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Bare, naked ladies
There's not much room to commune with your own nudity, or anyone else's, in a swimming-pool locker room full of wary onlookers.
By Jennifer New
[07/02/99]

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Optimistic complaints
Of course, mothers think -- and every once in a while they even complain.
By Sallie Tisdale
[07/01/99]

Postnuptial blues
After the wedding bells stopped ringing, she wanted nothing but sleep.
By Ellie Forgotson
[06/30/99]

The write time
One classmate is on her way to literary fame, anointed by the New Yorker; the other's on her way to the grocery store.
By Tracy Mayor
[06/29/99]

Problem family
When domestic abuse showed up in my neighborhood, I had to decide whether to help or keep my distance.
By Jill Wolfson
[06/28/99]

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"Look, honey, you're invited to a party this Saturday," you croon to your darling offspring.

Inwardly, you cringe, knowing exactly what this means: a precious weekend afternoon squandered at an ear-splittingly loud kiddie restaurant in a soulless suburban strip mall.

The chaos of two-dozen 6-year-olds vying for attention and plopping coins into impossibly noisy video games. The screeching. The clanging of bells, the pulsating music, the stage show featuring animated characters that no one seems to be watching as they tear into their pizza, their little mouths smeared with greasy orange sauce. And then there is the aftermath -- a sugared-up, over-stimulated kid clutching a ripped goodie bag, furious that the festivities have ended, refusing to put her shoes on and whining about how unfair it is that Megan got a Rugrats stamper as a prize and she didn't.

The question I silently pose to myself each time is this: Take the Extra-Strength Tylenol beforehand as a preventative, or wait for the headache to actually kick in?

I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired of schlepping my kids to round after round of birthday parties that have become meaningless exercises in one-upmanship, wretched excess or sheer overload.

My 7-year-old daughter recently attended one in a spacious karate studio. The instructor encouraged guests to leap, screech, slam into punching bags and kick at imaginary enemies. They marveled, wide-eyed, as he cracked a wooden board in two with his bare hands. It was a very impressive event, a way for young 'uns to expel some of their enviable, boundless energy while learning rudimentary martial arts.

But it didn't stop there. Kicking off the second round of entertainment, a clown suddenly appeared, equipped with a guitar, sheet music and a bag brimming with balloons. She cleverly twisted pastel-colored balloons into nifty shapes for each guest after she'd led them in a sing-along. Each kid then received not one, but two goodie bags, the first containing candies, and the second filled with stampers, markers, and (get this!) a hand-sewn Blue's Clues stuffed animal, courtesy of the child's mother.

I do admire this woman's stamina and her way with the needle and thread. But if you're not exactly the Martha Stewart of mothers, how can you keep up?

Another gala in my daughter Katharina's social circle featured a "real-life" Barbie who assisted a dozen 6-year-old girls with dress-up attire and taught them how to sashay down a runway like a real model. Unfortunately, my firstborn had to decline this invitation. Not just because any self-respecting feminist mother would balk at the concept, but because she had a previous commitment -- another birthday party.

So far I've only mentioned parties given by little girls. But my research shows that mothers of boys experience similarly excessive gatherings, like the ever-popular laser-tag parties. Held in vast, black-lit warehouses, these events enable junior guerrillas to race through a labyrinthine space "shooting" at each other with mini-laser guns. The last kid "alive" is the winner.

Another mother I know relates the details of an all-boys party at a swank health club. For two hours, teenage instructors led the kids in a series of Xtreme games, like swinging on ropes and zooming down indoor, man-made "hills" on skateboards. Each kid was then rewarded with an electronic hand-held video game, in addition to the "regular" goodie bag filled with sweets!

Whatever happened to pin the tail on the donkey, or other wholesome games, like hitting a piņata? Does anyone have at-home parties with cake and ice cream anymore?

Next page | Barbie and Blue's Clues got nuthin' on Cher