Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

My 3-month-old has been sick this week–a cold leading to an ear infection, for which we got antibiotics on Friday–and hasn’t been going to bed as nicely as she usually does.  (Note–a crazier than normal schedule isn’t helping, either.)  And as much as I was feeling plenty busy before she got sick, losing that bit of free time in the evenings is killing me.  She usually settles around 9, which leaves me free to spend some time on the computer, make sure the kitchen is presentable enough for breakfast, practice the piano, shower, read my scriptures, and do whatever needs to be done for the next day (such as take bread out of the freezer to make sandwiches in the morning, or go through the kids’ backpacks…you get the idea).  When she’s up until 9:30 or 10, my free time window shrinks, and let me tell you what–I FEEL IT.  Because I’m in the stage of life where I have a lively 2-year-old friend from the moment I get up in the morning until 7:15 or so at night; when he goes to bed, it takes another hour and forty-five minutes before all of his sisters are there as well.  I NEED THAT FREE TIME.

Anyway.  Viruses and ear infections pass, and neither one is anything like RSV.  It could be much, much worse, and I’m truly grateful that it’s not.

I’m just missing my free time.

My oldest daughter’s second grade class has been corresponding with a second grade class from an elementary school across the valley; today the two classes met at a park for lunch and play, and (thanks to my mother-in-law’s babysitting generosity) I was able to go along.  My oldest has been struggling all week, and it’s been difficult for both of us; today was a gift, because she was thrilled to have me there, and she snuggled with  me on the bus, and it felt so good to be happy together.

Observation #1:  It’s so much nicer to hear “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” coming from the back of the bus than “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

Observation #2:  There are actually quite a few second graders shorter than my daughter.  Who knew?

Observation #3:  When a second grade boy runs up to his classmate and says, “Caitlyn!  Don’t drink the milk!,” followed by “Don’t drink the milk–it has 18 grams of sugar in it!,” do you know what to say?  Because he left me at kind of a loss for words.

Even though I love reading rhyming picture books to the kids, I was skeptical of this one.  The idea was visually fabulous, but the text was awfully simple; would it bore the girlies AND become one of those books that you cross your fingers that your kids don’t pick?

Nope.

Little Green Peas:  A Big Book of Colors is all about colors, true, and my girls are past the age of learning their colors, but between studying each page to see what the dozens of individually drawn little green peas are doing and hunting for the ladybug to be found on each two page spread, they have loved it.  The illustrations are fun enough to look at that I have no issue with the simple text, so it’s really a win all around.  If you like this one, try LMNO Peas and 1-2-3 Peas.

I just wish I’d known about them when my girlies were younger.

My hubby was out of town from Tuesday morning early until after 9 Friday night, and I am so DESPERATELY grateful to have him back!  The embarrassing thing is that I didn’t even have the four kids by myself much; my mother-in-law came Friday to stay with the baby and then Middle #1 so that I could take the boy to a doctor’s appointment and then go to one myself (after dropping the boy off to Grandma).  She took the boy home with her, leaving me with an 8 1/2 year old, a 5 3/4 year old, and a 3 month old.

It still felt really hard.

The most frustrating thing, really–other than it being all me, all the time–was trying to settle the girlies nicely into bed.  They seemed to be hyper or sad (or SOMETHING) an awful lot, and the problem was that when they go to bed, it’s the baby’s bath-, bottle-, and bedtime.  If they didn’t settle, the baby just got fussier…and she was already fussy this week.  For her.

Even with my hubby home, though, it’s still a struggle.  I know a new baby is hard on everyone, but my middles are more likely to cling more closely to me; my oldest is more likely to be mad.  Sadly, she’s also the one it’s hardest to find alone time with, or at least quiet/leisure time.  By the time she gets home from school, everything seems hectic until bedtime.  I want more time with her, but it’s hard to find.  And even if I were a fan of home schooling, it’s not the solution here–she LOVES school.  She complains all summer that she misses school and doesn’t like summer because school keeps her occupied and she gets bored at home.  (Last summer was particularly hard; I was in my first trimester and did a lot less with the kiddos than I had hoped to do, simply because I felt so yucky.)  She’s a doer with a capital D; I’m not as much of one as she is, but she also has three younger siblings, all with different needs and different schedules.  Even if I were just like her, we still wouldn’t be able to be up and doing nearly as much as she’d prefer.

Anyway.  Adjustments are hard.  I’m just really, really grateful to have my husband home.  Because it was hard without him, and because the kids missed him, and because–last but NOT least–I missed him, too.

I’m never going to be, either.  I do make friends with dogs on an individual basis, mind you–there was Napoleon, a Somoan husky, and Murphy the mutt, and, well, that might be it.  I know that dogs have many fine qualities, but I lost 3 or 4 pet cats to the neighborhood dogs’ hunting pack as a child, and I’ve never quite gotten over that.  (Most of the time cats can just climb a tree, but not when they’re leading their pursuers away from their hidden kittens.)  I was married before the sound of dogs barking at night stopped making me feel sick to my stomach, and I still hate the sound.   And yes, I know that not all dogs are killers, but I rather vividly remember my dad shooting one of the pack out of my bedroom window in the middle of the night–although by then it was too late to save the cat.

I really don’t like dogs.

That said, I checked Mountain Dog out of the library because it was by Margarita Engle, whom I love, and I did quite enjoy it.  Tony’s SAR dog friend–that’s Search And Rescue–won me over, as did Tony himself, with his incarcerated mother and his “old” great-uncle-foster-father (“nearly fifty!”).  I learned some interesting things while rooting for Tony to find a family and a new life.  I did find it fascinating,  however, to see how different this book felt from her others (most–if not all–of which I’ve read.)  They’re all verse novels, but this one’s narrator was an 11-12-year-old boy born in America, and the style reflected that very successfully.  I possibly prefer her others, but that’s a personal thing.  The fact that I liked such a dog person’s book as much as I did means she did an excellent job with this one.

On Sunday night I finished Yolanda’s Genius, a Newbery Honor book from 1996 (that would be the year I graduated from high school, by the way). And I’m finding reviewing it to be a complicated process, partly because I’m not–quite–sure just how much I liked it.  (Let’s face it–I don’t exactly have regular problems forming and sharing opinions…)  Here goes nothing, I guess!

1)Basic Plot:  Yolanda’s family moves from Chicago to a Michigan suburb because her mother fears for her children’s safety; even the suburbs, however, have their dangers.  Yolanda is tasked with both protecting her little brother and finding a way to convince their mother that he’s actually a musical genius, all while settling in and learning how not to let her mistakes get in the way of making a friend.

2)Writing style:  My preferred writing style is more on the ‘lyrical’ end of the spectrum; Yolanda’s Genius is more just–straightforward.  (Not necessarily simple.  The Book of Mormon scripture where Nephi glories in plainness comes to mind, actually.)  It works for Yolanda, and while it doesn’t seem particularly moving at first, there are passages that I found myself overwhelmed with emotion while reading.  In fact, I started this book several years ago and put it down because of how successfully the author described the pain involved in one of her key plot points.  It may not be my usual style, but there’s definitely something to it.

3)Resolution:  While somewhat improbable, the ending was satisfying.  So was the middle, actually.

4)Point to Ponder:  Can a white woman successfully write a novel from the perspective of various members of a black family?  If I don’t think so, does that mean I automatically think that a black woman can’t successfully write a like novel about a white family?  I’m inclined to think it’s a bit less about race and more about culture; I would feel more comfortable writing a novel about a black family who grew up in an area and circumstances familiar to me than one about a white family from a distant, wildly different culture.  Some aspects of culture are probably tied to race or ethnicity, but I don’t believe all of them are.  I did wonder, though.  What do you think?

5)Bottom Line:  I actually think this one is worth your time.  I didn’t find Yolanda to be completely likable, but I was certainly cheering her on (mostly) before the book was halfway over.  And for parents and teachers who find Andrew’s loss to be almost unbearable, don’t worry–it comes out okay in the end.

Today, I am grateful.

I am grateful for my mother, my mother-in-law, my sister, and my sisters-in-law.

I am grateful for my aunts, those on earth, those beyond the veil, and those by marriage.

I am grateful for my mother-friends.

I am grateful for the women who have mothered and mentored and loved me.

I am grateful for the grandmothers that I hope to know better in the next life, and for my abuelita who made my grandfather’s last years happy ones.

I am grateful for my four beautiful children.

I am blessed.  And I am grateful for it.

That’s the thing about having a baby.  You make your go-to easy meals over and over again when you’re pregnant, because there is just no energy to be had (not to mention no desire to spend more time with food than absolutely necessary).  Then you have a newborn, and until the baby starts feeding itself, you still need easy meals.  Except that by this time, you’ve exhausted all of your regular options and you’re kind of desperate for new recipes that are magically easy and delicious, because dinnertime has become a terrifying juggernaut of MAKE DINNER SHOWER THE GIRLIES CLEAN UP THE KITCHEN AS YOU GO AND FEED THE BABY FOR HOURS ON END!  (And if all of those things don’t happen in a timely fashion, either the girlies are in bed late on a school night and grouchy in the morning, or I’m using my precious and limited child-free time to do dishes, dishes, dishes.  Or the baby is screaming.)

Anyway.  In my seemingly endless quest for easy meals, I came across this recipe for One Pot BBQ Chicken Pasta on one of my Pinterest boards, and thought–hey!  I can do that!  And so I did.

I didn’t necessarily do it well, though.  I didn’t read closely enough to realize the bacon was supposed to stay in the whole time, which might have changed the flavor (although I may still be an advocate for removing it and adding it at the end, for the crispiness).  And I forgot to turn down my burner after my meat was definitively browned, which meant my onions and garlic and chicken weren’t really cooked to perfection.  I also used whole wheat pasta, which almost overpowered the other flavors, sad to say.  (I just really, really love regular pasta.  I’m trying to lean healthier, though.)  I also wish I’d used evaporated milk instead of regular, and possibly upped the milk and lessened the water (I use bouillon cubes and water for the chicken broth).  Creamier would have been nicer.

What I’m really saying is that I will try it again, but I’d like to execute the recipe better and tweak a few things.  No one complained about it, though, which is a nice thing.  Now–what are YOUR go-to easy recipes?

(Please share.  I’m feeling a little desperate about the whole thing.)

Yes indeedy, folks, I have FINISHED this year’s Newberys!  (Not that it’s been hard; remember, this was the year of two verse novels and a graphic novel.  I think I’ve mentioned my ambivalence about that.)  Jacqueline Woodson’s Brown Girl Dreaming took forever to come in at the library–it won more than one award this year–but come in it did, and I finished it on Sunday.

And what did you think?, you ask.

Hmmm.

Woodson certainly writes beautifully enough to pull off this kind of a verse novel–make no mistake about that.  She captures certain moments of her life in vivid perfection.  The longing of a girl that left behind family in both Ohio and South Carolina to end up in Brooklyn was poignantly illustrated, even as those illustrations showed us the ultimate adaptability of childhood.  I fully enjoyed the book, in fact; I do, however, wonder if it would be better termed an autobiography, rather than an autobiographical novel.  Memoirs allow for a bit less cohesiveness, and while Brown Girl Dreaming did have a message, it also had a more meandering plot.  (I possibly felt that the end was a bit more meandering than the rest of it, but that was an impression; I’m not sure I can back it up with specifics.)

Incidentally, I read an article that questioned the necessity of ‘Brown’ in the title; the author wondered if its presence would prevent it from reaching the full audience it deserves.  I’m not sure I agree with that concern; I may not be a brown girl (meaning I’m awfully white for even a white girl–it goes with the hair), but the title didn’t particularly affect how I felt about it going in.  I might agree, however, that ‘brown’ is unnecessary.  I’m honestly not sure.

Ultimately, Brown Girl Dreaming is well-written, and there were things I really enjoyed about it; I’m certainly glad I read it.  On the other hand, I wonder if it might not be too autobiography-ish for its intended audience.  Her girlhood was heavily influenced by the politics of the time–will girls nowadays care enough?  Time will tell, I suppose.  I’m not sure I loved the complete package of the novel enough to tell the world they all have to read this book, but for those who enjoy memoirs, verse novels, or history, it’s well worth your time.

You know what good friends do?

Good friends come when you’re sick, even when there’s a possibility their family’s recent virus might have been different than yours, leaving them (and their kids!) at risk of getting the evilness that hit you like a ton of bricks.

Good friends organize May the 4th parties with activities for their kids AND yours, AND they make sure you have pictures of them to blog about even if it turns out you’re just too dang tired to ask your husband how to post them.  (And make no mistake, he’s the technology behind this blog.)

And good friends show up at your door with ice cream after you cried on the phone to them during a difficult day with your overtired 8-year-old. And Snickers bites.  And Grape Vines.  (She despises grape flavoring.  She also brought ice cream for my hubby.)

Good friends are one of the greatest blessings in this life.  Make sure all of yours know how awesome they are.