Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

That’s all I’ve got, folks.  Tonight I scrubbed my tub as well as my bathroom sink and countertop–and then there was laundry.  The tooth fairy did double duty in the downstairs bedroom.  Both of my hymns for tomorrow are more than a page long, and right now, I’m just plain poopered.  I hope you all enjoyed your wearing of the green!

I finished Terri Libenson’s Invisible Emmie tonight, which means that my older girls now get to decide who gets to read it first.  (I used to get a copy for each of them if they were on the same book in a series–it didn’t happen often–but when the book is newer and popular that just feels selfish.  Besides, I don’t need the same book taking up space on two library cards.  My library issues make that, well, undesirable.)  My older girl is feeling emotional tonight, which meant a discourse on how she can’t think of more than one book she’s ever gotten first–her younger sister always grabs it!–except, of course, for the last one.  I’m not so inclined to care, honestly, because Girlie #2 offered that last one to her older sister first, and her older sister’s only a third of the way through a big fat mystery anyway.  I might have to remember who gets this one first, though.  Taking actual official turns really might have to be a thing.

Anyway.  Invisible Emmie was a lovely debut, sort of a highly illustrated novel with graphic novel interludes, about middle school and friends and feeling invisible and learning how to talk to people and speak up for yourself.  It’s beautifully safe for younger readers on higher reading levels–like Girlie #2–and would be a perfect fit for anyone struggling with shyness or social anxiety.  OR anyone that isn’t but could use help understanding people who do.  OR, well–anyone!  If you’ve got a latter elementary or middle schooler, this ought to go over well, especially with girls.  I’m looking forward to Libenson’s next book!*

*It’s apparently due out in May.

You HAVE to buy some at that price, right?  And then bring one of the heads to your friend’s house the next day to try this Slow Cooker Whole Cauliflower recipe?  Well, you do if you’re me, and I have to say, it was pretty tasty.  I added more parsley than it called for (because really, when don’t I?) and she put in more lemon juice because it looked like so very little liquid, and it was really kind of delightful.  Very soft–we used a teeny head, and we probably should have reduced the cook time–but full of flavor.  I’m absolutely going to try this again.*

*Be warned, though–the smell of cooking cauliflower will permeate your house, no matter what your cooking method.  If that’s going to bother you, you may want to plug in your crock pot outside.

Of which, of course, my oldest daughter is one.  I can’t remember what I was doing when Bruce Coville’s Ghost trilogy blipped onto my radar, but it seemed like the kind of thing she’d enjoy.  I therefore put The Ghost in the Third Row on hold at our library, and the rest is almost history–we’ve both read it AND The Ghost Wore Gray, and I just finished The Ghost in the Big Brass Bed on the treadmill and stuck it on her bookshelf on my way upstairs.  All three are fairly short, fast-paced, action-packed, and filled with just enough history to make me want to do a happy dance; they’re not difficult reads, but they’re certainly for middle elementary students and up (unless, I suppose, you have an excellent very young reader who’s really into ghosts and isn’t going to have nightmares after reading about them).  There were a lot of ghost stories like this in the mid-70s to the early 90s, now that I’m thinking about it–Avi’s Something Upstairs, Richard Peck’s The Ghost Belonged to Me and Voices After Midnight, and more that escape me at the moment–stories with just a bit of a similar feel to them.  If you or your kiddos have enjoyed any of those, try these; if you enjoy these, try some of those next.

Either way, you won’t be disappointed.

On the one hand, this is the LAST TIME I’ll have to potty train.  On the other hand, I washed out this week’s fourth pair of stinky panties today.

We’ve come to the last published Baby-Sitters Club graphic novel, which means there would shortly be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth from my older girls–except that I just saw on Amazon that a sixth book is due out this August.  (Insert chorus of relieved 8- and 11-year-old sighs.)  Dawn and the Impossible Three was written by Gale Galligan, by the way; from what I’ve read, she’s been an associate of Raina Telgemeier’s, and she did an excellent job picking up where she left off.  (True, I prefer Telgemeier’s art, but it didn’t take me long to get used to Galligan’s, and I didn’t feel any lack in the story.)  We see Dawn grappling with a babysitting dilemma that culminates in a missing child; it turns out to have been a non-custodial parent angry because of the custodial parent’s failure to keep to the agreed-on schedule, which makes it serious but not more traumatic than the target audience’s parents might want them handling in fiction.  Other changes are affecting some of the club members; overall, it’s a nice little story about growing up and learning to compromise and communicate concerns clearly.  If you were or are a fan, be assured that the change in authors is no reason to drop the series–it remains worthwhile fare for elementary and middle schoolers, as well as nostalgic fun for people like me.

Now to hand the one library copy off to both of my girls without generating conflict… 

I finished Jason Reynolds’ Long Way Down on the last day of February, just in time to count it for the Goodreads challenge my library system does; February’s challenge was to read a book by an African-American author, and since the Newberys were announced at the beginning of February, Long Way Down seemed like a perfect fit.  (I just had to finish my other book first.)  I was honestly impressed by it, especially the ending; I was expecting something a little more–fable-y?  Instead, well–let’s just say it packed a powerful punch, but in an unexpected way.

Still, I was conflicted (which is why I’ve been putting off this review).  The Newberys are awarded to the authors of the most distinguished contributions to American literature for children.  Not only is Long Way Down designated as YF at our library, it has a derivative of the f-word not 25 pages in.  (A lesser expletive shows up on page 65.)  And then there’s the plot–Will’s brother is shot, Will takes his brother’s gun to follow the neighborhood ‘rules’ and avenge his death, and then Will gets into his building’s elevator to head down towards his mission.  Only for each floor he passes, someone connected to him shows up.  Someone dead.

Someone killed by a gun.

It’s an impressive idea to begin with, and Reynolds executes it just about perfectly.  Will’s voice, his anguish, his turmoil–they all feel desperately real.  I was sucked in from the get-go and (metaphorically) holding my breath for the ending.  When I actually GOT there, I was in shock for a minute or two, but–how perfect!  The idealist in me wanted more resolution, but the writer in me recognized that Reynolds’ ending was better than anything I could have imagined.  All in all, it’s a pretty amazing book; it certainly deserves awards.

Those awards, however, are–again–why I’m conflicted.  Can a book truly be both a Printz Honor book AND a Newbery Honor book?  Or, since it appears that it can be, should it be?  I recognize that we live in a world where children have to deal with the realities of gun violence, where Long Way Down may feel more relevant than most of the books my own children read, but is that enough of a reason to consider it literature for children?  At least three different organizations honored it specifically as a YA title, and Amazon lists it as a book for teens.  Ultimately, I fail to see how anyone can argue that it was written for children, that children are its actual target audience.  Jason Reynolds wrote an amazing book, and I’m seriously glad it won most of the awards it did.  As for this past year’s Newbery Committee–really, folks?

Really?

If you were designing a 2,000 piece map-of-the-world jigsaw puzzle–complete with, you know, ALL THE OCEANS–wouldn’t you go with the ever-popular brownish-gray color for the back of the pieces, instead of an impressively watery shade of blue?

Just sayin’.

I just finished reading Zita the Spacegirl in order to see if my girls would like it; they both love graphic novels, but it remains to be seen whether it will be too easy for my oldest and too sci-fi for my 8-year-old.  It’s certainly simpler than anything by Raina Telgemeier or Victoria Jamieson, but it’s still a nice story;  Zita accidentally gets her friend kidnapped by aliens and follows him in order to find him and bring him home, attracting a motley group of friends on the way.  There are some very traditional plot points here–the con man who comes through at the end comes to mind most immediately–but it’s short, sweet, and solid in the ways that count the most.  (I would have preferred it to be longer with more character development, but then, I’m 38, not 8.)  If your elementary school-er likes sci-fi and/or graphic novels, give this one a try.

That’s what I spent the evening doing, and it’s a good thing, but my sciatic is now officially done for the day.  Which means no real post, because sitting on my bar stool for long enough to review anything is something I cannot face.  Signing off!