During the summer we got sunburned and bug-bitten and drank out of the hose when we were thirsty. In the winter we played outside until our noses were pink and our mittens were covered in mini snowballs. In short, we had a lot of fun without spending a dime. My mother, I’m sure, didn’t realize she was following the American Academy of Pediatrics recommendation to encourage children to play outside as much as possible. She didn’t know she was helping to battle childhood obesity. She just thought that kids should run and play.

A new study from the Seattle Children’s Research Institute found that — if I was a child today — my mother would be in the minority. According to the study, “nearly half of preschoolers in a sample representing four million U.S. children did not have even one parent-supervised outdoor play opportunity per day.” The study, “The frequency of parent-supervised outdoor play of U.S. preschool age children,” was published last week in the Archives of Pediatric & Adolescent Medicine.

There were a few interesting stats in the study. For instance, girls were less likely to spend time outdoors playing. Also, when kids do go outside it’s mostly mothers that are taking them. According to researchers, 44 percent of mothers report taking kids outside daily compared to only about a quarter (24 percent) of dads. Really scary: 15 percent of moms and 30 percent of dads didn’t take their kids outside even a few times per week. Kids of gym rats are luckier than the rest since their parents make outdoor play a priority. Mothers who exercised regularly (more than four times a week) were 50 percent more likely to take their child outside daily than those who never hit the gym.

One of the authors of the study, Pooja S. Tandon, M.D., wrote an excellent blog post about the research and about her own children. In the post, Resurrecting Outdoor Play Time, she explains that kids in many European countries spend three or four hours outside daily, which sounds a lot like my childhood. She also provides a few ideas to get kids outside more often. Here’s one thing she didn’t include: Don’t worry about having an activity or “something to do.” Kids, when given the chance, will find something to do.

Yesterday, while I worked my babysitter took the kids outside. The kids decided to go on a rock hunt, finding 20 different rocks in the backyard. Then they played a spy game, lurking behind trees while talking into pretend walkie talkies. Finally, they had running races, which my Big Girl won every time. I heard about it all when we were eating dinner together. (Another old fashioned habit that needs a revival!) Even though I wasn’t with them today, I know they made some memories that they will always remember. And that’s a good thing — body, mind, and soul.

At first, this really bothered me. Why isn’t she making any little girlfriends, I wondered. What does this mean about her and her personality? Then I realized I was over-thinking things. Little Girl is an active, athletic, fun child who loves running around and would rather play monster than sit in a dirty sandbox. How could I have anything bad to say about that? Really, what’s the big deal? So she’s a tomboy, something that’s increasingly being found to be genetic, according to one study.

I think it will serve her well as she gets older and enters what is still a male-dominated world. My little girl, well, she already doesn’t take any crap from anyone. (Hence the scar above her eyebrow and the fact that she lost Blanka last night for biting her sister. I also think it’s a byproduct of spending a lot of time with her Daddy when she was little. Big Girl was almost exclusively with me in her very early years. My husband worked a lot, so I got to take her to music class, mommy-and-me, cooking classes, gymnastics, and playdates. My husband was out of work and sick when Little Girl was born, so he was the one charged with her care during the day. His activity of choice: Bringing Little Girl to the park and letting her run wild. There were few, if any, music classes on his agenda.

Anyway, the whole point of this post is that I think it’s important for us as parents to accept and embrace the people our children become. Because if we can’t accept them, how can they accept themselves?

I caught sight of my baby right away. (Bless that beautiful bright red hair.) She was smiling from ear to ear playing with another little girl. They were sitting down on the blacktop. Both of them were holding books. They looked thick as thieves. I sat there for a moment, watching. I finally had to leave because of Little Girl, who was losing her mind and screeching her sister’s name asking if we were going to pick her up. We weren’t, of course, so I drove off.

When Big Girl got home I told her what I had done, and that I had seen her at lunchtime. I mentioned she looked like she was having fun, and asked who she was playing with. “That’s C.,” she told me. And then she explained that no one liked C. That the other girls in her class thought C. was “too bossy.” She doesn’t have any friends, said Big Girl. No one will play with her, she said. I didn’t know where to go with that, so I changed the subject hoping to revisit it when my husband got home.

Later, we were all sitting at the dinner table when I asked Big Girl to explain C. again. She did, with more detail. C. was really mean in first grade, she said. But she really wasn’t bossy. My husband didn’t hesitate. He told Big Girl that while he is glad that she is following her own heart, we don’t want C. to boss Big Girl around. We want her to make her own decisions. I started to speak, but my husband shushed me. I was blurting out the fact that I was afraid that, by being friends with C., the other girls wouldn’t like Big Girl anymore. Big Girl started wailing, and I listened to my husband for once and shut up. Still, I’ll share my fears with you: I am completely and utterly torn and very, very nervous for Big Girl.

Okay, it is possible that this “bossy” kid is just a little weird or strange and that’s why no one likes her. It’s also likely that this kid is not a nice girl, and the other girls are just avoiding her because they have prior experience with her. And of course I worry that, no matter which option is right, Big Girl will get hurt by befriending the kid who has no friends. The nice new friends she has will decide, just as the old adage says, that Big Girl is the company she keeps. And then she will be alone and unpopular, too.

That wasn’t the only social discussion at dinnertime. We also heard about how everyone left Big Girl’s club. How half the girls joined R.’s club, and the other half joined S.’s club, and how Big Girl was sad now. We tried to tell her that she should just join one of the other clubs, and that clubs weren’t really a nice thing to have on the playground anyway. But of course that didn’t go over well.

This is one of those times when I feel completely and utterly useless as a mother. I have no idea how to help my child. I don’t know what kind of advice to give her, or how I could even get her to take any advice I’d offer up. I do know that the look on her face when she was running around with that little, unliked girl was priceless. She was so happy, and it was unbridled happiness. She didn’t look sad or shy or hesitant. So right now, I’m going to sit back and do nothing. Damn, this sucks.

She was clammy and grimy and grainy. A mixture of dirt and sweat and grass and humidity that you can only build up over a long day with friends. The kids had played chase, climbed stuff, spent time on the swings, rode their bikes, eaten candy and ice cream and slid down slides. I smiled at her as I remembered all the summer nights I ended up looking and feeling the way she looked and felt, but then I told her the first thing she was going to do when we got home was take a shower. Could it wait until tomorrow, she wanted to know? Nope, I told her. She needed a shower and it was happening tonight.

We left soon after giving our friends with hugs and kisses. (And I’m not a huggy or kissy person but I make exceptions for this group.) We all agreed we had a great time. The kids, especially had a truly, truly amazing time. How do I know that? I’ll tell you. In the car we asked my big girl what her favorite part of the day was — the bike riding, the ice cream sundaes, the show they put on? Her answer: “The best part of today was seeing all my friends.” And the best part of my day? Hearing my daughter say that.

Can’t believe the long weekend is almost over. What are you up to?

She was the narrator. She was supposed to run onto the stage and start the play. Instead of running, though she tripped, or so my mother and husband told me. She went down hard, they said, hitting her side and her face. Amazingly, she got right back up again and started saying her lines. She didn’t cry. She didn’t fuss. She took the old stage adage — the show must go on — to heart, I guess. She is six. That’s pretty incredible in my book.

I wonder how she would have reacted if I was there. I get so nervous when stuff like that happens. My heart would have twisted just like it did when I heard about the mishap. It would have shown it on my face, too. I may have gotten a bit misty, my heart hurting for her. Maybe she would have cried if she saw me cry? Probably.

I got to go to the 7 p.m. show. I got there super-early so I could grab a front row center seat. I sat and watched her read her lines and was in awe of that little girl. When did she become so articulate? When did she get so BIG? And even later, when a huge crash of thunder and lightening caused the lights to flicker and I saw fear cross my baby’s face, I was still impressed. She is not a fan of the dark. (I wasn’t, either, well into my 20s, actually.) Her hands went up to her mouth. Her eyes got big. She fidgeted. I could tell all she wanted to do was run into my arms. But she continued. She finished the play. With the thunder booming all around us and the threat of a black out very real, and yet she did it.

At the end of the show she came to stand in front of me and I grabbed her and pulled her onto my lap, squeezing her extra tight and telling her how proud I was of her. She beamed. We left that school two very happy people. On the way home she got quiet, though. She sighed and said how sorry she was that the play was over. She loved doing it, she said. And then she asked if we could get ices. I was sorry it was over, too, I told her. And yes, we could get ices. I didn’t tell her that I was tearing up realizing that another year was over and there was no way to stop time to keep her a little girl for a little while longer.

Are you looking forward to the summer? Have any teary moments with your kids lately? Would love to hear about them.

Two second later there she was. My little girl riding her bike. Alone. I felt so proud. So amazed. In my mind I heard a link breaking. One of the ones connecting her to what I once thought was an unbreakable chain. You know, the chain that keeps her close by my side.

She grew up a little today. She took one more step towards independence. I am so awed by this process. And so very blessed to be along for the ride.

And since I’m writing: What is it that makes everyone who passes in the car break out in a huge smile when they see a kid learning how to ride a bike. All those smiles, all that positive energy. I’m thinking it’s either they are remembering what it was like to learn how to ride. Or maybe they are remembering teaching their own kids. Whatever. All those smiles become part of what is a truly beautiful memory.

Find a new locale. You’re probably well aware of your local parks and popular hangouts. However, mixing it up can get you excited about being outdoors. PlanetExplore, a new online community enabled by The North Face, helps people find outdoor events in their neighborhood. It only launched recently so there’s not much there yet, but I love the idea, and will be checking it out myself in the coming months.

Taking a walk with the dog. Okay, so I don’t have a dog. But I wish I did. My husband and I used to walk every single evening. We even took our nightly walks when Big Girl was a small baby. We stopped after a while because our dog got too old. Anyway, I used to go around cleaning up my neighborhood. I was always running out of bags, which is why I would have loved having one of these dog leash pouches made from reclaimed sweaters. Cool idea. Even cooler that it’s made out of something that may have gone into a landfill.

Find a new game. I am going to the 2010 Toy Fair this weekend. I’m really excited. I was looking through some of the award-nominated items when I came across the Swinxs, an interactive toy platform. According to the video I watched there are three types of games — educational, active, and adventure. Each player gets a wristband that communicates with the main unit. Then they pick a game, most of which are played outside. So, for example, they can have races (and the Swinxs says who wins — love that about it), play tag, do relay races. It’s a very nice option for kids who are used to playing video games since it gets them outside but still gives them that high-tech feel. I am hoping to see the actual game in use this weekend, but from what I can tell, it’s going to be nice. (As long as it’s durable, that is.)

Keep it safe. If you’re outside, you’re exposed to the elements. I wear 30 SPF sunscreen on my face every single day. Winter, spring, summer, and fall. I put sunscreen on Big Girl, too. I won’t suggest a specific sunscreen. I’ll just remind you that tomorrow’s skin cancer is from today’s exposure — especially in kids. Snow, which reflects the sun, can intensify exposure. Check the Skin Deep Cosmetic Safety database, find the sunscreen that’s right for you and your family, and wear it. You’ll thank me when you look better than all your friends.

Have a good weekend, folks! I am going to try and update the Green & Crunchy link between now and Monday. When I get too busy at work I tend to let that slide. Sorry! It’s been a hectic few months! What’s your favorite thing to do outside? Let’s hear about it…

Little Girl running away with Bitty Baby.

Big Girl got her American Girl Bitty Baby when she was about three. I was in the city for a girls’ weekend with three of my good friends. We went to American Girl to look around. I ended up walking out with a set of Bitty Twins. I took one, while my friend, who has a little girl a month younger than Big Girl, took the other. I don’t know who was more excited when I handed over that doll: Me or my daughter. It was a great purchase, though.

The doll, named Sally-o, has been tossed around a bit — literally — and played with over the years. She had a small clump of hair cut off during one especially harrowing playdate. What’s left is fairly messy. One of her eyes are stuck open or closed — depending on how she’s held. If you look closely you can see the black ink from when she was a victim of a write-and-run attack. She’s missing her socks. Maybe a nicer way of describing her is that she is a much-loved doll. So much so that she often shares a pillow with her red-headed owner.

I am reminiscing about how she came to live here because I have American Girls on my mind. Earlier this week a friend posted on Facebook that she was selling her daughter’s American Girl dolls — the real ones, not the Bitty Babies. I was considering caving in and buying them. Right now we’ve still got about 20 months before I have to shell out that kind of cash. You see, American Girl dolls are made for girls eight and up, according to the company’s site and ubiquitous catalogs. This is a fact I was only too happy to pass along to my daughter. In effect, it bought me a little more time. Of course, my strict adherence to American Girl’s suggested age is backfiring on me.

Poor Little Girl loves Big Girl’s Bitty Baby. LOVES it. Carries it around. Kisses it. Tries to take its many beautiful outfits to put on her own plain Jane doll. (We recently had an issue with a Bitty Baby dog costume. Little Girl loves dogs even more than Bitty. Thank goodness small children have very short memories.) But as always, I digress.

Last weekend I was looking at the American Girl Web site with Big Girl contemplating a purchase for Little Girl’s second birthday in June. Which one would she like, I wanted to know. (I was leaning towards the little blond one.) Big Girl jumped right on it. “But Mommy, you CAN’T get her a Bitty. She’s only going to be TWO. You have to be THREE to buy a Bitty Baby.” Damn. Drat. Sigh. She’s right. It says so right on the product specifications. Ages 3 and up.

So now I’m trapped. I can’t get Little Girl a Bitty unless I want to get called out by a 6-year-old for being a hypocrite. But I am torn. If ever there was a year to buy an American Girl, it’s this one. This year’s doll is Lanie. She’s interested in the environment. The American Girl parent company is partnering with the National Wildlife Federation to get girls outside and back to nature. There’s even a Web site dedicated to helping parents help kids to do just that — Be Out There. I’m so temped to tell Big Girl that the suggested age is just that — a suggested age. But then again I feel like I should stick to my first instinct and make them both wait until they’re actually old enough to own their respective dolls. Arggg. Such a tough decision. Good thing I don’t live in New York City.

What do you think of American Girl dolls? Would you buy them for your child? HAVE you bought them for your child? Aside from American Girl dolls, what are the best toys out there that you’ve seen? Do you know of any eco-dolls that might make my baby toss the Bitty love out the door?

A friend just e-mailed an article to me and a few other friends. The Washington Post has a story written about some time management stats out of the University of Maryland. According to John Robinson, a researcher and time management guru, moms and dads have plenty of free time. More than 30 hours a week, to be exact.

I’ll bet a lot of parents would balk at that number, as the Washington Post writer did, too. How could that be? We all work so hard. Kids make us crazy. Housework, bills, yard work. Where does 30 hours come from? You know what? I think Robinson is right. Even in this house, where we work really hard, we have downtime.

I go to the gym. I go to yoga. I see friends. I’m in a book club. I read. I watch television. I go to playdates. I take my little one to classes. I play Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. I read blogs — lots of them. I write this blog. I read to my girls. I play with my girls. I laugh with them. I am on a bowling league. I go to volunteer meetings at my local beach club. I go out for coffee or dinner with my husband. We play board games. We have our alone time. All those things add up in terms of hours. Just last night I went to an hour of spin and, when yoga was canceled, ended up meeting two friends at a local coffee house. I got home and watched an hour of TV with my husband. That was almost five hours of downtime. Granted, I stay up way too late, and I work a lot, but I’m still getting in plenty of me-time.

If you take the time to read through the entire Washington Post article you see that the author, who was resistant to the idea in the beginning, slowly comes to realize that she has more time than she thinks she does. When she first starts out, some of the folks in the story — including the author herself — bemoan the fact that a good portion of so-called “leisure time” is actually spent exercising or spending time with kids, which doesn’t always feel like leisure. But as the story unfolds the folks that she interviews help her to realize that to-do lists often don’t need to get done, and leisure time is what we make of it. The author wrote that she, as a working mom, did actually have close to those 30 hours of time — she had about 28 — but that it didn’t feel like leisure because she was too busy worrying and thinking about other things that needed to get done. “Even during a so-called leisure activity, mothers are more likely to be worried about something, planning what to pull together for dinner or strategizing. Sociologists call that ‘contaminated time,’ ” she quotes Rachel Connelly, a labor economist at Bowdoin College in Maine as saying.

I think this story is pretty interesting, and hopefully something that will give readers hope. As someone who has always been selfish and self-centered when it comes to taking me-time, I can say it helped me re-discover the fact that it’s a wonderful thing that I do take that extra time for myself. That it’s important. That it helps me feel like me and be a better journalist, wife, mother, and friend. How about you? what have you done for yourself lately? What do you count among your 30 hours of weekly leisure time?

The first one was drawing with creamy crayons on a piece of paper. I couldn’t find the ingredients online, but I can tell you that they were not organic, and they definitely weren’t going to last very long with ten 18-month to 30-month kids playing with them. Impact: About 30 small plastic lipstick-like tubes. The teacher then brought around foam rollers, asking the kids to “create a rainy day scene” by rolling water over the creamy crayons. She handed out more construction paper to put underneath the original drawings. So now we’re up to two pieces of paper times ten kids or 20 pieces of paper. Then we all washed our hands and dried them using paper towels. Two towels per parent/child pair.

Once we were done with our very wet, very colorful painting, we went back to the table where ten napkins and ten paper cups had been laid out for snack. The kids ate pretzels and drank juice while listening to a book. Once that was done, the smocks went back on. The teacher handed out more construction paper and more paper cups — this time, the cups were filled with glue. (Plus 10 pieces of paper, plus 10 more cups.) She also gave us cut up cotton balls, felt, and yup, about 10 more napkins torn to shreds. Once we glued the assorted felt and napkin “clouds” to our paper, everyone needed their hands washed again. (Using 20 more paper towels.) When we came back to the table we got another cup filled with blue paint. The kids then painted rain coming out of our “clouds.” Blue paint everywhere, we all filed back to the sink to wash hands yet again. At the end of the class, here was our approximate environmental impact without the paint and the glue included:

• Construction paper: 30 pieces
• Paper towels: 80 pieces
• Napkins: 20 pieces
• Paper cups: 30 cups
• Felt: About a foot
• Cotton balls: About 40

Most of the projects were super-gluey and super-wet from paint. They were left behind and, according to the teacher, they would be thrown out if they weren’t picked up by the following week. As much as I love going to that class, and really think art is an important part of a child’s development, I left the place feeling as blue as the paint now smeared all over Little Girl’s pretty leopard-print top. Especially when I saw the once-empty-but-now-overflowing garbage can. What’s a mom to do? Seriously?

I want Little Girl to have the same fun experiences as Big Girl did, but I want to be more mindful of the environmental impact of our fun, which is why I’m asking my readers this: How can I balance fun with being green? How have you handled this type of experience? Am I simply taking my quest to be greener too far? Sound off and let me know what you think.