, why not start a blog where I can share some quick thoughts on a relevant topic in my life and pose a few questions to myself and to others who might share common interests.

My goal is to focus my posts on at least one of my passions, but where possible to combine these passions to connect the dots of my life.  I'll plan to post at least twice a week to start with, and hope you'll follow along and get to know me better in the coming weeks and months.  I'd love to hear from you and hope you'll provide your own thoughts on how you might answer the questions I pose.

So here's a sneak peak at my next post.  It's titled "Will My Kid Never Eat Chinese Food?", and it's coming this Tuesday.  I hope you'll come along for the ride!