She Got Her Driver's License, And I'm Never Going To Sleep Again!

My teenager grew a wing today. She passed her driving test with flying colors. Well, maybe "flying" isn't the best choice of words when we're talking about driving, but she's well on her way to a whole new world.

In my view, she really wasn't ready to take her test. She has driven on the freeway only twice, and about three times at night. She still has some issues changing lanes. Tends to take her eyes off the road for too long while she's looking over her shoulder to merge. Scares the hell out of me. She probably would have crashed by now if I hadn't rescued her with all my screaming.

I knew this day was coming, but I stuffed my true feelings deep down in the Land of Denial until the very end. Last night, I told her that I didn't want her to take the test because she needed more practice. She broke down in tears, and blubbered something about how behind she felt with all her peers. Most of her friends have their licenses already. She's a young 16. Her 17th birthday isn't until September, so she feels younger than her friends because she really is.

I felt badly. Really , I did. I don't want my daughter to feel "held back." I want her to grow and blossom and soar to new heights and feel like she can conquer the world and . . . sorry, I ran out of tired expressions. But I also don't want her to die in a car crash because she really isn't ready to drive.

Once I waded through all her tears, I managed to get to the heart of her disappointment. All she wanted, she explained, was to start her senior year being able to announce to her friends, "I finally got my license!" That's it. Bragging rights was her end goal.

So we struck a deal. I told her she could test for her license today, but I wasn't going to let her take the car out, alone, until she and I did some hard-core driving practice for six months. Time to play catch-up. All those times I should have been letting her drive, instead of stubbornly taking the wheel myself, have caught up with us.

I see now that it was advantageous to both of us to have allowed her more time behind the wheel these last six months. My advice to parents? Once your teens get their permits, let them dirve with you as much as possible. Counsel, guide, coach, and yes, scream if you have to -- every opportunity you get because the day will come, like it did for me, when your teen will be ready to sprout her wings. All too soon. And you'll want those wings to be as crash-proof as possible.

We also have an understanding that as soon as she is ready to go solo, I will be installing that new device called "iZUP" in the car, that disables car phones when the car is in motion so that she can't text or take a call while she's driving.

I think "iZUP" should be installed in every single car that rolls off the assembly line. Standard equipment, it should be.

Honey, if you're reading this, I'm proud of you. Excited for you. And worried sick, too. Hey, I'm your mom. What do you expect?

Lance Orton, The Times Square Hero

We can probably all agree that it’s the people you meet along the way that make life – and vacations – really interesting. My daughters and I vacationed in New York City this summer, and while we met some very memorable characters, the highlight of our trip was meeting Lance Orton, the Vietnam veteran-turned-hero who stopped the Times Square bombing by alerting police to suspicious smoke coming out of an SUV that was parked alongside his T-shirt stand. (Watch the video.)

We didn’t plan on meeting Lance. But like Lance, who was at the right place at the right time when a Muslim terrorist tried to blow up Times Square with a failed bomb attempt, we happened to stumble on his T-shirt stand. We actually walked past it, and then my teenager said, “You know, I’d really like to get an ‘I Love NY” T-shirt. Can we go back, Mom?”

“Oh, all right.” Just what I wanted to do – spend MORE money in New York City!

So we’re fishing through these T-shirts, and it dawned on me that we were close to where this incident happened a few weeks ago, if I remembered the news clips correctly. So I asked the T-shirt guy, “Hey, do you know the man who saved Times Square from that bomb?”

And he said, “I am that man.”

Well, this was unexpected! So of course I got all starry-eyed, or pretended to, because I think it was expected of me, and I spoke with an excited shrill, “Girls! This is the Time Square Hero! If it weren’t for him, we’d be standing in what used to be Times Square!”

Then I made a grave error, something Lance may never forgive me for. I asked, “What’s your name?”

He gave me a look like, “How could you NOT know my name? I am the talk of the town! No, of the world! They’re naming airports after me, for God’s sake.”

I apologized. I mean, really, what rock have I been hiding under, right? Even so, he still agreed to pose for a picture with my daughters. Grudgingly, at first, because he said he was tired of all the media attention. I assured him that I was just a single mom traveling with her daughters, and we would be honored to have a picture taken with him.

Of course, I left out the fact that I was a blogger. I just didn’t want to get old Lance all riled up again. He’d been through a lot, already.

New Yorkers Are MUCH Nicer Than Bostonians!

You hear it all the time – especially if you’re from California: People from New York are whiney and rude!

I am here to tell you, as a true-blue Californian who recently traveled to New York for summer vacation with my two daughters, that this stereotype is not even close to being true.

Quite the opposite. I found New Yorkers to be some of the nicest, friendliest, most helpful people I have ever met. They smiled, they small-talked with us, they gave us directions and on one particular occasion, when I must have really looked like a lost, pathetic tourist, this woman walking very swiftly on Wall Street actually took time out of what was probably a very bad day for the stock market to stop and ask me if I needed any help. I didn’t even have to ask . . . she KNEW!

I would like to officially apologize for every Californian who has ever perpetuated that unfair stereotype of nasty New Yorkers.

What I love about New Yorkers is that they are who they are. No pretenses. Yeah, they’re in a big hurry most of the time, and maybe that’s why they are so REAL: There’s no time for B.S. There’s a big, bustling city they have to keep in perpetual motion.

Bostonians on the other hand . . . not so nice. A little too aloof and uptight, in my opinion. Maybe it’s the puritanical roots that they haven’t been able to shake. Whatever the reason, within five minutes of getting off the subway from the Amtrak station, I sensed a personality clash between me and Boston.

So, picture this. My daughters and I are dragging our heavy suitcases down two flights of subway stairs to catch the Green Line to Brookline, a nearby suburb where our hotel was located. My daughters are on one side of the stairwell, and I moved to the other side, the left side, because I was worried that if I lost my grip on this heavy bag, it would careen into them and knock them down. It was THAT overpacked! And at the time, there was no one else on the stairwell but us.

Little did I know that there is an unspoken subway protocol in Boston, whereby you are supposed to walk down on the right side, and walk up on the left. Everything is so PROPER here. So I’m struggling with my bag, and suddenly the stairwell fills up with people who had just jumped off the subway. One by one, they brush right past me without a glance or an offer to help. Big, youthful, muscular Bostonians who could have lent a hand, but didn’t. It’s like I was invisible or something.

Instead, this loud-mouthed BLEEP-BLEEP bounded past me and started screaming, “Nice, Lady! Real courteous of you to block the stairwell so no one can walk up!”

I said, a little out of breath, “Excuse me???”

He screamed louder, “You heard me, Lady! How rude of you to be on that side! Can’t you see that people are trying to get past you?” Try to imagine a Kennedy screaming at you, because that is exactly how he sounded. This man was so inappropriately angry, in fact, that I had to wonder if the Red Sox had just lost a game or something.

So, being the smart-ass, free-spirited Californian that I am who despises obnoxious, rude jerks, like this guy, I screamed back: “Yeah?? And how rude of YOU to be screaming at ME! Welcome to Boston, HUH!??”

I could hardly wait to see the rest of this welcoming city.

Hello, Summer!

This morning, I got a text from my 16-year-old daughter: "I just took my last final! You own me a mani and a pedi!" Today is the last day of school for both my daughters.

The temptation to "check out" of school earlier, however, happened about two weeks ago. To keep their momentum going of staying focused on school, I did what any smart, hands-on parent would do: I bribed them. And it worked, because my teenager aced her finals. I'll be dialing up the nail salon right after I post this e-mail.

A few months ago, we weren't sure where to go for our summer vacation. Unlike vacations in the past, this year is an important one, as it will most likely be the last summer trip that we take together as the Three Muskateers. Next summer, my oldest daughter will be graduating from high school (I tear up just thinking about it!) and running off to Greece with her best friend. Her life with mom and baby sister will be history.

Yep, this year is an important vacation for us. We were booked on the European Disney Cruise for a year and a half, but pulled out at the last minute because I realized that once on board, I really wouldn't be spending much time with my daughters since they usually make fast friends and I never see them, except at dinner and when we turn in for the night. That's no way to spend our last vacation together.

Mexico would have been fun . . . a few years ago. Now with all the kidnappings going on, there is no way in HELL I would ever travel there. Not even to Tijuana! I don't care how many free trips are waved under my nose. Being grabbed by the drug lords and held for ransom is not my idea of a good time. And it would probably be a very extended vacation, as I'm not sure anyone would pay for my release.

So we're going to New York City and Boston. It's a smart decision, really. Not many kidnappings happening over there. My teenager is considering Boston University as a college choice, and she wants to check out the campus, so I thought it would be brilliant and very economical if we combined our summer vacation with a college tour. Of course we'll be catching a Broadyway show, too, in New York. "The Addams Family." It will be nice to be entertained by another dysfunctional family for a change.

Planes, trains, subways, ferries and lots of walking. That's how the three of us plan to spend our last summer vacation together.

I Crashed My Teen's Prom

One day my oldest daughter is making me a macaroni necklace for Mother’s Day and the next thing I know, I’m clasping a faux-diamond necklace around her neck for the Prom. Where did the years go, besides to my hips, butt and gut?

So this past weekend, my teenager attended her Junior Prom. As you can imagine from the photo I posted of her dress, she looked like a princess. (Have you ever seen a more beautiful gown?!) What was so cool about this dress is that no one else had it. It was last year’s model, hanging on a sales rack, just waiting for my daughter to claim it in the one and only size that happened to be hers.

We're talking Fate, here.

My daughter didn’t go to Prom with a boy. (And I can’t tell you what tremendous peace of mind that is going to give me nine months from now!) But instead of opting out of this age-defining event because there really wasn’t any boy she wanted to go with, she asked her best friend from Orange County to be her date. (I like that girls today can do that with complete confidence and no fear of backlash. And while I know it is a double standard, it would be really ODD if boys did the same thing, wouldn’t it?)

Tania, bless her heart, flew up here to Northern California on Friday. She stepped off the plane with a smallish suitcase, and no hang-bag. “Where’s her dress?” I wondered. We learned later that she had stuffed her gorgeous, transformative Prom gown into that little suitcase. I was concerned about the wrinkles, but Tania assured me that the wrinkles would work their way out on the hangar. (She was right!)

They woke up Saturday morning like it was their wedding day – full of excited energy for the evening to come, and talking about their hair and nail appointments they had scheduled that day.

I videotaped them getting ready, much to the annoyance of my teenager. Someday, she'll thank me. We took pictures, and then I drove them both to the dinner and dance, which was being held at their high school. A group of selfless parents had been working on this Prom for months, and earlier that day, had transformed the gym into a scene from Arabian Nights. They had created Middle Eastern magic, and it was an incredible sight, belly dancers and all.

Instead of leaving and going home, like I normally would after dropping her off at a dance, I stayed because I had volunteered to help the caterer serve dinner to the kids. My daughter was MORTIFIED! When she found out that I was going to be at the Prom, she said, “Don’t you EVER do that again, Mom!”

I understood where she was coming from, but I was a little hurt. I mean, who wouldn’t want their mother at their Junior Prom? I think I won back a few points when I promised her that I would keep my distance and not yell, “Hi, Honey!” from across the room.

I kept my promise, but I will admit that my eyes often sought her out in the crowd while I was clearing dishes off tables. She will never know how long I stared at her from the shadows of an Arabian Night, my beautiful vision of a daughter, laughing and dancing with her friends like a fairy nymph, her gold shoes that I had spent so much time trying to find around town, kicked off and nowhere in sight.

She will never know how full my heart was that night, and how the mental picture of her so young and happy and carefree, in love with life and so grateful that her best friend from Orange County was by her side, will be a memory that I will call upon often when she leaves my home next year and heads off to college.

Yes, I crashed my daughter’s Junior Prom. But in the end, I got what I came for.

Twitter Travel Party Tonight!

There's nothing really worth watching on TV tonight. No need to look. I already did. But your Monday evening doesn't have to be a total bust. If you're like me, you have your mind on summer vacation and are wondering where the heck you're going to take the family this year, right?

You'll find some GREAT ideas from other moms at TravelingMom.com's FIRST-EVER Twitter party! We'll be chatting for an hour about everyone's favorite topic - TRAVEL! Specifically, we'll cover fun themes like "How To Get Great Travel Deals" and "Relaxing on Vacation," plus doing TONS of fun giveaways!

Please, join us from 9:30-10:30 EASTERN STANDARD TIME . . . TONIGHT . . . to pick up some awesome travel tips and ideas for your family's summer vacation.

Here's the link: http://tinyurl.com/ye97azc

Baby Sister Tells All

Ever wonder what it's like to live with a teenager -- from a younger sister's point of view? I finally got my tween to sit down and tell us a little bit about life with her older sister. Please welcome my guest blogger today -- my youngest daughter, a teenager-in-training:

Living with a teenaged sister. Oh, boy. Where do I even begin?

I guess I could start with the good side of it. It’s really great to have somebody to look up to and to talk to when you need advice, because you know for sure that they already went through it. She understands me because we are alike in many ways.

We laugh at a lot of the same things, like the same things and of course dislike many of the same things. She also gives me tips on how to not only survive, but thrive, at school, which really helps instead of going into school totally clueless on how to act or what to do. Which is great.

But do we argue? Does the sun rise in the morning? Is grass green? Well, yes, OF COURSE we fight! It’s always about the dumbest things. Like, “Hey, why’d you borrow my shirt without asking?” or “Hello? I was watching that! Change it back!” Stupid stuff like that.

But for the most part, it’s pretty cool to have someone to be able to talk to and to look up to. She’s going to college next year, and I will miss her. But don’t you dare tell her that!