Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Okay, so I said that about the last one, too.  But this one is just as fabulous in a different way, and BOTH of my girls loved it, as did I–AND my mother.

Now, if you happen to have read Piggie Pie!, Zoom Broom is actually its sequel.  I have read Piggie Pie!, but here’s the thing–it’s been a while, and I really don’t remember it all that well, so I’m not going to say anything more about it in this particular post.  You certainly don’t need to have read it to enjoy Zoom Broom, because it has a bit of something for everyone.  Puns?  Check.  Amusing Alliteration (you see what I did there?)?  Check.  Hilarious literary allusions?  Check.  A ‘Who’s on First’ style comic exchange?  Check.  Sly humor throughout?  Check.

With that line-up, you really can’t lose.  You’ll fall in love with Gritch the Witch on the first page (as she’s eating her batscotti), sympathize with her coney cravings, relate to her transportation troubles, and revel in her retail experience.  (I want to be more specific, actually, but I hate to ruin the pleasure of enjoying the jokes as they unfold.)  Just trust me on this one–if three generations of our family loved this book this Halloween, your family is going to as well.  Order now, and you can stick it in your Halloween box before it gets put away!

(Cough.)  Not that mine is still sitting out or anything…

I considered blogging about something controversial tonight; it’s possible I still might in the future, but I can’t bring myself to go there right now.  My baby girl is cutting her two bottom teeth while battling an unpleasant cold and sporting chapped, eczema-y cheeks that make me wince whenever I look at them, which adds up to still not very much sleep for me.  Controversy is best tackled when reasonably well-rested.

And that, my friends, is why I’m eschewing it tonight (thanks to Mr. Lenihan, may he rest in peace) in favor of grammar, which is what Cece Bell’s I Yam a Donkey is about (more or less).  This cautionary tale features a grammatically-challenged donkey and a pedantic yam, whose obsessive focus on correct grammar proves myopic in the end.  (Now I just can’t help it.  And really, the yam does serve as a bellwether of sorts…)  The first Amazon review listed accuses Bell of continuing the joke for too long; I can appreciate where the reviewer is coming from, but I think the twist at the end begs for a long lead-in.  I laughed out loud at the unexpectedness of it and my girlies enjoyed it as well–which is, of course, the consummation devoutly to be wished for by any children’s author worth his or her salt. (Kudos to Mrs. Mumford for that one–may she also ever rest in peace.)

Fellow grammar sticklers–you really ought to buy this one.

It is my sad duty to report that today’s post options have not materialized.  Because TEETHING.

I do hope to be back on the 7th (then again, my kids have GUMS OF STEEL).  In the meantime, remember, remember the 5th of November.

Signing off.

Once upon a time, when my friend Andrea and I used to cook together, we tried this Taste of Home recipe for Pineapple Mallow Slaw.  Really, we were BOTH into it, so maybe it’s not as weird as my hubby probably thinks; it’s a (very) tangy salad with shredded cabbage, pineapple tidbits, Craisins, mini-marshmallows, and a mayonnaise-based (but still vinegar-y) dressing.  (I’m pretty sure we tried this in my coleslaw phase; I went through a bunch of slaw recipes from Taste of Home and then bought a cabbage or two and we tried the ones that sounded best.)

Now, before you bail at the idea of cabbage in a mayo-based dressing, let me assure you that I loathe KFC coleslaw.  (My dad loves it.)  The sweet mayo vibe creeps me out, and when I try it periodically, thinking surely this is better than I remember it being, I always conclude that NO.  No it isn’t.  I had all of these recipes from Taste of Home, however, and I decided that I couldn’t chuck them without experimenting with other styles of slaw, because there might be something good out there.  Enter–this recipe.  It’s tangy, it’s crunchy, it’s tart, it’s sweet–it’s lovely.  (It’s also, by the way, best made with 2/3 of the amount of dressing it calls for.  The cabbage provides plenty of liquid as it chills; it would be SWIMMING in the full amount.  Trust me on this.)  I found some other keepers as well, but it’s this one I finally made on Halloween because I WANTED it, dang it, and hey, I had to bring a salad to a friend’s son’s baptism anyway.

I ate all of the leftovers myself.

Normally we get out more decorations for Halloween.  I’m not exactly known for my immaculate housekeeping, of course, so what we do and how long it lasts varies from year to year, but there are generally decorations in multiple rooms; last year we even had an outside spiderweb, with spiders.

This year?  Ummm…

First of all, we lost the last week and a half of September and the first bit of October to vomit–lots of it–and other unpleasant bodily substances.  (At one point four of us were throwing up on the same night, and it’s only thanks to my sister’s wisdom and a box and a half of baking soda that our couch is usable again.)  By the time my oldest stopped having tummy aches off and on (it was one evil virus, let me tell you what), I was stressing about going out of town, because my parents went back to New England for a 50th wedding anniversary trip, and my sister masterminded a surprise that involved all three of their children showing up and joining them for a weekend.  (Props to my fabulous mother-in-law for taking my kiddos while my hubby worked.  The reveal was everything we could have hoped for–my mother cried.)  I stressed about packing for myself, I stressed about packing up my kiddos (it was fall break, meaning the cousins were also out of school, meaning that it was not going to go well to have my mother-in-law stay here instead), and I got up every night with a baby who seems to be teething like my oldest did.  (In case you were wondering, this is  NOT.  A.  GOOD.  THING.)  When I got back, my hubby had to have an emergency root canal, and then there was the unpacking…

Yeah.  Decorations mostly didn’t happen.  Somewhere along the way, however, I started grabbing Halloween books off the library displays with abandon, and so this became, instead, the Year of the Halloween Books.  (In case you’re wondering, at one point we had 197 library books checked out and in our house somewhere.)  It seemed like a workable alternative to some of our usual traditions, and overall it was a success; a few were duds, of course, but many were cute, and some were fabulous.

One of my favorites was also a huge hit with my oldest; girlie #2 was a little young, both in years and in temperament, to enjoy it this year.  Adam Rex’s book of poems about all sorts of Halloween monsters is delightfully named Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich (And Other Stories You’re Sure to Like, Because They’re All About Monsters, And Some of Them are Also About Food.  You Like Food, Don’t You?  Well, All Right Then.)

Got that?

Seriously, these are some fabulous poems.  Frankenstein makes that sandwich with food the townspeople throw at him; the Phantom of the Opera can’t get “It’s a Small World After All” out of his head; Dracula has spinach in his teeth and everyone’s afraid to tell him; and Bigfoot is incensed at being called Yeti.  The illustrations only add to the craziness, making the book as a whole a delight for the middle- and latter-elementary crowd.  SIAS?  (Which stands for summary in a sentence, and comes from E. L. Konigsburg’s incredible Silent to the Bone, in case you’re wondering.)

Add this one to your Halloween collection.

So…sick baby.

Halloween weekend.

Third grade science fair project due this week.

Friend’s baptism.

Purchasing a car.

Two soup pots full of grapes en route to becoming freezer jam.

I need a nap.

Keeping the Sabbath day holy isn’t always easy, especially when you’re wrestling small children all day long.  One of the things I’ve tried that works, however, is setting aside a ‘Sunday book.’  I always read before bed, at least, and when I’m doing better at treating the Sabbath differently, I set aside whatever book I happen to be reading in favor of something–well, I suppose the term religious covers it, although it’s not quite what I’m looking for.  That’s how I read Gordon B. Hinkley’s biography (the previous prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), and that’s how I read It is Better to Look Up: Life Experiences from the Pulpit.  It’s a relatively short book of powerful and inspiring personal experiences that have been shared in various settings by various members of our church; it’s also beautifully illustrated.  I can’t remember if it was a gift or I purchased it for myself, but I’m glad to have it, both as a book and as a resource.

It’s well worth your time and money.

Okay, folks, here’s a parenting question for you.  My 9-year-old has a pair of cute black leggings that she’s been planning to wear with her Bumblebee costume to her school Halloween party, as well as with a Ladybug costume for Daddy’s work party and whichever costume she decides on for Halloween night. She wore them to school today after I assured her that I could wash them between now and then; despite my suggestion that it was a warm day and we were short on time, she ALSO wore them under her costume when she went to dance…where she then got hot and took them off.

There, presumably, they remain.  And she doesn’t have dance again until Monday.

Here’s the thing.  Since I suggested she not wear them–BECAUSE IT WAS GOING TO BE FAIRLY WARM, mind you–she just smiled sheepishly when I pointed out the problem.  She’s a smart girl–she knows it was all her.  (She didn’t even complain.)  She’s also a forgetful girl, and making a trip to fix a mistake she does make sort of frequently seems like a bailout.  On the other hand, those really were the perfect thing to wear under her costume…and it’s going to be chilly enough on Halloween night that now we have to come up with something else for her to wear instead.  Not to mention the fact that I have a sneaking desire to bail her out anyway–because she’s my sensible, responsible, helpful girlie, and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal for me to text her teacher and figure something out.

Thoughts?

When I requested a copy of Kid Athletes:  True Tales of Childhood from Sports Legends, I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to enjoy it.  After all, when I was a child, I was pretty much the epitome of a Bookworm; at my first college football game, my freshman roommate had to explain to me what a first down was.  I have a very athletic almost-nine-year-old, however, and I thought she’d find it interesting. Surprisingly, I did, too.

Kid Athletes covers an impressive range of sports stars, I have to say–from Tiger Woods to Danica Patrick, from Jackie Robinson to Yao Ming.  (Also Bobby Orr, and Gabby Douglas, and–like I said.  An impressive range.)  Each chapter covers a different athlete, highlighting his or her early life and how it led to a career in sports.  The book is divided into three parts, but there was quite a bit of overlap; I’m not sure I would have organized the book that way if it had been up to me, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t matter, either.  What did matter was how often I found myself wanting to tap the shoulder of the person next to me and say “hey, did you know…?”  The cartoon illustrations only made the stories more interesting (although I did find it interesting that Doogie Horner downplayed race in his cartoon figures, even when, as with Jackie Robinson, it was an important part of the athlete’s story.)  Bottom line?  These are generally compelling real-life stories of success that often involve overcoming quite a bit of adversity.  I think kids will be entertained; I hope they’ll be inspired; I know they’ll learn something new.

I grabbed the ARC of Michele Claire Lucas’s A High and Hidden Place years ago, when I was childless and working full-time at Borders (may it rest in peace).  Honestly, I often avoid fiction about Europe during WWII–there are so many excellent non-fiction options out there–but this book was inspired by true events, and the premise was intriguing enough to hook me.  It’s been sitting with my other free Borders books ever since, waiting to be chosen; I finally pulled it out a couple of weeks ago, and now I can’t help thinking–Why did I wait this long?

A High and Hidden Place has a haunting quality reminiscent of Kate Mosse’s The Winter Ghosts, possibly because both books tell the story of a doomed community in France.  Where Mosse weaves together the recent and ancient pasts, however, Lucas gives us the story of a young woman’s past as she discovers it.  Christine Lenoir was raised in a French orphanage and has believed all her life that her parents died of influenza when she was small.  In 1963, however, as a journalist temporarily assigned to her magazine’s American office, she watches the footage of JFK’s assassination and the subsequent shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald and is disturbed by her reaction.  How did she know–immediately–that the popping sounds she heard were gunshots?  Why is she suddenly troubled by bits and pieces of unfamiliar memories?  She returns to the convent to delve into her past; it is there that she remembers being, once upon a time, Christine of Oradour.

The remnants of the village of Oradour-sur-Glane stand as a testament to the atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis; when Christine visits and learns the truth of her past, her faith is shaken and her worldview is altered forever.  What held me spellbound, however, is the fact that the past with which she must come to terms is a too-often-forgotten piece of the history of Europe during World War II.  While Christine herself is fictional, Oradour-sur-Glane is very real indeed.

To be fair, reading on an airplane is often a slightly otherworldly experience, but I would have been enthralled by A High and Hidden Place regardless.  It’s not a perfect novel, but the entire story is compelling–the true story of Oradour; Christine’s discovery of her past; her friend Sophie, a Jew who lost most of her family to the camps but retains an impressive perspective on truth and God.  I especially appreciate Lucas’s reminder that World War II was a multi-faceted tragedy; the Holocaust is an essential part of its history, but it isn’t the only part.  Lucas’s description of the fate of the village is difficult to read, especially as a mother of four–indeed, if it weren’t for the dreamlike quality of her writing, I might have found it prohibitively difficult–but so are survivor accounts of the concentration camps.  Such is history.

Ultimately, I wish I’d read this book when I was still a bookseller; I would have told my customers about this one.  That was then, however, and this is now–and so, instead, I’m telling you.