Visionary Powers

My mother called this morning to say how sorry she was to hear about my second-oldest son almost having rabies. "What?" I laughed. "Rabies?"

"That's what I hear," she said, coyly.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked. Before she even told me, however, I knew. She heard it where everybody hears everything: in the car with my daughter.

My 9 year-old daughter, upon whom God has put the pressure of meeting a daily quota of words and who regularly asks, without taking a breath, "Okay, what do you want to talk about now?" reported to my mother that my 13 year-old was bitten by a fierce, feral cat that pounced on him from the woods and tore his flesh in two perfect X-marks.

As my mother told the particulars, the incident, which happened about 2 years ago but which my daughter told about as if it occurred yesterday, returned to mind. It was a vaccinated cat belonging to a neighbor and my son had been playing with it. It did bite him and break the skin and I did have to call the neighbors to confirm that my child would not contract rabies. The entire episode lasted all of about 20 minutes one evening around dinner. I would think the memory of the dog putting a dead mole on her brother's pillow, and all the screaming and shouting and recoiling and sheet washing that accompanied the gift, would be far more vivid and interesting to share.

"She told us that luckily he doesn't have rabies," continued my mother. "It was a close call, though." My mother asked my daughter how I could tell that my son didn't have the dreaded hydrophoby. Another little girl riding in the car wanted to know to which veterinarian we took my son to get the diagnosis of almost rabies.

No vet needed, the youngster informed them. She assured them that I could tell from looking at him that he didn't have a full-fledged case, only a near case. Just like, I suppose, I could look at that mole the dog left on the child's pillow and tell that it was all-the-way dead and rancid, not a little bit dead. God gave her a word quota, but he gave me visionary powers.

Etsy Benefit for Japan

I'm joining in on a blog hop to benefit Japan. Click on the pic to visit the Etsy dealers who are donating a portion of their sales to the effort to aid Japan's citizens. When I think of them, I think of the mothers and children who need our help to put their lives back together.

Lucy Adams Talks about her Writing Style

During a recent visit to NES Book Club to discuss Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run, I shared the secret of my writing style:

I'm available to visit your book club, as well, either in person or via Skype. Contact me.

Writing Her Friends' Lives

Recently, I gathered with the members of the NES Book Club to talk about my new book, Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run. They had many excellent questions for me; not just about the stories in the book, but also about the writing process and how I refine my craft.

An entire chapter in Tuck Your Skirt features stories about my friends and their various humorous mishaps. The group asked me about it:

I'm available to be a guest at your book club, too. Contact me.

The Water Cycle Song

She's come a long way since the singing fingers:

Kicking up her performance, she stars with her best friend as they perform their original, The Water Cycle Song. She even shows her face in this one. Stay tuned all the way through to the bloopers at the very end:

Is America's Got Talent ready for this duo?

How to Talk to Your Child about Death

It's tough talking to kids about some topics. Death, in particular, gives adults a hard time. We usually put off talking about it until it's a relevant issue in our lives and the lives of our children; until we ourselves are grieving. We put it off because we don't want to burden our children with sad thoughts, we don't want them to worry about such things. As parents, we strive to preserve the innocence of childhood for as long as we can.

But death is a natural part of living. Pets die. People die. If we talk to our children about death, just like we talk to them about the weather and about eating healthy foods and about their day at school, we better prepare them for coping with it. In her book, Why Do People Die?, Cynthia MacGregor helps parents explain death to their children.

Her perceptive analogy comparing toys and clothes wearing out, something any child who has ever had a favorite pair of shoes or doll or t-shirt can understand, to a body wearing out makes the abstract notion of death more concrete. MacGregor also tackles the many emotions a child might experience while grieving and lets the child know that these emotions are acceptable and normal. Excellent iillustrations accompany the text.

Although a very useful tool for parents, the book almost provides too much information in one sitting for a child to absorb. More than simply covering why people die and how we might feel about it, it also discusses funerals, the different kinds and what children can expect to happen before, during and after, and various beliefs about what happens to people after they die.

Nonetheless, Why Do People Die? offers excellent talking points to parents who may have difficulty finding the right words to explain death to their children. It's a great conversation starter between parent and child, letting children know it's okay to ask questions; that death is natural and not a taboo subject.

I recommend that parents read sections of the book with their child at separate sittings, allowing time for the child to process the information. In addition, let your child keep the book to look through on his or her own. Finally, be willing to admit that death is tough for you to talk about, that it makes you feel sad, too, and to engage in even the uncomfortable conversations that may arise from your child pondering the issue of human mortality.

Words I Live By

"Go away from me with that," is a common command directed at my children. I do not want to bear witness to their petty disputes. I do not want to mediate their ridiculous disagreements. And I do not want to judge who may or may not be at fault. I refuse to let them drag me into the fray. So I banish them from my presence.

Off they go, dissatisfied that they are without an audience and now bickering about who made me mad first.

But these kids of mine are clever and cunning and have their ways of drawing me in despite myself. They've taken to recording their battles for my review. Yesterday, in preparation for a book club appearance to discuss my book,Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run, I readied my supplies, which included my voice recorder so that I can make a podcast of the discussion.

My voice recorder had 12 new tracks on it. As I clicked through each one, I discovered that my offspring, thoughtful in every way, had recorded one of their numerous quarrels for my listening pleasure (I added the music for your listening pleasure):



And would you believe, when I confronted them with the fact that they had used my technology without permission, they proceeded to fill me in on the details of their tiff and wanted me to dole out punishments. Kids! Thank goodness they make me laugh.