The Word according to the author of '13 Is the New 18'

I was only two pages into Beth Harpaz's new book when I started laughing uncontrollably.

See, this woman was writing about all the changes her son went through when he entered puberty. And one of them was the 13-year-old compulsion to buy Axe deodorant, the world's most horribly smelly product that makes a stockyard seem pleasant by comparison.

The reason I was laughing was that only the day before, my own son had acquired some Axe deodorant, requiring us all to roll down the windows of the car to keep from being gassed out by the smell. My eyes are still watering.

I knew then I would like the book, written by this New York City mom who writes a column on raising teenagers for Associated Press, and, sure enough, it's a support group to document the alarming changes your kids will go through as they enter middle school. It doesn't hurt that there are plenty of belly laughs along the way.

Even the title is funny, "13 Is the New 18: And other things my children taught me while I was having a nervous breakdown being their mother."

Q: Why did you start your book with an anecdote about Axe deodorant?

A: The Axe thing is huge. So many people have told me they live in nuclear clouds of Axe — their entire houses smell like an Axe factory. I called the Axe people, and they insist they market it to (grown) guys, but I never saw a 25-year-old wearing it.

This is part of the mystery of parents: We can never figure out how all kids know to do the same thing on the same day. Everyone should go to school today in little ballerina skirts with cutoff tights. How do they do that?

Q: What prompted you to write this book?

A: I went to a bar mitzvah, where everyone walks around saying, "Today, you are a man," and when I saw how the girls were hanging on my son, I thought, "Today he really is kind of a man," and it scared me. Nobody warns you.

Everything happens so suddenly. I read a lot of books when they were babies, so I was always prepared for the next step, like when babies get colicky or start throwing things on the floor, you don't blame yourself for that.

But there was no book saying I would get shook down by my son to buy $100 sneakers, or I would have to live in a cloud of Axe. When your son makes a scene at the mall or the teacher calls you, you think it's your fault. So I thought if I wrote the book, maybe I would spare someone else the agony of wondering, "What did I do wrong?"