I love being outside. That's not such an interesting piece of information right now; after all, it's in the 60s and breezy and everything's blooming and everyone loves being outside. I've had the house open for weeks. So, until a few hours ago, there was a thick layer of yellow dust on my boys' bedroom furniture. That would ordinarily be fodder for some self-deprecating humor about my housekeeping skills and my preferences for going out to play in the sunshine with the kids, but for the fact that it renders Cole unable to breathe. And Tim. And Chase's nose starts running. And for the first time ever, I'm walking around rubbing my eyes and coughing and sneezing. So, like every year around this time, I packed up the humidifiers and put them in the storeroom. I dragged out the air purifiers. I dusted. I vacuumed (with new vacuum cleaner bags that filter allergens). I replaced the AC and heater filter (again, with special allergen filters). And as much as it kills me to do it on a day like today, I shut up the newly-cleaned house and turned on the air conditioner. But I need to be outside. There have been all sorts of studies and reports about the benefits of nature and sunlight on people with asthma (ironically), depression, ADHD, you name it. But it just plain helps keep me sane. I can get crazy, really crazy, cooped up in the house (especially . . . ahem . . . when I've been dusting and vacuuming). It's funny that I roll my eyes to friends and complain about how nutty my kids act when they don't get outside. When I act downright embarrassingly. They say you should pretend that the president's in the room, or a dear relative, or better yet, Jesus, and behave accordingly. I simply hope the neighbors can't hear my yelling. So when Chase gets off the bus in twenty minutes, we'll all stay outside until dinner time, like we have every day in past weeks. We'll play with our friends, and get covered in dirt and sweat and probably a little blood from scraped knees. And yellow dust. We'll come in, I'll throw them in the bath and give them Zyrtec, and Cole will most likely take a hit off his inhaler. Which seems so unnatural. I have to wonder, two hundred years ago, when there was no TV or Wii, and the only entertainment (and, sometimes, employment) was outdoors, did people walk around complaining about the tree pollen? Have we wrecked our systems with sterile surfaces and Purell and air conditioners? Is there something new in the pollen and dust? I don't know. I only know it makes my four-year-old incredibly irritable. But he and his mother are ten times more irritable if they don't get outside in the sunshine.