I (Wanna) Know What You Did Last Summer

No more teachers, no more books, and lots more excuses not to cook. School’s out and summer’s here. What’s it like at your house: “Hooray” or “Oy, vey” (that’s New York-speak for “Uh, oh”)? Recognizing that there are two sides to the season (yes! no schedules but oh, no: there’s all that time to fill…), WNBC-TV in New York has asked me to chat on air this Tuesday, July 3 in the 5:30 pm segment of "News 4 U" with Perri Peltz about how to keep the kiddies occupied (and their moms from going off the deep end).

We all know the pleasures of summer: no getting up early for school, staying up late stressing over homework, sticking to the schedule, and chauffeuring thespians or ball players to play and team practices. No more running out to Target at 8:50 pm to get the missing vital part of the dinosaur diorama or dealing with tears over the times tables. But the flip side of the season? No school to keep the kids busy and lots of extra schlepping to camps and summer programs, plus the strong probability that someone related to you will whine “But there’s nothing to do” at least once every four hours or before dropping the ice cream cone on the pavement, whichever comes first.

Sure, kids (and parents) need to chill out after the stresses of increasingly ratcheted up academic experiences. Summer should absolutely be a time to relax and scarf up some more S’Mores. But too much unstructured time offers up its own set of challenges: how do you keep the kids occupied but yourself sane?

So help me out here, please:
What are some of your favorite boredom-busting summer strategies?

The Yolk's On Me

Explode. Who knew that eggs could even do such a thing? But thanks to my recent multi-tasking-fueled cooking/science experiment (AKA The Curious Case of the Exploding Eggs), I’ve discovered another exciting new egg preparation method. I mean really, just about anyone can serve eggs up the old ho hum ways: scrambled, hard or soft boiled, in an omelet, fried over easy, etc. How many cooks can claim they’ve actually exploded them?

Well, me, for one. Last week we had 18 people over for a barbeque at our house. The day before, I decided to get a jump on the spinach salad I would be serving by hard boiling four eggs for the garnish. So I threw ‘em in a pot of water and wary about a watched pot not boiling, headed upstairs to make a phone call. My mission? To try and hunt down some new towels for our kids’ bathroom; I had found two earlier in the day in our local Linens ‘n Things and planned on letting my fingers do the walking to find the rest I needed in another nearby store in the chain.

Forty-five minutes later I was hanging on the phone with Leticia, the planet’s most patient sales clerk, when the hubby informed me that “my” eggs (funny, we had never labeled our food before) had blown up all over the kitchen floor and counters. He kindly turned off the stove before proceeding to head out to a guy (read: gory) movie with our son. And really, I would’ve gone right down to clean up the mess but Leticia had me on hold and as together we had invested close to two man (alright, woman) hours in The Big Towel Search, I was loathe to just hang up.

Fortunately, Leticia ended up finding the towels. And even better: by the time I decided to face the aftermath of my culinary explosion, the dogs had beaten me to it.

The Slacker Mom Thing: The Sequel

Now that all the excitement over my fleeting fame on “The Today Show” last Friday has died down, some more thoughts on the whole alpha vs. slacker mom thing.

To review: the aired segment was three minutes long, my appearance just a fraction of that. The taping, during which I answered assorted questions, lasted about 45 minutes. So, even I can do the math: lots of what I said was left on the cutting room floor.

One thing which I had anticipated would stir up some controversy was the use of the term slacker itself. And, I believe, rightly so. “Slacker,” with its negative connotation, is not a term I would personally have chosen to describe the opposite of the so-called alpha mom. “Beta” would have been a better, less offensive choice for all the more mellow, laid back moms out there. Unfortunately, slacker just has a snazzier sound to it, and because of that, it seems to be the term that much of the media has embraced.

Part of what I said that didn’t make it into the piece is that a slacker mom is not comatose, neglectful, or abusive – she just cuts herself some slack in that not everything she does has to look or be perfect. I also added that both kinds of moms get the job done, and that indeed, on the alpha/slacker continuum, most moms falls somewhere in between, myself included, depending upon what’s happening in their lives and those of their kids. It goes without saying that a mom of younger children is going to be more intensely involved in their lives than one whose kids are older; ditto if one’s child has or is experiencing any particular difficulties or challenges.

In fact, for these reasons and others, I prefer describing the two ends of the mothering style continuum as “helicoptering” (e.g. hovering closely over one’s children) and, a term I coined in this blog earlier this year, “on auto-pilot.” I like to think of myself as more of an auto-pilot mom. If parenting is the ultimate road trip, auto-pilot moms keep a lighter touch on the steering wheel; they set a course and watch it unfold. If everything is humming along with their kids, they don’t feel the need to intervene. But if one of them encounters a traffic jam, roadblock, or other obstruction, the auto-pilot mom jumps in and overrides the automatic steering system to take a more active role.

Whatever term we use – or don’t use – to describe our own mothering style, I say kudos to us all for the great (and all too frequently unacknowledged) jobs we’re doing to raise our kids.

PS: And yes, being on TV was a blast! Thank you to “The Today Show” for inviting me to weigh in on this topic on the air.

I Wanna Parenting Do-Over

"The thing that impresses me the most about America is the way parents obey their children." King Edward VIII (1894-1972) Well, this royal was obviously ahead of his time. I’m sure he’d positively roll over in his grave if he had a listen in on what goes on chez moi (yours too, perchance?).

This quote did start me thinking. And the thought was that I wish I had been stricter with my kids were they were younger. I don’t spend my time regretting much in the way of my parenting – what’s done is done, after all – but if I had it to do over again, I think I would’ve been tougher, especially about doing chores.

So tell us, what would (or will) you do differently when it comes to raising your kids?

The Poor Patient's Spa

It's a tip-off that you could use a little more R & R when you describe a medical procedure as relaxing. The other day I went for a sonogram of my thyroid (fortunately, everything was fine). If you’re not familiar with this kind of procedure, basically you are lying down on a cushioned table while someone rolls a gel-covered wand thing all over your neck for about 30 minutes.

The lights were low, the room was hushed, the table nice and padded, and yup, you guessed it, I fell asleep. There was some confusion about the doctor coming in to take a second look at the monitor, after which the technician apologized for my having to wait so long. Thank you for your patience, she said. No, thank you, I was quick to reply.

Because getting this test was easily the most relaxing time I’d spent all week. In fact, throw a few candles around and pipe in some soft New Age music, and bingo, I’m thinking spa.

On the Chain Gang

I thought chain letters went the way of the Pony Express and party lines. Unfortunately, I was wrong. A few weeks ago I received a letter in the mail from my (now former) friend Sheri. Of course, receiving anything other than a bill or credit card statement via snail mail should’ve been my first tip-off. “This is not a chain letter” the missive began. “It’s a fun sport sock exchange.”

Hmm. Who couldn’t use a few extra cute sports socks, especially in the summer, I thought. So breaking my own rule about participating in chain letters (because after all this was an “exchange” and not a chain, per se), I took the plunge. And being the obsessive person I am, I had copied and mailed out the letter to my six carefully selected victims, I mean, friends, the same night I received it. I even hand-delivered my pair of socks to Sheri when I saw her the next day. Done! All I had to do then was sit back and wait for all that footwear to start rolling in. By some complicated feat of math I could never begin to untangle, if I sent the letter to six other people and gave a pair of socks to the one person at the top of the list, I could expect something like 237.5 pairs to come my way.

My feet and I are still waiting.

Of course, soon after I sent the letter, two of my recipients called to tell me that they couldn’t “participate” because they couldn’t come up with six other people who hadn’t already been tapped for this particular scam, I mean, exchange. But still, not even one measly little pair of socks for all my trouble?

The whole sock saga triggered memories of participating in other “exchanges” throughout the years; recipes and children’s picture books come to mind. Through the same magic of math, I was supposed to receive libraries full of each; the yield was actually more like two and one, respectively.

But before I run out to Costco to replenish my sport sock wardrobe, I’m dying to know: has anyone ever participated in one of these things and actually had it work?

The Best Ever Dad’s Day Gift

Wracking your brain for the perfect dad's day gift? Forget the tie. Get your dad or hubby something that’ll really show him how much he's loved: a blood test. Yup, you read that right: a blood test. Make an appointment for him to have a simple PSA test that screens for prostate cancer. Then make sure he actually goes for it, with or without you.

This little two-minute test (in the arm, by the way, just so we're straight on that) could save his life. It did for a close friend of mine. Fit, active, and with no symptoms or family history whatsoever, this 52-year-old man’s prostate cancer was detected by a routine blood test during his annual physical. Fortunately, it was caught early and treated successfully. If he hadn’t had that PSA test when he did, the cancer would most likely have spread and the outcome would have been very, very different.

One in six men will get prostate cancer in his lifetime; about 235,000 Americans will be diagnosed with it this year. And as my example shows, it is not just a disease of the elderly, either.

So for this Father’s Day, give your dad or hubby the perfect one-size-fits-all, no-need-to-return-it gift: make him an appointment for the PSA blood test, and then, make sure he goes for it. No wrapping other than a teeny band-aid required, too.

PS: Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. If you've already gone for your PSA test, then go ahead and tie one on.

Working It

Another big difference between work and home? How could I forget this one. At the office, not only do people (occasionally) thank me for a job well done, they actually give me money for doing it. At home, the thanks are few and far between – and way less often than the times that I am hit up by my offspring for some of the green stuff they give me at work.

Then, too, nobody has ever cried for me outside a closed bathroom door or pitched a fit while I was talking on the phone at the office. I know they call it “work” for a reason, but sometimes, and especially when my kids were little, going to a place full of grownups, very few of who threw temper tantrums, almost felt, well, relaxing, at least in comparison to the sticky fingered chaos that waited for me when I came home.

Anybody else ever feel the same way?

And Not on "Today" Tomorrow: Me

Whoops. Stop the TiVo’s.

To all my faithful blog buddies (and the additional 327 close friends, neighbors, and people on the supermarket check-out line that my mother-in-law informed): my appearance on “The Today Show” has been changed again. (As they say, that's show biz.)

So now look for me (and my French manicure) on Friday, June 22 (instead of Wednesday, June 13) – but still in the 8 am hour – as I weigh in on the latest skirmish in the Mommy Wars: the alpha vs. slacker moms.

PS: Gosh, I hope I wasn't bumped by Paris' Tales From Jail.

Inquiring Moms Want to Know

The other night, our two dogs took my son and me for a leisurely walk around the block. Aha! I thought. A perfect opportunity to spend a little quality time together—my son and I, that is; the dogs and I are positively drowning in quality time, what with me being their primary personal chef and all. So as the dogs sniffed at things I tried not to get too close to and otherwise explored the great outdoors, I attempted to engage my son in a little friendly conversation.

ME: “So, how are you?”
HIM: “Fine.”
ME: “How’s the summer intern thing going?”
HIM: “It’s good.”
ME: “So, tell me. Are you planning to shave anytime within the next fiscal year?”
HIM: “God, mom, are you such a nag at work, too? I bet you’re the one that everyone complains about around the water cooler.”

Well, gosh, I certainly hope not. I actually think I may be pretty popular around my office, except maybe with the person I outted for “borrowing” the chicken from my lunch. But whether popular or just pleasantly delusional, I do know that when I ask a co-worker what they thought of "Knocked Up," or if they found a new apartment, or which college their daughter had decided to attend, they actually seem happy to answer. Me, a nag? I don't think so. I prefer to think of myself as “politely curious and interested in other people.”

So basically, I realize, the difference between home and work is at work, people are happy to answer my questions and then ask me some of their own. At home, someone likes to keep the chit chat to a minimum. Except, of course, when he’s a little short of the price of that concert ticket.

Confessions of a Non-Shoe Addict

Unlike most American women, I don’t have a thing for shoes. I know, unbelievable right? I mean I like and certainly wear them, but to me, shoes are just another accessory. Scoring The Perfect Pair doesn’t make my heart race.

My thing is for books. I always have several going at a time, and like a chain smoker, the first one is barely finished before I light into a fresh one. When I board an airplane, I carry three with me: 1) the one I am currently reading, 2) another in case I finish the first, and 3) a third in case the second turns out to be a dud. I even pay to belong to an incredible library in another state (lest you think I am totally off-the-wall, it’s only 15 minutes from my home) just to take out all the latest best-sellers, and let me tell you, it’s the best money I’ll ever spend. I get a palpable rush when I pick up a stack of the latest I’ve put on reserve.

And while it’s true I read voraciously, don’t think I am doing so solely to broaden my intellectual horizons; my oeuvre of choice is all over the Dewey Decimal System, from Princess Di bios and the Devil Wears Prada-derivatives (I work for a magazine, after all), to a mix of non-fiction (I just finished The Feminine Mistake) and fiction by such authors as Cathleen Schine (I’m reading The New Yorkers now), Anita Shreve (just finished Body Surfing), Maeve Binchy, etc.

So, what’s your non-shoe drug of choice? And what are you reading these days?

Alpha or Slacker Mom: Recognize Anyone?

Welcome to the next big skirmish in the so-called "Mommy Wars": the all-perfect, always-matching "Alpha moms" vs. the more relaxed, go with the flow "Slacker moms".

(Check out the video from the Today Show!)

The Alpha mom has been showing up with increasing regularity recently on both the playground and in the pages of all the parenting magazines. But some recent trends suggest a backlash: hence, the rise in the number of moms who say they are "Slackers" and proud of it. And guess what? While no one is saying that one mothering style is superior to the other, some experts suggest that there are actually real benefits to getting in touch with your Slacker side. Kids whose moms back off a bit and let them do more for themselves may have more opportunities to learn from both their successes and their failures and thus develop greater self-confidence and independence.

So, in one corner, meet the dot every “i” and cross every “t” Alpha mom. If parenting were a class in school, she’d be the one going for every last extra-credit point. Alphas hand out home-grown organic carrots (“nature’s own candy”) for Halloween, shelve their toddler’s picture books according to the Dewy Decimal System, and color-code their carpool schedules, in triplicate.

And in the other corner? Meet the way, way laid back and oh-so-mellow Beta or Slacker mom. She’s the one content to squeak by with a passing grade in Motherhood 101. Slackers leave an open box of Lucky Charms on their doorsteps for Trick or Treaters, conveniently place their kids’ library on the bathroom floor, and use the back of the carpool schedule to write a note to the teacher about why Fruit By The Foot should be considered a school-friendly healthy snack.

If Alphas are overly involved in every last bit of minutia in their kids’ lives, right down to personalizing each goody bag with glued on rhinestones, Slackers are content to take things as they come (what goody bags?). Alphas get the job done AND everything matches. Slackers get the job done, too—the results just may not be pretty.

Not sure where you fit in? Take our quiz to find out if your an Alpha mom or a Slacker mom. Then, once you know your parenting style, post it loud and proud on our "Are you an 'Alpha mom' or a 'Slacker mom' " poll!

Poll: What kind of mom are you?

Not sure where you fit in? See what our expert Laurie Yarnell has to say about the issue and take our quiz to find out if your an Alpha mom or a Slacker mom.

My Fingernails & Their Five Seconds of Fame

If you had a total of 2 ½ hours to get ready to appear on national TV, what would you do? If you’re like me, first you’d freak out. Then you’d ask yourself, “How can I transform myself into Jennifer Aniston?” followed quickly by “And what am I going to wear?”

It’s a documented fact that although 72.8% of American women have closets so full of clothes they contain certified relics with shoulder pads, when push comes to shove, none of us really has A Thing To Wear. So you can understand why I went into panic mode after I received an e-mail at 3:00 pm last Monday, Memorial Day, asking me to be taped last Wednesday morning for a future segment of “The Today Show.” Because I had to work all day Tuesday, that left 150 minutes to get myself what I needed before the stores closed early at 5:30 pm on the Monday evening of the holiday.

It was triage time: could I find something in my closet that would work? And, if not, should I look for something new to wear or squeeze in a professional manicure? Consummate multi-tasker that I am, I decided to do both, though I knew that the chances of anyone really seeing my cuticles, let alone my hands, during the minute or so I would be on camera, would be slim to none. I just thought I’d feel more put together with manicured nails, so I decided to go for it.

I ran to a nail place that was open on the holiday, then drove with my fingertips up against my car’s air conditioning vents on the way to Banana Republic, where I proceeded to blitz-purchase a great-looking (I hope) teal shirt and black linen pants. The decision to go with the manicure was right on, by the way. Turns out, the cameraman spent five solid minutes filming my hands in close-up as I wrote a blog entry on my laptop (actually, the post was just “I can’t believe I am typing this on national TV!!!” over and over again, but you get the idea). And even though that'll probably get cut down to five seconds when the segment airs, my fingernails will be front and center that whole time.

Stay tuned to see my manicure (and the teal shirt) on Wednesday, June 13 in the 8:00 am hour of “The Today Show” on NBC. (And, oh yeah, to hear me talk about the latest skirmish in the "Mommy Wars.")

Who Moved My Chicken?

I starred in my own real life episode of “The Office” this week at work.

If your workplace is anything like mine – whether it’s the desk where you pay bills at home or a warren of cookie cutter corporate cubicles – food is very, very high up there on the list of Stuff That Matters. And I don’t think I am going out on a limb here when I say that something like 89.3% of all workplace kitchens have a refrigerator stuffed to the gills with unidentified fossilized food matter dating back to the Paleozoic Age.

It was in one such refrigerator that I deposited my lunch – grilled chicken strips and a side green salad in a see-through plastic container clearly marked with my first and last name. After surfacing later in the day from a two-hour meeting, the thought of any sustenance was looking pretty darn good. So when my pal John casually mentioned that he had spotted my lunch out on the kitchen counter, I just assumed that someone had had to move things around to get to their own food and forgotten to put mine back in the fridge.

I ambled over to the kitchen. Sure enough, the plastic container marked “LAURIE YARNELL” in big black letters, sat on the counter. I picked it up and brought it back to my office, where I proceeded to slog my way through some of the 32 e-mails that had piled up in my in-box during my absence. When I went to take the top of the container off, I did notice it was a little loose. Hmm. That’s odd, I recall thinking to myself. But when I took a closer look at my lunch, I discovered something odder still: salad but no chicken.

Yuck. Someone had helped himself to the chicken and then left the remainder of the meal back out on the kitchen counter. After my work pals and I recovered from our 1) revulsion and 2) uncontrollable hysterics, we set out to do a little Dwight Schrute-style detecting. But alas, after much careful reconstruction of the crime scene and determined sleuthing, the culprit remains at large to this day. If he’s reading this, though, I guess he found his glasses.