Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

The kids didn’t have school on Monday, for starters, and while there was still piano and flag football practice and a school dance thing for my 14-year-old, it was also a day at home that saw me deciding to tackle all the spring/summer bins of girl clothes at once. (Except for what currently fits the teenagers.) I brought up anything at all likely to fit my 9-year-old this year, and I either put away or set aside to give away anything fleecy, one drawer-full of pants, and all of the long-sleeved shirts not specifically arranged into outfits. (Which is, of course, why this week’s projected highs have dropped from 80-ish to 60-ish. You’re welcome.) I also reorganized the still-too-big-for-my-9-year-old clothes into types–there’s now a bin of shorts, a bin of tops, a bin of pjs, and so on. Good times!

Tuesday saw me running around doing mom things until I hadn’t the concentration for a book review, and yesterday kind of did, too. This morning, however–after knitting with my friend from 9-10–I am determined to play a bit of catchup and review Katherine Applegate’s Wishtree, which I finished listening to earlier this week.

It was lovely.

Not that we should be surprised by this, of course, Katherine Applegate being routinely lovely. But Wishtree has the added novelty of being narrated by a tree, and it works even better than you might hope. Red (the tree) is inhabited by multiple animal families, and Applegate’s explanations of how the different species name themselves and their offspring is fabulous; the humans in the surrounding neighborhood, by contrast, may be in the minority as characters go, and yet it’s their actions that inform the book. Trees (and animals) aren’t supposed to talk to humans, you see–but how else can they share wisdom gained in centuries of living? Especially when the world (and the neighborhood) are in need of that exact kind of wisdom once again?

When such a short book makes you both laugh and cry, you’ve generally got a winner, and that’s absolutely the truth here. This almost-fable brings the both funny and the feels; don’t miss it.

To those of you singing Bon Jovi right now–yeah, I’m not sorry. Because we are! Last night’s dance dress rehearsal is fully behind us, and since my 17-year-old’s school dance performance was also last night (necessitating driving back and forth multiple times at a truly unfortunate time of day), we’re technically more than halfway. Hallelujah!

(Incidentally, watching my 17-year-old tango was a pleasure. Being present while she put stage makeup on her dance partner in the car beforehand was equal parts hilarious and terrifying–especially when she was brandishing the eyelash curler at him in a moving car (!).)

In the meantime, this morning being the calm before the storm, my second load of wash is in the washing machine, and I’m hoping to make devilled eggs after this post is done. And did I sit and finish a graphic novel this morning mainly so I would have an easy review to write on a day with more-stress-than-usual to look forward to?

Maybe? (By which I mean heck, yeah!)

Anyway. I did finish All Is Nat Lost this morning (in between laundry loads), and my 9-year-old especially is going to be thrilled at my diligence. (Or negligence. Depending on how we’re looking at it.) And it was cute. Having been on an overnight school trip or three myself–band trips, to be fair, and more than one night was involved–that included sightseeing in a big, historically rich city, Nat’s overnight school trip to Philadelphia invoked a decent amount of nostalgia for me. And while the book’s resolutions of friend disagreements and issues read a bit like role play supervised by a psychologist, I find I’m okay with that kind of modeling going on in a book that scores of pre-tween, tween, and teen girls are going to read. The ending is happily satisfying (no permanent harm done), and I’m pleased to be passing this one on to my girlies.

Now. Wish us luck for tonight’s recital, as well as the piano lesson, school decorating, and fitting in of exercise that needs to happen beforehand!

I had plans for yesterday, friends–I really did. And then, after getting all the kids off to school, the deplorable state of my refrigerator got to me, and I snapped. Instead of writing a blog post, going to Costco, or attacking laundry–all part of my plans–I ended up cleaning out the main part of my fridge, which included trimming the sad parts off of a large head of cauliflower and cutting it into florets.

Also emptying a noticeable quantity of containers.

By that time, it was late enough that instead of trying to do anything else big, I tidied in the kitchen and dining room until it was time to take my 14-year-old to an appointment; from there, we hit the pharmacy on the way home, I fit the elliptical in, and then it was all dinner and my son’s flag football game and getting kids where they needed to go. Today, however, I really do plan to go to Costco and attack laundry, and (since I finished an audiobook last night) I figured I’d fit in a belated blog post as well.

I’m starting to have mixed feelings about Gordon Korman, folks. On the one hand, I liked Ungifted so much that I chose it as one of my son’s Christmas books this past year; on the other hand, my feelings about Whatshisface–the one I finished listening to last night–are more complicated. The concept of a boy from Shakespeare’s time haunting a contemporary middle schooler’s phone is most certainly entertaining, and I’m all about anything that champions modern-day appreciation of Shakespeare. (Which Whatshisface does do, despite its convoluted approach to it.) On the other hand, I felt like Korman phoned in his plot logistics (so to speak–pun unintended!) during the leadup to the climax, and if you think too hard about Jolie, you start to get annoyed about her character inconsistencies. (I also felt the climax itself was a bit sudden and simplistic.) Ultimately, however, I have to admit that as an author, Korman does consistently draw you in and keep you entertained, which matters for his intended audience–it keeps them reading, and that is incredibly important. As for the adults in the lives* of that audience?

Maybe just don’t think too hard about what you’re reading.

*The singular/plural agreement in this sentence is a grammatical quagmire, so I’m choosing to pick a (probably incorrect) solution and call it good enough. I apologize for not caring more, but I’ve got a busy day ahead. You’ll live.

It was, on the whole, rather a relaxing weekend, and I’m desperately grateful–not only because we hadn’t had one in a while, but because this coming week is going to be a logistical nightmare. I’m free at the moment, however, and I’m therefore going to review a title from my backlog. Hallelujah!

You know it’s bad, though, when the book in question isn’t my current read-aloud with my 14-year-old, NOR my previous one. No, it’s the one before that, and I’m going to have to estimate the date of its finishing based on its successor’s start date. (And to think that–once upon a few decades ago–my elementary school self was sure estimating was a stupid thing to learn.) Needs must! In any case, I did enjoy Kat Greene Comes Clean, although I wasn’t necessarily blown away by it. (To be fair, I take a good bit of blowing, so to speak.) There are more and more books available about children dealing with a parent’s mental health issues, but not so many are about parents with OCD; given that I lean in that direction myself, I was especially interested in Kat Greene. Kat’s situation, however, didn’t feel as relatable to me as I wanted it to, and yet some of that is likely just me. It’s a good thing that the school psychologist is one of the forces that move Kat’s problems towards workable solutions; Olympia’s ‘free-spirited’ approach, however, would have been unlikely to encourage any of my classmates to open up. And Kat’s friend drama was–frustrating. I honestly don’t know enough about clinical OCD to know if the depiction of Kat’s mother was more or less realistic, although the parent in me wanted to slap her on several occasions, and I’m still amused at the Harriet the Spy part of the plot, because I didn’t like that book when I WAS the right age for it.

I guess I’m trying to say that I didn’t relate to the overall book as much as I thought I would, but it was an engaging and enjoyable read, and there’s some positive modeling for kids in similar circumstances. My daughter seemed to like it as well.

Bottom line? It’s worth reading–but maybe start with a library copy.

It would be so lovely to get one more book review off of my waiting list, wouldn’t it? On the other hand, my three younger children (especially the youngest) have been short of temper with each other all evening, and I don’t actually think I have a book review in me tonight. I DID, however, accomplish a goal this morning that I’ve been putting off for months, so huzzah for me!

In the meantime, I’ve tried a couple of recipes this week that I’m on the fence about, so I’m not feeling reviews for those, either. What if I just left it there and took the rest of my Friday off?

Yeah, I’m done being torn about it. Goodnight all!

Anyone familiar with Terri Libenson’s ‘Emmie & Friends’ novels knows there’s generally a twist, some being a bigger deal than others. After finishing Surprisingly Sarah on Monday morning, I’m not really sure which category it falls into; the twist is a big deal, I suppose, but it doesn’t really come at the end, and the entire book felt different as a result.

I also wasn’t as big of a fan of it.

On the other hand, the kind of twist it is was never going to appeal to me personally, especially this far removed from my own junior high experiences. Sarah–Emmie’s artistic friend–has a major crush on her BBF’s (Best Boy Friend, not to be confused with any kind of boyfriend) friend, and is trying to work up the courage to ask him to the school dance. Will she? Won’t she? Will it end well if she does?

I am SO GLAD I am no longer in junior high.

I’m honestly not sure I can say much more without some level of spoilage, so I guess you’ll have to read it yourself. And really, I don’t know that my kiddos will feel the same way I do about the twist, so you might really enjoy it. Who knows?

In the meantime, my son tied his flag football game tonight, I bought ridiculous amounts of cereal at Walmart today, and there will be muffins for tomorrow’s breakfast. Last night was kind of awful, but that’s because a child meltdown came at the worst possible time from a logistical standpoint, which happens. And we’re halfway through the week now, right?

Thank goodness.

Believe it or not–and frankly, I surprised myself–I finished another book today, and I almost went ahead and reviewed that, further ignoring my backlog; it’s after 7, however, so I decided instead to tackle the shortest book on my backlog and put off the one I just finished for a couple of days. (By the way, I only managed to finish it because I spent a happy hour reading last night, read more during one child’s therapy appointment, and then finished the last few pages after getting home. I managed to focus better than I often do, which is a blessing.)

As far as the weekend, my son won his flag football game, we prayed hard (and are still praying) for a friend in our neighborhood who’s in intensive care, I went to a friend’s karate birthday party, and all six of us cooperated in getting dinner ready on Sunday, which was lovely. And–with open windows–we managed to avoid turning on the AC! (The weather has turned again, so it’ll be back to heat again for a few days. Hallelujah!)

And now–the backlog. How long has it been since I finished Carole Boston Weatherford’s You Can Fly: The Tuskegee Airmen? No one knows. It went pretty quickly, however, being a verse novel–with a timeline, resources section, and list of further reading, no less–that comes in under a hundred pages. With illustrations! (Although I have to admit, while the author’s son’s illustrations are interesting, they’re less my cup of tea. It’s the text I was most into.)

If you haven’t heard of the Tuskegee Airmen, they’re yet another example of the WWII-era US government being forced to admit that not-white-males are fully capable of doing the same things that white males are capable of–when they are (grudgingly, of course) given a chance. In this case, the government’s need for pilots eventually resulted in a pilot training program at Tuskegee Institute, a historically black university in Alabama. Some of those pilots ended up flying combat missions in the European theater, where–spoiler alert!–they proved unequivocally that skin color has nothing to do with capability.

Proved it–AGAIN.

Given the brevity of Weatherford’s–or is it Boston Weatherford’s?–work, I think I’m going to have all of my children read it before it goes back to the library, because it’s a piece of history I want them to know about. And you know what?

You should read it, too.

Wednesday just wasn’t going to happen, folks. I wrote PTA checks in the morning and then drove two children to different Sandy locations at different times, grabbing library holds and lunch at McDonald’s in between. And then, what with grieving children, crazy schedules, and being sad myself, there was just not enough coherent thought to be had to attempt a blog post.

Today, though, I am DETERMINED to manage one, even though it’s late enough that my powers of concentration are questionable. (As in, it’s almost 7. I’m old and tired, okay?) Much of my determination comes from the fact that after this morning’s PTA meeting–and a hot date with a terrifying kitchen sink–I finished listening to Gennifer Choldenko’s Al Capone Throws Me a Curve, which I’m assuming is the last in her ‘Alcatraz’ series, and I really don’t want to get further behind on my book reviews. (It’s an italic-y kind of evening.)

I have a lot of emotions about this one.

On the one hand, I struggle with a well-intentioned character continually being put into impossible situations, and there was plenty of that to be had here. On the other hand, given Natalie’s autism and the time and place involved, those situations didn’t feel nearly as contrived as they might have. And while the climax of the story seemed incredibly farfetched to me, it was still satisfying in a way that made this book my favorite since the first one. There is learning and growth in all kinds of places, and more understanding and difficult-but-successful communication than ever before. (Possibly? It’s been a while since I’ve read, say, the second book…) Bottom line? If you’re into the series at all, don’t miss this one.

Piper, of course, still drives me absolutely crazy.

Today I was supposed to work on our PTA’s fundraiser paperwork, but none of my numbers matched, and it was apparent even before my hubby left for work that Peter–my favorite bunny, our smallest, shyest, most nervous, and more recently frail bunny–was not going to rally. At first I avoided his box while I worked on what paperwork I successfully could; when I’d finished much of it and taken a break for lunch, I checked on him and suspected that he was fading. I moved him onto the couch next to me and petted him while I read, listened to my audiobook, and played aimlessly on my phone, and he died 15 or so minutes before my older girlies got home from school.

It was a quiet, somber experience, sitting alone with our poor sick Peter while he passed, and as my children got home we snuggled–and some of us cried. It isn’t easy to lose a pet at any age.

Before he passed, though, I finished reading a new graphic novel I checked out for my raccoon-obsessed 9-year-old–The Racc Pack, by Stephanie Cooke (with art by Whitney Gardner). It was more thoroughly entertaining than I’d expected, if more action than character drama: hungry raccoon brothers, a nefarious business owner who refuses to donate his edible castoffs and guards them against any and all interested parties, and a mysterious housecat with a suspicious agenda. I don’t know that my 14-year-old will be as interested–she prefers animals to be animals, not talking, clothes-wearing protagonists–but I’m anticipating much excitement from my third grader.

And today, that’s not a bad thing.

And that includes if you’ve been cheering up all the kiddos and need something fun yourself, fellow parents. Tonight I accidentally broke the heart of my youngest by telling her I was ready to tuck her in without remembering that she hadn’t yet given her birthday present to Daddy–and while I IMMEDIATELY assured her that I’d forgotten and of COURSE she could give him her present first, the tears were slow to stop. My son was upset that I told him to get off his kindle, even though it was after 8:30 and he knows I don’t want him on it after 8–he being the child who is most likely to be upset when I’m upset with him, even when I’m upset because he’s doing something he knows I’ve told him not to do. (Wouldn’t it be easier to just NOT do the thing you’ve been told not to do? Or be apologetic about it?) And my 14-year-old was super excited about the treat she made Daddy for his birthday, and when he was casual in his reaction, she was convinced he didn’t like it and we should throw the rest away. Oh, the drama! Don’t you wish you lived at my house? (And since I wrote this paragraph, my oldest came to me in tears to tell me that she forgot to eat lunch even after I’d reminded her twice. Because of course, after watching “The Return of the King” with friends and getting home after midnight last night, her emotions are on the volatile side.)

Luckily, however, I did finish a feel-good graphic novel this morning–Jennifer L. and Matthew Holm’s Sunny Makes Her Case (the 5th in their “Sunny” series). In it, Sunny’s friend Deb makes the middle school cheer team, but Sunny’s somewhat adrift, not being overly athletic. When her friend Arun says he wants to start a debate club, though, she ends up finding a thing of her own that she hadn’t expected to. The story is based in part on Jennifer Holm’s own debate experiences growing up, and that just added to the book’s appeal, which is already considerable. The Holm siblings are a joy to read, folks. Don’t miss this one!