Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I spent all day Friday thinking we were having company for our St. Patrick’s Day dinner–and then, once we’d cleaned up the table and worked on the dining room overall, I discovered that they couldn’t come after all. At least we got a cleaner dining room out of it? but I would have spent much of the day in the kitchen anyway. We had our usual Saturday breakfast on Friday morning, because on Saturday morning we had a family-party-style bridal shower to go to, and then there was corned beef to go into the crockpot, dishes to be done, a green jello cake to make (with green apple jello, because I don’t prefer lime), Irish colcannon to make, and green beans to add at the last minute. Between that, a trip to Walmart, and piano lessons, I was pretty nearly beat by the end of the day…which might explain why I failed to notice that my oldest was still up after 10:30. I hurried her off to bed, but she apparently forgot to take her pills, which came back to bite her on Saturday night.

To be fair, Saturday was a big day anyway–the party/shower was crowded and loud, my hubby got after her on the drive home because she wasn’t paying attention while changing lanes, and then she and her brother had the first segment of family scripture time–but she had such a concerning meltdown at her friend’s house that he texted me about it. (She told us she was going to his house to cheer him up because HE’D had a bad week.) I was at the adult session of stake conference, so I was texting my hubby, who was home with the kids, and it was–stressful. Sunday was more relaxing, thankfully, but my focus was on family time and a bit of exercise, which is why you get a post today. Lucky you!

Anyway. Last Sunday night–as in, a week ago yesterday–I was reading aloud to my youngest and reached the crisis point in the book we’ve been reading FOREVER. Whereupon my crazy 8-year-old declared that we were stopping there, I said “WHAT???”, and even my hubby–he was working on a puzzle a few feet away–pointed out that HE was kind of curious about what happened next. I still don’t know why she wanted to stop–was she afraid of how it would turn out, or just getting wiggly?–but I overrode her, and so we finally finished Alison McGhee’s Pablo and Birdy I’ve been meaning to review it ever since, but life keeps happening; on the other hand, it’s due and not renewable tomorrow, so here we are.

Part of me wants to start my review by saying that the first two-thirds or so of the book was slow. The fairer part of me, however, acknowledges that my 8-year-old is surprisingly particular about when and how often she’s in the mood to be read aloud to, and you really can’t accurately judge the pacing of a book when your reading sessions are so short and spread out. What I can say is that Pablo, who was rescued from the ocean as a baby, is reaching his double digit birthday and wants desperately to know more about his background. And Birdy, the parrot who was found with him when he was rescued and has been with him ever since, is starting to act strangely. Families who have been touched by adoption will likely empathize with Pablo’s frustration, while animal lovers will fall in love with Birdy. I wouldn’t necessarily label myself as either, and yet I was fighting tears by the last 20 pages. The ending is bittersweet but hopeful, and while this book took my daughter and me a maddeningly long time to get through, it’s going to stay with me for a while. If you read it, let me know what YOU think!*

*Okay, that felt like an abrupt ending, but I didn’t know where else to go that wouldn’t land me in spoiler territory. AND I’m tired. Sorry!