Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Right? Because it’s been almost a week. (Although to be fair, April is turning out to be a busy month.) Tuesday afternoon was all about the dentist and dance; Wednesday morning I took the car in to get the dent from my oldest’s run-in with a Lexus looked at and then spent the middle of the day at Britt’s, helping with party prep; Thursday I worked on cleaning up my desk area and then had lunch with my hubby (and two of his work friends, because it was the junior high’s Cafe Rio fundraiser); Friday I knitted, made egg salad (there’s been a lot of that going around), took kids to piano, and took my oldest shopping for prom shoes; and Saturday I took my oldest to the school for a mock AP test at 7:20, took my 13-year-old to Britt’s daughter’s birthday party and stayed to help, and then went home to do Saturday things. Yesterday was a lovely Sunday, really; my hubby was sore and tired and struggled to get going, but he made it to be sustained, stayed to be my audio/visual man during my Sunday school lesson, and then got set apart after church. AND participated in the setting apart of our second girlie! (If you’re wondering, being sustained and set apart is simply part of getting a temporary volunteer assignment in our church.) Our afternoon was kind of the perfect family time–an Easter egg hunt in which the kids hid for the parents and then the parents hid for the kids, a break in which I headed over to get knitting help, a family game of Bottle Bash, and then collaboration over dinner and a couple of episodes of “Ghostwriter.”

I’m still really grateful for how nice of a Sunday afternoon that was.

In other news, I finally finished listening to Remy Lai’s Pie in the Sky this week. I honestly can’t remember why I ended up pausing it to listen to other things, but I did and just finally got back to it. (I also just got back to this post, which I started yesterday and then got distracted from. Sigh.) You know the kind of book that you find solidly good–and moving–but that you know you’d get more out of if you shared more experiences with the narrator? Totally Pie in the Sky for me. Jingwen’s difficulties with making friends in a new school when he’s barely able to communicate in a new language tugged at my heartstrings, and his grief over his father’s death was palpable. I’m not a fancy baker myself, but it was still easy to get pulled into Jingwen’s determination to bake the fancy cakes his Papa intended to sell someday, once they all moved to Australia and he opened a new bakery; I could also feel his desolation and bewilderment at having to make the move without his father. What I lack experience with is being the oldest–and being a brother. The brother thing might not matter so much–I’m a sister with a sister, after all–but I’m the youngest, not the oldest, and Pie in the Sky is so clearly Jingwen’s story. It was just, well, slightly disconnecting to recognize my likeness to Yanghao (the younger brother) while still experiencing the book through Jingwen’s eyes.

On the other hand, it was still good, and a slightly different expression of the immigrant experience than I’m used to. The illustrations (which include occasional comic panels) integrate nicely as part of the story, and yet the audiobook deals with those illustrations surprisingly well (I listened but flipped through the physical copy afterward to experience the art). This is a good book in general, but if you have a son with younger siblings who is struggling with a move or the loss of a father figure, I’d say it’s a must read.

It was a big weekend, people. On Thursday the 6th I had a Field Day Committee meeting for PTA, went to Costco, picked up and dropped off kids, and then went to the elementary school art show with my family, (except that I had to leave that early so I could go to my Stake Women’s Conference committee meeting). My treasurer’s report happened AFTER I got home for the night, because Friday morning was our regular PTA meeting (and my third meeting in 24 hours). I went straight from there to donate blood and then came straight back to the school to write a big check for our Little Caesar’s pizza cards (we sold them for our fundraiser), went home, ate lunch, picked up kids, went to piano, picked up the last kid, and went to dye eggs. By the time we got home it was scramble scramble to feed people and pack them off to bed, after which Easter things needed to happen.

On Saturday morning we had our chocolate muffins and then woke the 16-year-old up at 9 so we could do Easter baskets; after that it was a hodgepodge of family scripture time, chores, lunch, more chores, my hubby’s birthday dinner, and then scrambling to leave for a Grizzlies (hockey) game at which our high school’s choir sang the national anthem. (And then reading Easter scriptures in the parking lot because we got there in plenty of time.) That was totally fun, except that it was longer than I realized to begin with and then there was a delay because some of the glass around the rink cracked, so we ended up leaving early–which was fine with everyone but my son, who wanted to stay and did NOT appreciate being outvoted.

Easter Sunday started early, since my oldest sang in the choir and left early for practice and my hubby and I said the prayers in sacrament meeting and so needed to be on time for sure; after church we made birthday treats for my hubby, prepped a salad, and then headed up to Clearfield. Easter dinner was more like lunch, which worked out better than I expected because I could feed the littles rolls and ham and let them pick at the leftover salad in the car on the way home. I thought we’d done well at bedtime, too, until I got a text from my daughter’s friend, checked on her, and realized just how depressed she was feeling–and then was too worried myself to settle to much else for the rest of the night. Yesterday was a day of do, chill, do, and chill, but at least I did two towel washes, ran the dishwasher twice, took my son to his appointment, ran an errand with my oldest, and fed people real food. Which brings us to this morning!

Today is actually going to be another day of tasks until after school, which will be a blur of the dentist and dance. One of those tasks, however, is to review Sophie Escabasse’s Witches of Brooklyn, which I started in December, put down when I decided against it as a Christmas gift, and just recently picked up again. Luckily, it was totally cute, so this review isn’t a hardship to write; the only reason I didn’t gift it to my youngest is that Effie does some adult-sassing at the beginning, when she’s grieving her mother and left to live with two aunts she doesn’t know. Understandable? Completely. It’s just that my youngest doesn’t need any ideas/help/prompts in the sass department, you know? What’s nice is that the sassing turns into a teasing relationship with one of the aunts that reminds me of how my dad and I used to be. Effie settles in quickly–because hey, it’s a kids’ graphic novel–and ends up quite thoroughly involved in the magic she didn’t know ran in her family. Her friends are fun, the crisis-to-be-dealt-with is both original and entertaining, and all comes right in the end. Mid-elementary to junior high and beyond should enjoy this one!

In the meantime, please keep my oldest in your prayers. Life is hard right now.

In the interest of full disclosure, I only listened to The Art of Hearing Heartbeats for a book group; it isn’t actually my thing. And I might be coming to this review a bit cranky, since I woke up at four prepared to roll over and go back to sleep and then spilled my water, which propelled me into actual wakefulness. (It’s now 5:30 and I’m just going to be tired today.) Even so–meh.

I like fairy tales–I really do. I just prefer a fairy tale to BE a fairy tale, and not a book that declaims “I am deep!” loudly into my ear. Even without the problematic narration, Hearing Heartbeats was just too “I’m sharing deep, mystical truths from the Far East with the unaware American” for me–and yet, the problematic narration is hard to ignore. U Ba is stereotypically poor-but-perfectly-serene-and-wise, and the contrived “I often go days barely speaking so I’m weary and must stop now” first pause in his (incredibly long) narrative is belied by the length of subsequent narrative sessions. (Also, why do male authors think it’s a good idea to describe a parent having sex to his or her child in dialogue? I’m looking at you, too, Robert Waller.)

I can pinpoint when Sendker started to lose me; U Ba is describing how Mi Mi manages to be not only graceful, but clean and neat with unsoiled clothing and uncalloused hands even though she lives in a poor mountain village and has to crawl on her hands and knees daily. His American listener reacts with incredulity–that her father would leave his family for a cripple. Seriously? THAT’S what you can’t accept? By the time Mi Mi starts rolling cheroots (with astonishing speed and skill, no less) that have a special taste because she is so beautiful and full of love…yeah, not so much.

It isn’t just Mi Mi herself that is so special and beautiful, however.* Her love for Tin Win–and his for her–is special and beautiful and magically trusting and true in spite of anything and everything that happens. (On the flip side, the characters that we are meant to dislike are absurdly devoid of likable qualities.) That, of course, is why it’s fairy tale love–it isn’t at all realistic. The problem is that Sendker instead turns it into an ideal he implies is attainable through–what? Enlightenment? Faith? Who knows.

This is turning into a bit more of a rant than I’d intended, and I didn’t hate the book. I just found it, well–cheesy. (I revert to overusing double dashes when I’m tired–did you notice?) One Goodreads reviewer noted that people who like Paulo Coelho will probably like The Art of Hearing Heartbeats, while people who don’t, won’t. Honestly, that’s probably as accurate as anything I can think of. You can take it–or not take it–from there.

*Mrs. Didonato’s voice in my head is not pleased that I didn’t tuck in that ‘however’, but I preferred the way it sounded at the end of that particular sentence. It’s still, however, hard to defy that voice.

Not for ME, you understand. But one of the reasons I didn’t manage to post before now is that the kids and I headed up to Logan last Friday to hang with my great nephew while my niece and her hubby went to the hospital so she could get induced. (She was only at 36 weeks, but her amniotic fluid was low.) It was snowing and visibility got a little sketchy, but we’d prayed for the roads to be fine, and the roads were fine, and we were grateful. We packed a lot in–the Lazy One outlet, the Olive Garden, and Gossner Dairy–before my sister came to take over and we headed back to Clearfield for dinner and then home. (It was a longer drive than usual because Sardine Canyon was closed on the way up, and I was too afraid of people getting carsick to face it on the way back.)

Saturday and Sunday were taken up with General Conference, tasks, and family, and so you have me today! And while I DID finish an audiobook this morning, that’s not the review you get, because my 13-year-old and I finished reading Merci Suarez Changes Gears (please pretend there’s an accent over that first “a”!) last Sunday–as in, a week ago yesterday. And if I review it today, it can go back to the library tomorrow, which means it will be out of my house, and that’s always a good thing.

The simplest thing to say about Merci Suarez, of course, is that you should just go read it yourself, because it was excellent; that, however, would be a copout. Merci is smart, hardworking, and NOT one of those sixth graders who race frantically into adolescence and all of the changes it brings. She loves soccer and wishes boy-girl relations at school weren’t all weird now, but she has bigger problems; her beloved grandfather is starting to act strangely and forget things, her relationship with her older brother is up and down, and her twin cousins (who live next door) drive her crazy. At school, the queen bee of her class is making her life difficult and friend groups are shifting, which is MORE complicated because she’s a scholarship student there; her family isn’t rich like most of her classmates’ families. How she deals with what life brings her is at the heart of Meg Medina’s Newbery Medal-winning novel, and isn’t that something we all need practice with?

Seriously, though. You should read it. My girlie and I are definitely planning on reading the sequel together–and probably the sequel’s sequel. We’ll keep you posted!

War Games by Audrey and Akila Couloumbis is my second experience this year with a fiction writer writing a nonfiction family story, and both times the reading was a bit of a struggle for me. To be fair, I’ve never preferred novelized nonfiction, but it also feels like the middle grade fiction writers in question seem a bit stilted when writing something true. I guess it could be just me, but…

Anyway.

War Games is technically co-written by a Newbery Honor winner and her husband, whose story it is; it takes place at the beginning of the Nazi occupation of Greece during WWII. Petros–the character based on Akila Couloumbis–is struggling with typical frustrations, such as wanting his big brother not to treat him like a baby, as well as wartime difficulties, such as destroying or burying everything in their house that would give away the secret that he and his siblings were born in America. When his family learns that a German commander will be coming to board with them, complications abound, especially since returning members of the Greek army keep showing up at their farm. I honestly wonder if I’d have been more captivated by this story were I a boy who related to the things Petros, his cousins, his friends, and his brother do; as it was, it was an interesting story but slow going. I think, though, that if the premise interests you, you should try it yourself rather than take my word for it. If you do, tell me what you think!

Okay, I haven’t been doing individual reviews for every Babysitters Club or Baby-Sitters Little Sister graphic novel, but Karen’s Birthday: A Graphic Novel tugged at my heartstrings. All Karen really wants for her 7th birthday is her family all together, but her divorced parents (both of them remarried) misunderstand what she’s asking for. I hurt for Karen in this one–and wanted to shake her parents in a “has it not occurred to you to wonder if THIS might be the problem?” kind of way–but the ending was both realistic and positive. Elementary schoolers straddling two families should definitely read this one.

Seriously, though. Even the kiddos slept in this morning–or read before coming in. Sleeping past 7:30 is lovely! AND it means more energy for things like reviews, which is why you’re getting my thoughts on Eoin Colfer’s (yes, the Artemis Fowl guy) The Dog Who Lost His Bark this morning.

I should maybe start with the disclaimer that I don’t actually LIKE dogs. I’m a cat person now and forever–and a bunny person, I guess, because we have three–and I spent my childhood more or less HATING dogs. On the other hand, Colfer’s novel is about a puppy, and baby animals are generally cute; most importantly, my kiddos are indiscriminate animal fans. I opted, then, to read The Dog Who Lost His Bark aloud to my 8-year-old.

It was actually a surprisingly short read-aloud. P.J. Lynch’s tearjerker illustrations take up a good bit of space, and it’s not a terribly long book anyway. As a parent, I saw the truth about Patrick’s family situation almost immediately; when it finally came out near the end of the novel, my 8-year-old yelled “I knew it,” so it’s probably not hard for anyone to see it coming. That part rang true for me. Unfortunately, Patrick’s winning over of Oz, a puppy who’d been abused and abandoned, felt less true. The music angle didn’t seem enough to explain how Patrick won Oz’s trust, and the shortness of the novel made the process seem very brief indeed. I think I was hoping for that to be the focus of the story–a hope the title supports, I might add–but instead, Patrick’s family situation is really the main event. Dog lovers and kids facing family upheaval should check this one out, but it’s less of an “any age will love this book” kind of experience.

So–on the 21st I managed dinner in the crockpot (which involved an early trip to Ream’s in my pjs) and exercising and a quick shower before going to the temple and then walking to pick up my kiddos; my 13-year-old’s band concert was at 7 that evening, but my oldest had dance until 6:15, call time was 6:30, and we had to pick up a friend, so it was hectic. Wednesday morning I took my littles to school, dropped the 13-year-old at the orthodontist, dropped my hubby at Target to meet his ride to the airport (work trip), picked the 13-year-old UP at the orthodontist, dropped her at school, and finally made it home. I had a meeting at 7 Wednesday night, so I had to drop my littles at a friend’s house before dropping my big girls at YW and heading to my meeting; thankfully it ended shortly after 8, so I got the littles in bed as quickly as I could. Thursday was early day and there were difficulties with my oldest, and then that oldest got her wisdom teeth out Friday morning. The 13-year-old got woozy and eventually passed out at the sight of her sister and the leftover blood in her mouth, so I had to get my neighbor to babysit the teenagers while my son and I picked up prescriptions, frozen fruit without seeds, and a birthday present for the party he was invited to that night (from 7-9!). We had to hurry then to be ready for piano lessons, but we managed…my hubby got home around 8:30, I retrieved the boy, and we all made it to bed eventually.

Saturday morning we had to get up and clean the church at 8; when we were done I switched laundry and then headed to a Relief Society breakfast/service project that started at 9. By the time I was home it was a try-to-do-Saturday-things-in-half-the-time sort of day, and we ended up having Family Scripture Time after dinner. Yesterday was Fast Sunday, my hubby got called to team teach youth Sunday School with me, and a RI friend came for dinner–which brings us to this morning. My hubby and I went to apply for passports before he left for work–we grabbed crickets for Palmer on the way home–and then I took the three younger kids to Costco, where we priced items for Stake Women’s Conference as well as shopped, and then they watched a movie while I took my oldest to her feedback appointment (the follow up to her psychological testing).

Yeah, it’s been a week. That being the case, instead of reviewing one of the two books that I’ve actually finished in the last week, I’m giving a shoutout to Caroline Carlson’s The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates trilogy. (Yes, I know that link goes specifically to the first book–it seemed the sensible thing.) I’m not marking them as read on Goodreads–I listened to them at double speed, sometimes in the shower, which means I definitely missed some details here and there–but they were so much fun to listen to that I wanted to blog about them anyway. Picture a mashup of Avi’s The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ movies, and a light-hearted British girl-away-at-school-corresponds-with-friend story, and you’ll get The Very Nearly Honorable League…; as long as you don’t think too hard about pirates and the incredibleness of the whole premise, it’s a rollicking good time. (WITH the friendship and nice-underdogs-against-tyranny themes of the Harry Potter books.) If you and the readers in your household love adventures, pirates, or not-high fantasy, don’t miss Carlson’s trilogy!

Because really, I’ve got to get at least one more review done or I’m going to go nuts. And this one shouldn’t take long, because I felt sort of meh about the book–although that may be mostly that I’m a 43-year-old English major. Elementary school-aged graphic novel fans might love it, you know? And I’ll try and comment on my children’s reactions after they read it. In the meantime, Cyndi Marko’s Sloth Sleuth popped onto my radar because my youngest read her ‘Kung Pow Chicken’ series (I can’t remember how THAT popped onto my radar–oh, well!), and when I saw Sloth Sleuth listed as her newest book, hey–it seemed like fun. And really, the premise IS fun–a mysteriously hidden island full of shady characters plus a policewoman and a librarian, and a sloth investigating a crime wave in the middle of them all. The sloth alternates between periodically falling asleep and acting like a seasoned investigative operative, and there are gadgets. My problem with it all is that it seems more like a string of fun scenes and things threaded together rather than a cohesive mystery with strong characterization. Do I think its intended audience is going to care? Not necessarily. On the other hand, the more completely put together the books we give our children are, the more they’ll learn about successfully expressing themselves well–so there’s that. I’m going to try and get my friend Britt to read it and offer her opinion; in the meantime, let me know what YOU think!

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!