Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Seriously, though–she brings the feels, right? And after loving Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus, as well as (mostly, because the jerk in it is hard to handle) its sequel, Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus, I was definitely excited to realize that she’d published a third book in the series–namely, The Beat I Drum. Except this time, it’s from Connor’s perspective (Aven’s friend with Tourette’s), and to be strictly accurate, it’s more of a companion novel to Momentous Events.

Connor, if you’ll remember, moved with his mom just as he, Aven, and Zion were ready to start high school. Beat begins right after that move, with Connor facing his first day in a new school and his mother pushing him to give his dad, the dad that left the two of them almost two years ago, another chance. He’s about the same level of enthusiastic for both of them, actually, which isn’t at all a good start. He meets a girl who also has Tourette’s, however, and she introduces him to her friends, so that school is turning out to be better than he’d feared. His music teacher is committed to helping him find the music inside himself and he has friends to sit with at lunch; unfortunately, he also has a bully, and his mom refuses to let him shut his apparently penitent dad out of his life. Worst of all, though, is his battle with his personal demons, which threatens everything he’s trying to build. How Connor gains the upper hand and learns the keys to managing his life makes for an emotionally wrenching coming-of-age story, full of tics and love and a decent helping of Queen. You will hurt and you will cheer, you will want to hug every kid coping with Tourette’s, and you will definitely hear We Will Rock You in your head at least once. Dusti Bowling has another winner with this one.

On the home front, my son’s last junior high concert is tonight, and he is going to desperately miss his band director. (Understandably–he’s a great guy.) I love hearing him play, but this concert is his school’s “symphony”–meaning the concert band and orchestra are performing together. The positive? We also get to hear Jazz band, in which my son gets to play the school’s bari sax. The negative? We also have to sit through cadet orchestra, and I struggle with beginning violins.

Good thing my son is worth it.

It hit 90 today, folks. UGH. And tomorrow’s supposed to be even hotter. Anybody want to move to Alaska with me?

In other news, happy yesterday-was-Mother’s-Day to all the mothers out there, both those with children and all those who mother children. I love my kiddos, and my oldest especially outdid herself yesterday. (Crepes in bed for breakfast, and she made the orange rolls for dinner as well!) My hubby wasn’t feeling his best, but the youngest gave a talk in Primary (as in, in front of other kids), and we played both of my new games. A good day overall.

I also finished reading Mary Amato’s The Naked Mole-Rat Letters aloud to my youngest, and I have somewhat mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, there was a lot of funny going on, as well as a couple of nice messages for the target audience to take away. On the other hand? Books with characters who just keep telling lies that will inevitably get found out drive me crazy.

The premise is a fun one–twelve-year-old Frankie’s widowed father comes home from a business trip in an unusually positive frame of mind, which she learns is due to his meeting and going on a date with a woman who works at the National Zoo. (I’ll give you one guess which animals she works with.) Frankie is appalled and takes it upon herself to email ‘Ratlady,’ only her initially (highly) hostile emails eventually take on more of a confiding quality. In the meantime, a disappointment at school coupled with the threat of change that the ratlady represents somehow turns her into a lying machine. Unfortunately for Frankie’s image, however, she is completely terrible at telling lies that make enough sense to work past the moment, and the whole situation snowballs impressively. The ending is satisfying, yes, but it was a little long in coming for my taste. If lying in books isn’t one of your pet peeves, you’ll probably enjoy this one; if it is, you’ll want to think twice before diving in.

Today was my last PTA meeting as president, folks, and I’m not sad about it. I AM sad about aging out of Fox Hills, though–it’s a lovely elementary school in every way (except for last summer’s “broken” air conditioning that we have district suspicions about). Between that meeting, however, and making muffins for that meeting in time for my AP testing daughter to eat some before school, and the dishes, and Costco, and giving blood, well–there’s a reason we’re calling these observations rather than reviews.

Item one: Rebecca Rose Mooradian’s Rose by the Sea: An Armenian Journey of Courage and Hope, which was a beautiful picture book based on the true story of the author’s ancestor and the Armenian Genocide. The illustrations and the language were both lovely, I have to say; my one critical observation is that, while it’s poetic and gentle, it isn’t actually informative enough. I can appreciate the difficulty of how much to share in a picture book for children, but I don’t think there’s enough context here for the true power of the story to make sense without some background information. As a companion to David Kherdian’s The Road from Home: A True Story of Courage, Survival, and Hope, however, it would be excellent.

Item two: Frozen Hi-Chew pops taste exactly like cold Hi-Chews. It’s uncanny. Even the texture is spot on.

There’s your two observations, folks–have a great weekend!

After staying home from church on Sunday and school Monday and yesterday, my youngest headed off today with cough medicine in her system. The crossed fingers, of course, are mine. Is she well enough? Is she going to infect half her class? Or, conversely, has most of her class already had it and she got it from one of them? Who knows. What I do know is that this is my one child who struggled to figure out blowing her nose AND is terrible at drinking anywhere close to enough, and if, after every cold, I waited to send her back to school until the gunk was gone, I’d have the truant officers after me. (Plus, it’s testing, and missing that is never ideal.) I am, therefore, once again alone in the house, which is why I can peacefully compose a book review at lunchtime.

When we were pondering Battle of the Books options (we’ve settled now, but before, when we were pondering) we wanted a local author, but Jennifer Nielsen has apparently been done recently. Tyler Whitesides was suggested as an alternative, but I wondered about other possible options and decided to google Utah authors, which is how Erin Stewart’s The Mysterious Magic of Lighthouse Lane popped onto my radar. It’s new–it came out in February–but it’s also already on Libby as an audiobook, and while Tyler Whitesides got picked for our upcoming BotB list (I was only halfway through Stewart’s book at the meeting), I’m hoping for Erin Stewart for the following year, because I very much enjoyed The Mysterious Magic of Lighthouse Lane. (That may have flirted with being a run-on sentence there, but I’m over it.)

Lighthouse Lane is the story of Lucy, who has always had big feelings, turbo tears, and ‘meltdowns’; after a spectacular one at the aquarium (in front of her entire 6th grade class, no less), her parents arrange for her to spend the summer with her grandfather on P.E.I.. (It’s an interesting choice, given the circumstances, but it makes for a lovely story. Also, sometimes parents are a little baffling.) She decides before getting there that she doesn’t want friends or emotional entanglements–it’ll be easier that way–and at first, her nigh-monosyllabic grandfather and his quiet house seem designed to support that decision. Her grandfather’s dog begins to break down her metaphorical barricade, however, and then a redhead named Poppy shows up with an insistent, non-negotiable friendship proposition. And when Lucy’s grandfather pulls out her grandmother’s old camera for her to use, a series of events is set in motion that suggests a name and a reason for Lucy’s feelings–and the notion that they may not be a liability after all.

Stewart’s book isn’t a perfect one, it’s true; the course of the plot feels a bit (more than a bit?) unlikely if you think about it too deeply. Her characters are strong and sympathetic, however, and settings don’t get much better than Prince Edward Island. Stories about kiddos who struggle with emotional differences are much more common than they used to be, but this is the first one I’ve read that explores the idea of being an empath, and that adds to the appeal. Boys aren’t going to be nearly as excited about this one as girls, it’s true, but still–I completely recommend it.

We’ll see if it shows up on a BotB list in the future.

1. Spent over $1100 online. On medical bills.
2. Cleaned up my kitchen counter and its surrounds, so yay for that!
3. Got rejected by the American Red Cross. This almost never happens to me, but yesterday was Fast Sunday, and so today my hemoglobin was just a touch too low–as in, it was 12.4 and you need 12.5 to donate. I made another appointment for Friday.
4. Read Greg Pizzoli’s Pizza!: A Slice of History to my kiddos. (My youngest about died when I got to the part about pizza toppings in other countries.) Maybe we should consider that for an informational picture book for Battle of the books?
5. Listened to my bookends cough their way through the day. Who knows if my youngest will be at school tomorrow?

That’s more of a sampling, of course, but I was productive, so that was nice. And you really should look into the Greg Pizzoli book. Who knew there are people in the world putting green peas, or shredded coconut, or curry powder/peanuts/bananas on pizza?

It’s not just me, right? We all have those things? For me, one of them is to try multiple egg salad recipes shortly after Easter, because hey! hardboiled eggs. Of the two I tried this year, I’m finally getting around to reviewing my favorite–Smitten Kitchen’s Egg Salad with Pickled Celery and Coarse Dijon. The star of the recipe, in my opinion, is clearly the pickled celery, because it’s genius. It’s still crunchy, but with a beautiful tang that makes your egg salad pop; it also doesn’t take too much planning ahead, because an hour in the fridge is sufficient. As for the coarse Dijon, I can’t even swear that what I used was coarse Dijon–I used the only whole grain/stoneground mustard I had. Ultimately, I doubt it mattered much; what mattered is that it was lovely, and 3 of my 4 kids enjoyed it as well. (The 4th is an inveterate celery hater, and my hubby DOES NOT eat hardboiled eggs.) The next time you’ve got hardboiled eggs to spare, give this one a try!

It’s hard to feel too guilty when this week feels so crazy, though. It’s our elementary school’s teacher appreciation week, my daughter’s dance concert was/is last night and tonight–etc., etc., etc. On the other hand, I did finish listening to Stuart Gibbs’ Spy School (the original version this time, since I already read the graphic novel for Battle of the Books). I was afraid I’d miss something if I went from graphic novel book one to regular book two, but now that I’ve finished the regular book, I’m not entirely sure I would have. Either way, however, it’s a fun premise, and while there aren’t exactly oceans of depth going on here, I’m hoping my more reluctant reader son will enjoy Gibbs’ story of a boy who’s sent to spy school to be a patsy, only to become more than the administration bargained for. If Gordan Korman and his ‘Swindle’ series met James Bond with just a touch of Harry Potter, they might have produced this book. Cross your fingers that my son will like it!

In the meantime, prom is this weekend, there’s a women’s church activity tonight, and our Saturdays keep being so busy that I’m perennially behind on wash. AND there’s a junior high boy tent sleepover at our house tomorrow night. Think I could sneak in a nap today?

I finished another Battle of the Books possibility on Friday, namely Daniel Miyares’ How to Say Goodbye in Cuban, and I was once again reminded that titles are hard. Because you see, I don’t think that title is a terrific representation of the book as a whole, and yet I have absolutely no idea what I would call it myself. Perhaps Miyares found that title personally evocative?

Anyway. Goodbye in Cuban is actually the story of Miyares’ father’s escape from Cuba as a boy, accompanied by his parents and siblings but without his beloved grandparents, who stayed behind. It isn’t the first book I’ve read this year that describes Castro’s Cuba, and I’m always struck by the awful mix of some good (wider educational opportunities are a standout) and much bad that accompanied his ‘revolution’. Carlos’ father owned a furniture making business before it was confiscated by the Cuban government, after which he went out fishing for nights on end before disappearing altogether for something like a year. Their family was consequently viewed with suspicion, and when Papi finally returned with a boat, they began their escape–which was a bit circuitous, but ended well. Miyares captures well the feeling of being partly in the dark, probably because his father, who waited until his son was an adult to tell him his story, was a boy at the time and was. Papi’s emotional transformation as a father seemed abrupt to me, but that could have been the contrast between living in fear and doubt and deciding what to do about it. Overall, it’s a thoroughly engrossing story.

In other news, my two younger girlies had their dance recital this weekend–it’s always lovely to see them dressed up and loving to dance–and on Sunday we met with my oldest daughter’s service mission advisors. (Did I mention that she’ll be serving as a service missionary for our church for 18 months? She’s completely excited to volunteer with special needs groups, as she wants to go into special ed, as well as use her Spanish at a volunteer medical clinic. Among other things.) We managed to play two games as a family yesterday afternoon without my youngest two children killing each other–an impressive feat for the sort of day my youngest was having–and I did dishes without having to make any part of dinner. I hope your weekends were lovely!

Yesterday, while in the car waiting for my 5th grader after school, I finished reading The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 1. It’s taken me longer than it should have because, well, life, but overall, I think it lives up to the hype. Emma is highly entertaining, her neighborhood enjoyably eccentric, and her life situation rife with possibility. While Beth Brower’s choice to introduce events in capital letters pages before she explains said events is a perfectly fair plot device, however, it does complicate how much of the premise one can share without spoilers. Let’s see…

Emma is a young woman in 1883 in anticipation of her 21st birthday, when she will come into possession of her inheritance. Upon her recent return to London, her cousin Archibald’s frustrating behavior intimates that all may not be smooth sailing–and that’s about what I can easily say without giving anything away. This first volume in a series that multiple people have recommended to me is short (just over a hundred pages) but alluring; I couldn’t possibly leave it there. (Although there may be quite the wait before the second book comes in at the library.)

To be fair, I do have a criticism or two beyond the font size, which my no-longer-young eyes did not appreciate, but they’re relatively minor. Emma’s voice as a convincing 19th-century young lady is occasionally uneven, and the expression (used only once, but still) ‘come hell or high water’ is jarringly American. My enjoyment of the book, however, was not significantly marred. If you haven’t given Emma M. Lion a try yet, well–what are you waiting for?

Whitney Gardner has been on my radar for years, as my older girls and I have read her other graphic novels (Fake Blood especially cracked me up); when I saw she’d published a new one last summer and it was called Free Piano (Not Haunted), I was kind of psyched for it. (On the cover, the “Not” is underlined twice, which I found even more entertaining.) And while it doesn’t have the same sort of specific, sly references to pop culture as Fake Blood does, it does add a fun twist to some well-known tropes. When Margot acquires a secondhand synthesizer, she’s thrilled at the idea of her dad teaching her to play it; her dad, however, is off to LA to pursue his music dreams, and so she’s left at home with her hardworking, rarely home mother. Margot’s feeling desperately alone when the ghost of an 80s pop diva who died young pops out of the synthesizer and starts asking her sometimes difficult questions about why Margot wants to be a musician–and for whom. Unfortunately, Vision isn’t the only ghost hanging out in the synthesizer…

Free Piano moves more quickly into its denouement than I was necessarily expecting; on the other hand, it’s a juvenile graphic novel with a few extra creepy panels, so I’m inclined to give it a pass. My favorite part as a parent was the theme of what (and who) is and isn’t important, especially Gardner’s negative portrayal of the times Margot is preoccupied with her phone and followers. Kids today need that message, and a graphic novel with an entertaining hook is a great way to get it across. I’m looking forward to my younger two girls reading it.

In the meantime, I prepped and distributed the first round of prizes for screen-free week today, and while I had a wretched night’s sleep, it’s been a pretty chill day overall. I’ll take it!