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!

How To Stop Teens From Texting While Driving

I just read about something that I think will put a lot of parents at ease. It's a new application for cell phones that won't allow you to text when you're in a car that is moving 5 mph or more. (Read here.)

The application is called iZup (Get it? Keep your "eyes up!"), and although many adults should probably install this app on their phones, it was really created for teenagers by a mother in Boston who was scared to death about her teenager getting distracted by texting while driving. (You rock, whoever you are!)

Let's face it, teens and driving don't always mix as it is. And when you add text messaging to that formula, well, the combination can be deadly.

My teenager is a few short weeks away from taking the wheel of my car. I plan to download this super-brilliant iZup application to her phone as a sort of "Welcome to the world of driving" gift.

I already gave her the gift of life. So I guess I'll be re-gifting.

Photo by Dan Gill for The New York Times

Miss Independence

Every morning, I roll out of bed like a good little trained mommy and head to the kitchen to make breakfast for my daughters before they rush off to school. Making sure they start the day with a nutritious meal (well, sometimes I make pancakes) is important to me, always has been, ever since they were young enough to nipple-feed.

I usually make their school lunches, too, right after the milk is poured, unless they’re buying that day.

Yep, preparing meals for our children is what good mothers do. But on the way to school today, my teenager shocked me. “Mom,” she announced, “I want to start making my own breakfast. And lunch, too.”

What’s going on here? Lately, she has really been thinking seriously about her future. And I like that. She’s only a junior, but she talks about college all the time and how she can’t wait to be on her own. Out of nowhere, she started getting A+’s. Not just A’s, but grades in the 100+ percentiles. Now, if you knew this text-messaging, iTunes-obsessed, MTV-watching girl like I do, you’d swear that she must be channeling someone else’s spirit. Someone who died at Harvard. Or Princeton.

In the car this morning, she told me that she wants to start doing more things for herself, like making her own breakfast, because she wants to feel more independent. She said she’s going to be leaving soon for college, and she needs to know how to take care of herself.

Isn’t this the moment every parent dreams of, the one that was first hatched somewhere between all the diaper changes and butt-wiping? “Gosh, I can’t wait until this child can take care of herself one day!”

That moment has arrived, folks -- all too soon, I might add. As I turn in for the night, I will happily change the settings on my alarm clock. Since I won't have to get up up bright and early to make breakfast anymore, I'll get to sleep in an extra half hour tomorrow. It will feel like an early Christmas.

But for my teenager, tomorrow will be more like Independence Day.

Photo by Photographer Chuck Felix