Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

This year I officially became the kind of mom who wraps a book for her child for Christmas with her bookmark still in it; not cool, maybe, but my son’s too wrapped up in the Battle of the Books to read it immediately, and it was a busy December. I did manage to finish it a day or two after Christmas, however, and it was EXCELLENT. If you haven’t read Jordan Sonnenblick’s The Boy Who Failed Show and Tell, I HIGHLY recommend it. (Apparently I’m all about the caps in 2023, and I should probably mention that I started this post on New Year’s Eve and I’m just now attempting to finish it, because that’s how I’m rolling at the moment.) I recommend it even more highly for boys with anxiety, asthma, or ADD–and their parents. Also teachers? OR boys who love music, have had school struggles, or have reptiles for pets.

Also to everybody. Because I really did like it that much.

Jordan generally has bad luck predicting which teachers he’ll like and which he won’t, but his fourth grade teacher is bad news from the get-go. She isn’t necessarily unrealistic for back in the day, I’m guessing–the book starts in 1978 or ’79–but she horrifies both the parent and the teacher in me. Jordan isn’t necessarily the easiest kid, partly because his asthma medications make him jittery, but his teacher is seriously terrible, which leads to a series of struggles and changes that end up pushing Jordan into a much better space in his life. What kids are going to love, however, is Jordan’s matter-of-fact, beautifully comic narrating style coupled with his every-kid appeal. I’m expecting my son to love this one…once he finishes the Battle of the Books and starts reading other options again. In the meantime, go check it out.

You’ll be glad you did.

So…Christmas was lovely–we are blessed–and two of my sisters-in-law graciously took my kiddos so my hubby and I could have a mini-staycation for our anniversary; now I’m posting because I want the books I’ve finished in 2022 to count for my Goodreads goal, and that involves reviewing them as part of the ‘marking as read’ process.

First up? Chris Barton’s Can I See Your I.D.?: True Stories of False Identities, which I finished yesterday evening. This was a completely interesting read told in second person–as in, “you wonder this, and then you do this”–which I kind of hated but which might well be the best way to tell these stories to a youth audience. Youth? Opinions? The voice aside, learning about ten people who assumed false identities for a wide variety of reasons was neat in an “I sympathize with some of them and am completely baffled by others” kind of way. If the topic interests you, I’d recommend it–it’s short but fascinating.

How about you, folks? Anybody out there all ready for Christmas and just kicking back with your feet up? If so, well–keep that to yourself. Deal?

Anyway. I wrote out Christmas cards this morning before driving all the people all the places and then coming home to feed some of those same people; if I take a minute to review Margarita Engle’s Singing With Elephants now, I’ll be able to check yet another thing off my to-do list, and what’s not to love about that? If you’re an Engle fan, this might feel like a bit of a departure, it being mostly fiction. It does, however, feature a real poet of the time–Gabriela Mistral–and a blend of activism and advocacy, and that has Engle’s name written all over it. Eleven-year-old Oriol is a Cuban immigrant struggling to find a place in her new California home when she happens upon Mistral, who adopts her as a pupil. Mistral’s guidance proves invaluable when a nearby animal needs help, and what follows is a lovely story of love, hope, and a realistic(ish) amount of compromise. Animal and verse novel fans should enjoy this one–although I wouldn’t necessarily recommend a busy December as the ideal time to experience it.

Padma Venkatraman’s Born Behind Bars is another ‘Battle of the Books’ title this year, and I’m so glad that pushed me to read it. (It’s been on my radar, yes, but who knows when/if I would have gotten to it?) It’s a story reminiscent of Soontornvat’s A Wish in the Dark, except that where she marries Thai culture and fantasy, Venkatraman writes fully realistic fiction. Each features a boy who leaves jail–the only world he’s ever known–when still a child, but Venkatraman’s Kabir lives in modern-day India and is hoping to find his father’s family, even though (as far as his mother knows) they know nothing of his existence. Luckily for him, a Roma girl who lives in a tree takes him under her wing and helps him find his way; what transpires is poignant, hopeful, and so good that I can hardly wait to check out more of Venkatraman’s books. Go read this one!

In the meantime, I finally started wrapping yesterday, we have successfully filled our church-cleaning assignment for the month, and I think all I have left to shop for before Christmas is food items. (Of course, since I won’t be in Idaho with my side of the family until mid-January, I’ll still have some shopping to do afterwards.) Good luck in all of your Christmas preparations, and when you’re extra stressed, may you find your peace in Christ.

Y’all know that, right? I mean, I know I’ve mentioned it before. And yet Stephan Pastis’ Mistakes Were Made (Timmy Failure, #1)–which I finished yesterday–left me supremely unimpressed. I went INTO it with high hopes, partly because I so desperately wanted a “Wimpy Kid”-like series to present to my son so he doesn’t just reread “Wimpy Kid”; unfortunately, I found Timmy himself to be just plain unlikable. He’s entertaining, sure, but in a weirdly extreme kind of way, and his complete inability to recognize fault in himself is rivalled only by his singular lack of sympathy, empathy, or compassion for anyone else. The humor seems aimed at adults, and yet as a parent I want no part of Timmy, because who wants their kids to act like that? It would be different if lessons were learned, but I didn’t see that happening, particularly. Instead, Timmy gets all his cases wrong and makes a nuisance of himself. The line between funny and cringy was crossed.

Bottom line? It’s not going under my Christmas tree this–or any other–year.

Tonight I finished reading Don’t Feed the Boy aloud to my 13-year-old, in two sessions no less. She’s a solid animal lover and has been persistent in making time for us to read this one; I liked the book fine, but I enjoyed having her so excited about reading together more. It was an interesting story, certainly–a boy who grows up living at the zoo, since both of his parents work there, befriends a girl who sits and draws the birds. Their friendship is his first real connection outside the zoo, and while she opens up the world for him, he wants desperately to help her find a way out of a bad home situation. That situation drives the action and shows Whit all kinds of things about his zoo life he hasn’t really understood; on the other hand, parts of it felt unreal to me. Not that bad things don’t happen–I know they do–but the tone of the book, and especially the illustrations, contrasted oddly with some of the events. (I’m not going to give away any more than that, but I’d be interested to know what you guys think; my girlie really liked it.) In the meantime, my son woke me up at 4 am because HE woke up and wiggled a loose tooth until it popped out and so he wanted me to help him look for it; I put him off until a more normal hour, but neither one of us fell solidly back asleep again, and I am tired. A good night to you all!

Quick recap? My youngest bloomed into a spectacular rash this week courtesy of the antibiotics she was almost done with; my son had a miserable week due to side effects from the steroid prescribed to help his cough. We have survived, kids have gone to various birthday parties, and I have started actually sealing Christmas cards. Wahoo!

Anyway. Last night was also our ward Christmas party, which was fun. We had dinner, there was a brief activity/presentation, and Santa came at the end; my hubby left right after the kids saw Santa to get a few things done at home, while the younger kids and I stayed and helped clean up. (At least my son and I did.) We finally headed home with leftovers galore, but it was a late night for all of us, made later by the fact that I was so close to the end of “Dragonbreath” #4: Lair of the Bat Monster that I stayed up and finished it. (Luckily, the littles slept in some.) Ursula Vernon is just always such a good time that I couldn’t resist–it’s the expressions AND the writing, and if your elementary schoolers haven’t read any of her books yet, they should definitely go under your Christmas tree. In this one Danny and Wendell end up in the jungle with Danny’s bat researching cousin Steve, where they come across (surprise!) an honest-to-goodness bat monster. Adventures ensue, of course, as you either know or will find out when you read the series; I’m passing it off to my son now, but I look forward to reading and reviewing the next one. Now I’m off to address more Christmas cards!

That’s how December’s going to be, folks–we’re just going to call it a win every time I post. Of course, it would ALSO be a win if all my kiddos could make it to school…my youngest developed a rash yesterday evening that bloomed SPECTACULARLY overnight, meaning I had to take her to the doctor’s before sending her to school (turns out it was an immune response to Augmentin with a scientific name) and my son STILL didn’t go to school today. He coughs and he coughs, but there’s nothing else really wrong with him. (Okay, lower appetite and higher tired levels, but that’s not necessarily shocking under the circumstances.) I told him he has to GO tomorrow and then if it’s bad he can call me, so we’ll see how that goes.

In the meantime, today I worked on our Christmas card (by which I mean I found pictures and sent them to Britt to work on), made homemade tomato soup with the majority of what’s left of the garden tomatoes, sorted the dirty clothes and managed one load of laundry, played chauffeur, and didn’t get tacos for dinner. Last night, however, I finished listening to Linda Holmes’ Evvie Drake Starts Over, and if I review it tonight, I can put it in a “leaving my house” pile, and what’s not to love about that?

Anyway. Evvie Drake has a totally engaging premise–widow rents space to a major league pitcher with the ‘yips’ and their initial “don’t talk about the husband or baseball” agreement doesn’t stick–and parts of it were impressive. Evvie’s dead husband manages to be more than two dimensional–although not likable–and Dean’s baseball struggles gave me a glimpse into a world I know very little about. The number of f-words bothered me enough that I didn’t even consider keeping the ex-library copy I picked up for cheap, however, and while Holmes got Maine geographically right, she missed the feel of it–at least for me. To be fair, non-New Englanders who are less bothered by language probably won’t care, and Holmes is at her most impressive in her portrayal of Evvie’s marriage and subsequent widowhood, so it’s a worthwhile read if that describes you. If it doesn’t, however, I’d skip this one, although not without regret.

I was going to review The Good Thieves yesterday, but there was a piano recital and Christmas decorating and then after my shower I got tired faster than I expected. Ah, well! The important thing is that I seriously enjoyed Katherine Rundell’s The Good Thieves; Vita’s mesmerizing 1920s adventure has an Eva Ibbotson flavor about it, as well as a bit of the feel of Splendors and Glooms. Her quest to return her grandfather’s ancestral home to him after a ruthless (and criminal) businessman steals it is fraught with danger, and I was rooting for her and the troupe of friends she gathers around her all the way. Definitely worth your time.

In the meantime, we need to figure out our dinner plans and continue trying to create Christmas order from our living room’s current chaos; have a wonderful Sunday!

That was yesterday, folks. I made appointments–SO MANY APPOINTMENTS–and registered my son for basketball and got Palmer his crickets and everybody I was responsible for where they needed to go and even put dinner in the crockpot in record time; I just didn’t finish the day with a blog post. And so you have me today, instead, after a two hour school delay so the roads could be cleared after snow in the wee hours, after getting my car registered and squared away, after making sure piano happened, and after tucking in 3 out of 4 kiddos so far. It works out nicely, too, because I finished the last few pages of Eric Gapstur’s Sort of Super during my youngest daughter’s piano lesson, which means I can review it tonight and have it ready for my son in the morning. Not that he’s not busy rereading the “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” books and all, plus his current Battle of the Books book, but Sort of Super is ALSO Battle of the Books–AND a graphic novel. (It’ll be his last quick read on the list, I’m thinking, but I am proud of him for how far he’s gotten already!) Super is a debut graphic novel, actually, about an eleven-year-old boy who develops superpowers, his ultra-smart younger sister, and a nefarious animal-stealing plot; it’s fast-moving and less than 250 pages, and if you’re looking for a graphic novel to give your elementary schooler for Christmas, this one’s a solid choice. Wyatt’s the main character but his sister’s the brain, which gives it a nicely wide appeal, and the art is fun. (And I was surprised at how engaged I was after the first bit, since it’s less my thing.) Here’s hoping this helps someone with their Christmas shopping!