Click on read more to see what you can expect at the Brooklyn Baby Expo:

* Mini demos and mini seminars on everything from setting good sleep habits, learning CPR, how to make baby and toddler food, how to install a car seat, school zoning, nursing, how to select a nanny or doula, cloth diapering and more.

* Full 45 minute seminars by famous experts on “Raising A Good Sleeper”, “Best Baby Gear Gurus….tell all!”, “Greening Your Home”, “Parenting Partnerships: how to make it work”, “Expectant Parents Guide to Brooklyn” all with great raffle prizes for seminar attendees: like Stokke and Boon high chairs, strollers, organic mattress and more. For the list of seminars available go here.

* Try out different carriers, stroller fitness, laser therapy for pre- and post-natal conditions, ways to clean your childrens’ teeth, try stylish maternity and post-baby clothes and get really fitted for a bra.

* Get pampered with mini-manicures, blow-outs and savor catered food from Brooklyn Fare.

* Your children will be amused by baby yoga, tummy time, first lock cuts, haircuts, and can chill in the nursing lounge or take a romp in the B. Playful room stocked with b. toys.

* Check out our amazing list of exhibitors from national companies to the best NYC resources available to parents.

* You can get some of your shopping done with our exhibitors, from furniture to strollers (some with discounts) to organic baby blankets to the great clothes for you and your child.

* The first 250 registered families will leave with bountiful eco-bags from LuLu’s Cuts and Toys filled with fabulous finds from: Boon, Dr. Browns, Eebee, Seventh Generation, CalNaturale Svelte, Giggle, Boogie Wipes, Belly Bar, Soyjoy, Choices in Childbirth, Boiron, NY City Explorers, Britax, Stroller Strides, Ruckus Mobile Media and more. Total retail value of over $120
* Every attendee receives a FREE subscription to Time Out New York Kids.

Tickets and registration:
Tickets may be purchased at http://www.achildgrows.com/register/
Price: $35 per ticket or $60 for two tickets. Tickets at the door are $45 each.  All activities, seminar and demos included in admission price. The first 250 registered families receive gift bags: total retail value of over $120. (That means sign up early!)

Smartmom bought her Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree from the
Vermont tree farmers who set up in front of the Park Slope Food Co-op
 every year. It was $20, which is a lot to pay for what was more like a
branch. But the gangly tree caught her eye and seemed lovable in its 
own — slightly pathetic — way.

As Smartmom walked home, she knew her little tree was a far cry from
the huge, tree that Hepcat’s mom always sets up in her humongous
California living room and decorates with a lifetime’s collection of
vintage ornaments. The fragrance of pine and hot apple cider permeates
the house as a fire roars.

Christmas with Hepcat’s family is a Jewish girl’s fantasy, and
 Smartmom loves that her inter-faith children have such holiday’s in
their memory banks of childhood.

Smartmom knows she could never match that level of Christmasness:
she’s Jewish, for Buddha’s sake, and any attempt at Christmas is
fraught with inexperience and ambivalence. But this year, the family is
spending Christmas in Brooklyn.

This has happened three times before in
 her children’s lifetimes. Turns out, Teen Spirit is thrilled because 
all of his friends will be home from college and he’s excited to hang out 
with them. The Oh So Feisty One has mixed feelings about not being in
 California, but she, too, is glad to be near her friends.

Walking up Seventh Avenue with her tiny tree conveniently tucked 
under her arm, Smartmom remembered 2007 when they bought a huge
 Christmas tree and it was like Rockefeller Center in the apartment
 because the Oh So Feisty One kept bringing friends in and out to see it.

Now Smartmom worried that OSFO and Teen Spirit would feel cheated by
this year’s tiny tree. But she tried not to worry about it. She was 
already stressing about how to make this as nice a Christmas as the 
one’s they spend in California. O the pressure, o the guilt, o the need
to meet everyone’s expectations at this time of year.

When Smartmom got home with her tree, Hepcat rolled his eyes (it
 sure looked that way to Smartmom). He wondered how they were going to
get the tiny tree to stand up in the metal tree holder intended for a
much larger tree.

“Don’t worry I’ll figure it out,” Hepcat said sounding alternately
annoyed and excited at a challenge that required a trip into the metal
tool box. When he got his saw out, Smartmom knew things were getting 
complicated.

“Don’t worry. I just need to saw off a few branches,” he said.

“But there won’t be much tree left!” she told him.

“Calm down,” he said.

When he went out to Tarzian Hardware for more supplies, Smartmom
realized that this project was becoming a real production. It might
have been easier just to get a bigger tree.

Smartmom waited anxiously for Hepcat to return. Why did holidays
 feel like a referendum on her capabilities as a mother and a wife?
 Would this little tree be enough for Christmas?

Finally, Hepcat returned, and Smartmom watched as her handy (i.e.
non-Jewish) husband, a genius at solving random engineering problems,
made it possible for her tiny tree to stand. Smartmom gave him a big
kiss as relief pulsed through her.

Smartmom found all their ornaments in a mildewed bag in the
basement. It was like a reunion with old friends. Sadly, she had to
throw out quite a few that were growing mold on them.

Later, Diaper Diva and Ducky came over to join in on the tiny tree
trimming. Smartmom even made hot chocolate. The tree was exactly as
tall as 5-year-old Ducky, and she had a great time decorating.

When Teen Spirit woke up (it was 2 pm), he came into the room and stared at the sweet little tree.

“I know, I know. It’s a Charlie Brown tree,” Smartmom said in anticipation of a snarky remark.

“I like it. I really do. I just think we should put a huge ornament on it so it’ll droop,” he said.

Teen Spirit felt moved to download some of his favorite Christmas
songs: “Blue Christmas” by Elvis Presley, “Fairytale Christmas” by the
Pogues and “Merry Christmas, Baby” by Otis Redding.

Smartmom sat on her new couch 
and observed the scene, which was like something out of a Frank Capra
Christmas movie. Her interfaith family was having an idyllically good
time decorating their tiny tree. Ducky was busy cutting out a paper
star and coloring it with red and green crayons. Diaper Diva was
alternately napping and supervising Ducky. Teen Spirit, inspired by his
Christmas playlist, decided that he was going to write a Christmas song
and was fiddling with various chords, melodies and lyrics. Hepcat found
tiny battery-operated lights that fit perfectly on the tiny tree.

And OSFO she took one look at the scene and made a bee-line for a friend’s house.

The gift-giving time of the year sometimes brings out the worst in OSFO and Teen Spirit. The trouble is: they get way too excited about getting presents, their expectations run sky high, and disappointment is sure to ensue.

Then there’s the fact that they celebrate both Hanukah and Christmas. That is, they do Hanukah with Smartmom’s relatives in New York and Christmas with Hepcat’s family in California. This means that OSFO and Teen Spirit tear through gift wrap on numerous occasions during the holiday season.

Like all happy occasions, a gift giving event often begins or ends in tears. They can be tears of impatience as in:
Child: When are we opening the presents?
Parent: Soon.
Child: Can I just open one?
Parent: No!!
Child: Pleeeeeze? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Or tears can be induced by over-excitement and frustration as in:
Child: Can we please put together my new Karaoke tape player and microphone?
Parent: No, people are still opening their gifts.
Child: Couldn’t you just help me?
Parent: Not now!!
Child: Pleeeeeze? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Then there are the tears of disappointment as in:
Child: I didn’t get anything I liked.
Parent; Yes you did.
Child: Like what?
Parent: Well, you got that nice…
Child: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

There are also the tears caused by a combination of excitement and disappointment as in:
Child: It’s not working
Parent: “I’m sure it’s working.
Child: No, it’s not working, somebody better fix it now.
Parent: I’m doing the dishes.
Child: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

You get the picture. While these are obviously just made-up scenarios, there is more than a little verisimilitude in each one. And these scenes make Smartmom absolutely livid.

This year, Smartmom has tried to prepare OSFO for the possibility that she might be disappointed on one of these so-called happy occasions. “Sometimes you don’t get what you want,” she said. “And it helps not to set your expectations too high. Smartmom and OSFO have also practiced the art of getting a gift you don’t like.” It is polite,” Smartmom instructed, “to say ‘thank you’ even if you despise the item that you’ve just opened.”

Smartmom and OSFO practiced this a few times until OSFO got sick and tired of the exercise (and the idea that she might get something she doesn’t want.)

Smartmom also told OSFO to guard against becoming a gimme, gimme, gimme kind of person. “Children who get too many gifts get spoiled because they stop appreciating things,” Smartmom warned. “It is important not to take anything for granted,” she said. “Recognize how lucky you are to have what you have.”

Smartmom was just seconds away from saying, “And there are children starving in Africa…”

Truth is, the fact that OSFO and Teen Spirit are “spoiled” is largely the fault of their loving relatives (parents included) who love to shower them with whatever their heart’s desire. It comes from love but it often ends in “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And that’s just part of the problem. Capitalism absolutely depends on an almost constant desire for things.

So here goes New Year’s resolution #2005:

Smartmom wants to teach her children to be givers not receivers. She wants them to be generous, to be empathic, to enjoy doing unto others (in whatever form that takes). She wants them to know that giving is its own reward and Karma is a boomerang. She wants them to understand that if they are going to be good citizens of this crazy world, they have to be part of the solution not the problem.

Again. Cliche, cliche, cliche. But it’s all true. And so much of parenting is instilling what is true. Even if they are platitudes, even if they are cliches. It’s important to try to give your kids the gift of good values. That’s a parent’s job above all. A gift they will cherish forever.

We rushed home and she was already elevating her foot and icing it with a bag of frozen peas.

Ice and elevate. That’s my girl.

This morning she still couldn’t walk on it and we went to The Orthopedic Urgent Care Center at the Hospital for Joint Diseases, which is essentially a 24-hour emergency room for orthopedic issues.

301 East 17th Street just east of Second Avenue. Write that down. This place, which I’ve been to twice before, is really good to know about.

The service was fairly quick and very helpful. We  met with a very nice nurse and doctor and her foot was x-rayed. The doctor told us that, luckily, nothing was broken but that she should wear an air cast and use crutches (both of which were supplied to us at the hospital). He told her to ice and elevate and explained everything very thoroughly and carefully.

We were out of there in less than two hours and she was well cared for. Good deal. OSFO is limping about and practicing with her crutches. She should be feeling better in about two weeks, when she can take the air cast off.

In 2005 my daughter took it upon herself to decorate our building, an 8-unit limestone, with handmade Halloween decorations.

The first week of October, she made numerous drawings — wonderful ghouls, howling dogs, witches, and devils — and taped them on the walls of  the public hallway.

Earlier in the the week at Little Things, we found a soft Dracula candy holder she couldn’t live without. I picked up some candy corn and Halloween signs at Save-on-Fifth. And the Food Coop had some of the most beautifully patterned gourds I have ever seen.

Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.  (that’s the sound of an old fashioned cash register).

Last night, everything came together: we made a make-shift table out of grocery boxes and used a sparkly silver fabric as a tablecloth. We put it in the hallway by our front door and filled Dracula with candy corn and M&Ms, and little plastic pumpkins.

Voila. I think we’re done. For now.

The sweet sweetness of the candy corn is already getting to me. The chaps for my daughter’s cowgirl costume are at the dry cleaners getting hemmed. My son hasn’t even mentioned his pirate costume (I guess at 14 you don’t need to involve your parents anymore). We’ve got a heinously busy weekend planned.

Take a deep breath and get ready for Halloween.

Halloween morning 2005, the kids popped out of bed early, ready for their breakfast candy. “Stop stealing from the trick or treat bowl. That’s for later,” Hepcat bellowed. Even Teen Spirit, who is historically difficult to rouse in the morning, was up and ready for high school in record time, his pockets stuffed with Hershey’s kisses.

The Oh So Feisty One packed her cowgirl chaps in her pink backpack. “Just in case my teacher lets us put on our costumes.” This was unlikely because her school prohibits any recognition of Halloween in sensitivity to the children whose religious beliefs prevent them from participating.

Smartmom tried to get some work done Monday but by 2 p.m, she surrendered to the reality that Monday afternoon and evening were for one thing and one thing only: Halloween.

First crisis of the day was the case of the missing cowboy hat: OSFO searched the apartment high and low. Smartmom finally unearthed it underneath Teen Spirit’s bed.

Second crisis: Teen Spirit needed a shirt for his impromptu pirate costume. “You can wear this black shirt of Dad’s.” Smartmom told him. “No he can’t,” Hepcat screamed from the living room. “That’s my special shirt.”

“it’s alright, mom,” Teen Spirit told Smartmom ever-attentive to Hepcat’s moods.

They did manage to find a billowy white shirt in the closet. Teen Spirit strapped on his belt, plastic sword, and the pirate hat he’d purchased at Rite Aid, ready to join a band of roving teenage pirates who were waiting downstairs.

Aargh.

Trick or Treating on Seventh Avenue, OSFO was, characteristically, driven to procure as much candy as she could possibly fit into her shopping bag. They were joined by Ducky (age 1), who was dressed in a zip-up bunny costume with little paw gloves and a cloth carrot.

Her first Halloween ever – god knows what Ducky was thinking. Big brown eyes open wide, she inhaled the crazy costumed scene from her stroller.

The group went back to Groovy Aunt’s for some apartment-building style trick or treating. Volume is what that’s all about. “Let’s see,” OSFO calculated. “They’ve got six floors and eight apartments on each floor…”

OSFO hasn’t learned her multiplication tables yet, but still, that’s a lot of candy.

Third Crisis: OSFO developed Halloween fatigue mixed with an acute case of “not being the center of attention.”

That darn baby in that darn bunny suit: Ducky was sucking all the attention out of the room with a straw. OSFO ripped off her cowgirl chaps and flung her Payless cowgirl boots across the living room and staged a a world-class snitsky. Arms tightly crossed, she faced a wall and snarled. The only remedy: a large does of alone time.

Rejuvenated by a few minutes of quiet and three mini Twix bars, OSFO was ready for a little trick or treating and the Halloween parade. “The houses with the Jack-O-lanterns are the ones with the candy,” she said with the assuredness of a seasoned navigator. Racing up and down the brownstone stoops, she rang on door bells and filled her bag with more candy.

Crisis number four: By the time they got to the parade, it was over. The streets were filled with teenagers. Teen Spirit was spotted in front of Starbucks with a can of shaving cream – horror of horrors. Strange to say, with all her worries about sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, Smartmom never once imagined he’d be a shaving cream trickster.

Live and learn. Hepcat trailed Teen Spirit and the teenage pirates to Barnes and Noble and insisted that he be home by nine.

Before bedtime, OSFO weighed her Halloween treat bag on the bathroom scale: “I’ve got five pounds of candy. Don’t anybody touch it,” she screamed and then proceeded to stash it in her secret hide-a-way.

Halloween Crisis number five: The day after Halloween, Teen Spirit couldn’t keep his eyes open during English class. He fell asleep on his desk. Smartmom hopes he didn’t snore. Now that would be very distracting.

How was your Halloween?

Smartmom ran over to the window, opened it and screamed out to Third Street:

“Faster, walk faster,” she said. “You’re not to be late on your first day of school.”

OSFO’s response will not be printed here.

At 8:30 Smartmom walked over to PS 321 to catch Ducky’s first day of first grade. First grade. The little red headed girl was so eager to meet her teacher and see her new classroom that she didn’t even want to play on the jungle gym in the playground. She did, however, give her kindergarten teacher a big hug and Diaper Diva is said to have shed a tear. Post hug, Ducky hurried her parents to the new classroom on the second floor…

Dressed in a black and white polka dotted dress, red and white striped knee socks, black Mary Janes and an oversized Japanese backpack, she looked adorable and au courant entering her classroom for the very first time. Big-eyed and excited, she explored the new classroom, found her cubby and located her assigned seat at a small table, where there was a name tag, that said her name. She immediately put it on her polka-dotted chest.

“What do I do now?” she said aloud.

And then it was time for the parents to go. Smartmom thought to stop in and see one or two of Teen Spirit’s old teachers and tell them that they’d dropped him off at college last week but she resisted the temptation. Everyone was so busy with the new. It wasn’t time to look back. Forward motion, forward…

A few months ago, Dumb Editor told Smartmom that he wanted a younger columnist with younger offspring for The Brooklyn Paper’s award-nominated parenting column. Smartmom felt like she was being stabbed.

“You’re killing Smartmom?” she asked.

“Don’t say it like that,” he replied, and blathered on about demographics, advertising, parents and that damn couch that Smartmom spent 12 columns on last year year.

Smartmom went through a variety of feelings about Dumb Editor’s decision to dump her.

First she was in denial. She reckoned it would take months, even years, for Dumb Editor to find a suitable replacement. She didn’t tell anyone because she really didn’t think it was going to happen. Obviously, Dumb Editor would see the light of day and change his mind.

Soon after, Smartmom got angry. Really angry. In her mind Dumb Editor became Mean Editor. She couldn’t think about him without sneering. She composed angry letters in her mind attacking him for his shortsightedness. How could he kill poor innocent Smartmom? What a jerk!

Smartmom decided that Mean Editor was ageist, that he was discriminating against Smartmom for being a 51-year-old mom with a pair of teenagers, one college-bound this summer. What was so wrong with writing about a 13-year-old and a 19-year-old? Don’t teens need to be parented, too? Were babies the only kind of children worth writing about? Surely there was already enough on Park Slope Parents and Babble about breastfeeding and Bugaboos.

Then the self-hatred kicked in. Dumb Editor’s “rejection” really did a number on Smartmom’s self-esteem. For a short period of time, she had writer’s block and even trouble coming up with ideas for new columns. She started to doubt herself as a writer. Was she really irrelevant and over the hill? Was she really out of tune with her Brooklyn readership?

As time passed, Smartmom slowly began to accept the inevitable. She even began to feel better. The support of her friends and family was significant in this regard.

Many of her friends and neighbors were shocked that Smartmom was being “killed off.” They were incredulous that Mean Editor would do such a thing and that they wouldn’t be reading about the trials and tribulations of her life while sipping coffee at Connecticut Muffin.

Smartmom was soothed by their kind words and she began to adjust. She decided that she would leave the Brooklyn stage with grace and dignity. It wouldn’t do to curse out Mean Editor and leave The Brooklyn Paper by emergency slide like that Jet Blue flight attendant.

Plus, didn’t Dumb Editor offer her an entirely new neighborhood column? Yes, somewhere in the mists of her bitterness, she remembers him mentioning that, as he grabbed the last bite of the brownie they were supposedly sharing.

The Oh So Feisty One was greatly relieved to hear about the imminent demise of Smartmom. It’s no secret that she absolutely hated being the subject of a column in a widely circulated, popular newspaper read by her friends and the parents of her friends. An intensely private person, she was happy to hear that her life would no longer be the subject of public conversation.

However, when she told Teen Spirit that Dumb Editor thought the column should end when he left for college, he was aghast.

“But what about OSFO? You can still write about her,” he said.

This surprised Smartmom. She knew that Teen Spirit found the articles about himself irritating and that he’d stopped reading the column ages ago. Still, he thought it unfair that OSFO would now be out of the limelight that she herself hated.

Hepcat wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Smartmom’s termination. He rather liked being stopped on the street every now and again.

“Are you Hepcat?” people would say.

“I am the person on whom Hepcat is loosely based,” he would tell them.

The columns were also an easy way to check in with Smartmom about what she was thinking and feeling — a whole lot easier than actually having a conversation with Smartmom because sometimes those talks would result in arguments or long whining sessions. Now, he would have to talk to Smartmom and that might be a tad inconvenient.

Strangely, Smartmom not only accepted the idea that the column was coming to an end, but she even began to like the idea. It would certainly make things easier between her and OSFO, who would no longer have to fear that Smartmom would write about something she didn’t want other people to know about.

Smartmom also realized it was time to move on to new things. She’d been writing the column for almost six years, and she’d probably said all she needed to say about being a smart mom in Brooklyn.

Still with just three columns to go, Smartmom is feeling a tad nostalgic. She remembers the day six years ago when Mean Editor wined and dined her at the Tea Lounge, trying to lure her to his newspaper. Smartmom remembers that he even bought her a cup of coffee (not a latte, mind you) and told her how much he liked her writing.

Well, we know how that story ends — and what a double whammy for Smartmom. Teen Spirit is going off to college, and Smartmom is being axed from The Brooklyn Paper.

What’s a smart mom to do?

Last week Crazy Lady was greedily eyeing Teen Spirit’s bedroom. She even went in there a few times taking measurements and trying out paint chips. In just over a month, Teen Spirit will be leaving for college in the Midwest and, she reckoned, he won’t be needing his room anymore.

Smartmom kept telling Crazy Lady to stay out of there, to mind her own business, to leave well enough alone.

But Crazy Lady doesn’t listen. Besides, she thinks when Teen Spirit leaves they should turn his room into something useful.

“It could be a meditation room,” Crazy Lady told Smartmom. “You could paint the walls white and get the floors redone.”

Actually, Smartmom liked the idea of a meditation room. An oasis of serenity and mindfulness in her own home would be such a luxury…

But then she snapped out of her reverie.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Smartmom told Crazy Lady. “Teen Spirit will always have a bedroom in this apartment.”

“But he barely uses it as it is,” Crazy Lady told Smartmom. “You could put a shrine over here with a Buddha statue and an incense holder. Your meditation pillow could go here…,” Crazy Lady told Smartmom.

“That’s out of the question,” Smartmom screamed. “He’s just going to college. He’ll be coming home for Thanksgiving, Christmas and summer vacation!”

Crazy Lady rolled her eyes.

“He can sleep in a sofa bed when he comes home,” she told Smartmom. “Then you could turn his room into an entertainment center. Get a video projector, a screen and you’d be set to watch all the Coen Brothers, Almodovar and Woody Allen movies you want. You could even get a recliner.”

The idea of a screening room was pretty tempting. Smartmom could almost see herself melting into a down-filled couch indulging her cinematic interests.

But then she snapped out of that reverie, too.

“A recliner. You’ve really lost it, Crazy Lady,” Smartmom screamed out.

“All right. You could turn his room into your office. Put a writing desk against this wall and a bookcase here. It could be very writerly. A real study…,” Crazy Lady told Smartmom.

Truth be told, that didn’t sound so crazy. Smartmom thought of all the money she spends on an office outside of the apartment. If she took over Teen Spirit’s bedroom she could actually work at home, save money.

But then she snapped out of even that reverie, too.

“You’re nuts, Crazy Lady,” Smartmom spewed out. “You know I can’t work at home. It’s too distracting. I do all my best writing at the office. If I tried to work at home, I’d end up washing dishes, filing papers, cleaning the toilet, anything but writing.”

“OK, OK. You could turn his room into a gym. Get mats, weights, even a Stairmaster and a stationary bicycle. Think of what good shape you’ll be in…”

Smartmom liked the idea of having an at-home gym. She loved the idea of being in good shape. She belongs to a local health club, but Buddha knows she’s not very disciplined about making time to get over there. Maybe a gym in her apartment…

Smartmom snapped out of her reverie.

“You really are crazy, Crazy Lady,” Smartmom yelled out. “I like all those sweaty bodies at the gym; all the collective energy and endorphins.”

That seemed to shut her up Crazy Lady for a while. Smartmom sat on Teen Spirit’s bed. She fingered his old down comforter and orange bedspread. She patted his super soft pillows and hugged Pokey, the cuddly stuffed bear he’s had since he was 1. She looked up at all of his guitars hanging on the wall and “The Old Man and the Sea,” “The Stranger,” “The Phantom Tollbooth,” the Harry Potter books and the Series of Unfortunate Events on his bookcase. Finally, her eyes settled on the teenage poetry and graffiti, the comics and drawings on his walls.

Smartmom found herself feeling immeasurably sad. Teen Spirit had lived in this room since he was 3 years old. In a few weeks, he’d be off to college. Smartmom wasn’t sure she was ready to let him go. And she certainly wasn’t ready to turn his room into something new.

“Hey, I’ve got another great idea,” Crazy Lady burst in. “You could turn this into a guest room. You always said that you wished you had somewhere to comfortably put guests…”

Smartmom took one of Teen Spirit’s wingtip shoes and threw it at Crazy Lady.

“Get out of here and don’t come back. I need this to be Teen Spirit’s room for a very long time. He’s only going to college…”

“I know. He’ll be coming home on vacations.” Crazy Lady sighed. She sat down next to Smartmom and put her arm around her shoulder. Smartmom eyed her suspiciously.

“What are you doing, Crazy Lady?” Smartmom asked her. “You’re being so, well, nice.”

“I may be crazy, but I can be empathic, too, you know.”

“I guess,” Smartmom said a little nervously. “I guess.”

At the end of July, the Oh So Feisty One and Smartmom will head to Block Island with OSFO’s friend Luvbud for a couple of weeks of surf, sun, and bike riding.

But until then, OSFO doesn’t have much planned. And that’s just the way OSFO wants it. She made it abundantly clear that she wanted a few weeks of down time before going away. Besides, Smartmom thinks it’s perfectly fine for kids to have some good old-fashioned unstructured time in the summer.

Generally.

Well, the first week of summer vacation is always a novelty. The release from school and its responsibilities is a real thrill for the whole family.

During the first week, OSFO had friends over. She cleaned her bedroom and threw out old books and clothing that she doesn’t need anymore.

That seemed fairly productive.

But week two of summer vacation was less so. Most of OSFO’s friends were away, and she spent the week sleeping late and laying around. And when she wasn’t sleeping, she had her face in Facebook or was watching movies and TV shows on her laptop.

Of course, the weather was very hot and you can’t blame OSFO for wanting to stay inside in the air conditioning. Still …

One afternoon, Smartmom was minding her own business when Crazy Lady stopped by.

“Why isn’t your daughter doing anything this summer?” she asked Smartmom.

Smartmom knew it was none of Crazy Lady’s business and she tried to ignore this unpleasant woman, who seems to drop by at the oddest moments. But that’s not easy.

“Why doesn’t she take teen pilates or a dance class at Dancewave?”

Smartmom didn’t know what to say. Sure, she’d be happy if OSFO wanted to take a summer class, but why was this any of Crazy Lady’s business?

“How about a job. Diaper Diva needs someone to take Ducky to her camp at the Botanic Gardens?” Crazy Lady said to Smartmom.

Smartmom knew that Crazy Lady had a point. The summer is a great time to try something new like a class or a part-time job. It can be a real growth experience.

Without stopping to catch her breath, Crazy Lady regaled Smartmom with tales of what some of the other children in the neighborhood were up to.

“My friend’s daughter is riding horses in Prospect Park and working at the Kensington Stables,” Crazy Lady told Smartmom.

“Another kid is taking sailing lessons at Battery Park City, and I know a ton of kids doing theater camp,” Crazy Lady yelled at Smartmom.

Smartmom found herself feeling lousy. Maybe she should have signed OSFO up for one of those interesting and educational activities.

She also found herself thinking back to her teen summers. When she was 14, Smartmom took pottery lessons. Truthfully, she was never able to center the clay, but she did make some nice coil pots.

Another year, she took sailing lessons in a Sunfish on Martha’s Vineyard. Another summer she was a counselor-in-training at a sleep-away camp in Maine. Still another summer, she worked at Broadway Smoothie, scooping ice cream and making milkshakes.

Crazy Lady was bringing up memories for Smartmom, but she was also making her feel like a slacker mom who doesn’t know how to fill up her daughter’s time.

She was also making her angry. What right did Crazy Lady have making her feel bad about her decision to let OSFO define three weeks of her summer vacation?

“Your daughter should be doing something other than lying around on the couch wit her computer …”

Smartmom had heard about enough. She stared Crazy Lady down.

“Look, would you just back off? My daughter is perfectly happy with her unstructured time,” Smartmom yelled at Crazy Lady.

“You’re just getting defensive. You know you’re a bad mom,” Crazy Lady taunted.

That was the last straw. Smartmom started pushing Crazy Lady out, but the broad put up a fight.

“You’re just feeling guilty because your daughter is wasting her time,” she spit out at Smartmom.

“Get out of here,” Smartmom screamed. “Get out of my apartment. Scram…”

That’s when OSFO got up off the couch and came into the kitchen.

“Why are you talking to yourself?” OSFO asked. “It was so loud I could barely hear my movie.”

Smartmom looked around. That’s when she realized that Crazy Lady had exited. She was glad that OSFO didn’t see her or hear any of her crazy talk. Smartmom wasn’t sure what to say.

“Oh. I was just singing along with the radio,” she told OSFO.

“But the radio isn’t even on,” OSFO told her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Hey, do you want to go out and get some ice cream?” Smartmom asked OSFO.

“How about Yogo Monster?” OSFO countered.

“Great idea,” Smartmom said relishing the idea of taking a long walk on an unstructured summer afternoon.

Eat your heart out, Crazy Lady.