Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

That’s the kind of creativity we’re working with today, folks. Through a combination of getting to bed late and having trouble falling asleep (I’m looking at YOU, time change), I’m kind of ridiculously tired, which means that my current writing capabilities could accurately be described as functional. Nevertheless, I finished listening to Katherine Center’s Happiness for Beginners an hour or two ago, and I’ve decided that powering through with my review is the only way to go right now. (I’m several books behind.) Katherine Center’s books serve as thoughtful comfort reads for me–they have happy, satisfying, but realistically imperfect endings, and I’ve always been a sucker for books that emphasize personal growth. In this case, our main character (Helen) is a 1st grade teacher who’s been divorced for a year and badly wants to reinvent herself. Her method of choice is a three week backpacking trip in the wilderness, but her expectations for the trip take a hit when she realizes that her younger brother’s best friend is going on the same trip. Difficulties ensue, disasters are dealt with, family rifts show signs of being mendable, and self discovery abounds.

The ending also involves a bar mitzvah and an unfortunate cooler.

If you’re having a stressful week–for example, if your struggling child had to take her driver’s test and you worried about it all day, and then she failed and was blessedly okay about it (definitely an answer to prayer), or if you’re the PTA treasurer and you’ve been involved with the PTA fundraiser last week and this week, or if you’re short on sleep–Happiness for Beginners is a solid choice; it’s cozy without being solely fluff.

Also, by coincidence, my sister just finished it, too. Go figure!

Uri Shulevitz’s Chance: Escape from the Holocaust (Memories of a Refugee Childhood) appeared on my radar after I read a couple of Shulevitz’s picture books with my kids; I went to put another one on hold, saw that title listed as a new release, and thought Absolutely! Holocaust narratives have fascinated me for decades, and this one promised a score of illustrations to boot, given that Shulevitz is a Caldecott medalist. I’ve had it around ever since my library finally received it, and when it kept missing its chance for the top spot in my TBR queue, I decided to risk trying it as a read-aloud with my 13-year-old. It was a stretch, I knew–not only does she prefer contemporary realistic fiction, she does NOT prefer books about war–but there were some graphic novel-style panels included in Shulevitz’s illustrations, and so I decided it was worth a try.

I kind of knew it was a doomed effort.

To be fair, we did get through more than one reading session, but ultimately she admitted she wanted to bail, as it ‘wasn’t really her thing.’ By that time, however, we’d gotten through the first hundred pages or so (because illustrations), which meant that I had a solid start , which meant it was much easier to go ahead and let it top the queue so I could just finish it on my own. And while it was a bit of a logistic challenge–it’s not picture book sized, but it’s bigger than your average hardcover nonetheless, and HEAVY, and my sometimes-carpal-tunnelly wrists didn’t love me reading it in bed–it was totally worth it. It may be big, but with the illustrations (and the impressively large font size, which my eyes loved), it’s not nearly as lengthy as it looks, and Uri’s memories come with observations that are usually fascinating and sometimes hilarious. His family fled Poland for the USSR fairly early in the war, which is likely why they survived. They lived in Turkestan longer than any other place there, managed to journey back to Poland after the war ended, and wound up in Paris for another longer stretch. They endured significant hardships, but of a completely different variety than the Polish Jews who ended up in concentration camps; in fact, the only WWII narrative I’ve read that bears any significant resemblance to this one is Esther Hautzig’s The Endless Steppe.

Bottom line? I recommend both books. Because it’s my blog, and I can.

In other news, I took my kiddos (plus one) to our PTA-sponsored skate night on Friday night, and then the rest of the weekend was sort of all about trying to manage our transition to the time change. (Partly because lack of sleep does bad things for my already-struggling teenager’s mental health, and I wanted to mitigate that as much as possible.) Oddly enough, while losing power late Friday night until around 1:40 Saturday morning was annoying, it made it easy to declare that we were just living our whole Saturday as if the time change had already happened. (Because I hate setting clocks, so why do it twice in twelve hours?) My deepest sympathies to all families with (and teachers of) small children this week, though. Because the struggle is real.

In this case, that means reviewing when I can and not beating myself up when I don’t get to it at the time of day in which I have the concentration for it. I’m finding that worry for my girlie is taking up a lot of mental space, and since this week and next are our PTA fundraiser, I’ve been at the school first thing in the morning yesterday and today, and I’ll likely continue to be there through next Thursday. (I’ve also been hitting the laundry pretty hard.)

Anyway. Today you get my review of Linda Sue Park’s Prairie Lotus, which I put on hold in audio back when it was one of the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature winners in 2021. I finally let it come to the head of my queue, and after listening to it, I’m reminded of just how much I enjoy Linda Sue Park at her best. Hanna is a driven sort of heroine–think Joan Bauer-esque–whose continual experiences with racism and prejudice are infuriating. Her victories are always liberally mixed with compromise, and yet her school experiences are fabulous nonetheless; what happens afterward dips into even more serious territory, and yet Hanna emerges triumphant in the ways that matter most. Park intentionally evokes Laura Ingalls Wilder even as she gives us a wholly different experience of the American frontier, and in doing so, reminds us to pay attention to the stories of those around us, especially those whose stories are not always told.

Don’t miss this one.

It was an up and down sort of weekend, with the high of my youngest girlie’s baptism, with family and friends and love, and the low of my oldest girlie struggling so severely with depression. (Even though she played a harp solo AND sang with my middle girlie and two of their cousins at the baptism.) I lack the emotional energy to go into any of it more thoroughly–except that there was frustration in getting the keys to the church where we had our luncheon and my brother-in-law went in through an unlocked window–and so I’m stopping there and giving you a quick book review.

I went looking recently for audiobooks that I haven’t already experienced but are fluffy enough to listen to when I simply can’t concentrate on anything weighty; I ended up with Jenn McKinlay’s Paris Is Always a Good Idea. Overall, it fit what I was looking for nicely; you could certainly tell where the story arc was going, but the journey there had plenty of discovery going for it. Beginning with Chelsea’s tantrum over her father’s abrupt decision to remarry (after knowing the woman in question for only a couple of weeks), it follows her attempts to regain her younger–and therefore more open and loving–self by retracing the trip through Europe she took after graduating from college. This retracing, of course, primarily involves her reconnection with the three men she dated on that trip, one each in Ireland, France, and Italy. Now, if you’re expecting a self-examination in which she realizes that a)her father is an adult with more experience of life than she actually has or b)her father’s new relationship and her relationships with her European men have much more in common than she cares to consider, well–you’ll be disappointed. (Also, the eventual sex scene did not flow with the rest of the novel, instead feeling like something obligatory that needed to be checked off a list of novel musts by the end.) On the other hand, if you want some banter, some entertaining situations, and some vicarious time in Europe–not to mention some deeper consideration about how the death of a loved one changes you–this is a solid choice. Was it perfect? No. Was it fun? Absolutely.

In other news, I’ve spent my day doggedly trying to be productive in a quiet sort of way; laundry is going, my dishwasher is finished, dishes requiring handwashing have been dealt with, and the bag of clothes going to a friend in the neighborhood with a daughter a year younger than my youngest is full. (I also shoveled this morning, which was a solid job.) Exercising is next on my list, so I’m signing off. Let’s hope this is the start of a good week!

Of course, that question ignores the fact that I’m now close to a week behind here, but life keeps conspiring against my blogging efforts–especially since I’ve been putting off my review of Lisa Graff’s Lost in the Sun until I could be coherent and take my time over it. Just to catch you up on the last week or so…

My youngest was invited to a birthday party last Friday night AND a birthday party last Saturday morning at 10–and the latter was in North Salt Lake. A present had to be obtained, waivers had to be signed, and transportation needed to happen. On Sunday we zoomed what we could of ward conference and THEN zoomed the beginning of my California niece’s mission farewell sacrament meeting in the car on the way to my Utah niece’s mission farewell. (Oh, and I made treats in the morning for the luncheon following her sacrament meeting.) On Monday my oldest had her psych eval at 8:30, which meant that she and I left around 8:10 and my hubby dropped the littles off at school. Yesterday, in a frightfully easy mistake to make under the specific circumstances, she backed into the car behind us at an intersection; no one was hurt and damage was minimal, but it was (obviously) upsetting for all concerned. This morning I took her to get blood drawn so they can test her thyroid, only because they wanted to check her fasting cholesterol she had to come fasting and it took two phlebotomists, at least four sticks, and a great deal of time before they managed to get enough blood to test. Also, my youngest was scared and spent a bit of time in our bed last night, and in related news I’ve been awake since before 4:30…

Anyway. On to Lost in the Sun, which reminded me of Gary D. Schmidt’s Okay for Now in more than one way. Boy with a good heart but a healthy dollop of not-his-fault emotional baggage? Check. Dad who’s sometimes a jerk? Check. Said boy’s unexpected friendship with a girl? Check. Said boy only has brothers? Check. And so on. It’s not just the logistics, however, that remind me of Okay for Now, it’s also the emotional impact, and if you know how I feel about Gary D. Schmidt, you’ll know that’s a serious compliment. Lost in the Sun got to me and stayed with me–Trent with his unimaginable burden of having innocently hit the hockey puck that caused another kid’s death, Fallon with her scar that made me think of Chris Crutcher’s Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes, Fallon’s dad and Trent’s mom, trying to help their kids, Trent’s brothers, with their own struggles, Ms. Emerson with her plants, Ray, Mr. Gorman, and Annie Richards, who lost HER brother to that ill-fated hockey puck. It’s a solid cast of characters, and it takes that cast of characters (plus one or two others) to help Trent heal. It’s a difficult journey for him AND the reader (at least, any reader with a heart) but the destination is so very worth it. Kids with struggles–AND the parents who love them–should definitely read this one.

Seriously, folks. Monday was already a weird holiday, since my older girls were with cousins all day until after our dinner guest left, and then PTA stuff and chores ate Tuesday, Wednesday was the big snow day, and yesterday ended up being a second snow day, given that neighborhood plowing was still pretty sketchy in the morning. I went to the temple at noon and then spent the afternoon schlepping kids and picking up library books, and then last night my hubby and I stayed up way too late finishing the puzzle we were “just going to work on for a while.” Today was a more normal Friday, to be sure, but still.

Anyway. I did make a cake this week that I’ve been meaning to try for weeks; I found the recipe in an old Taste of Home magazine and thought it sounded tasty. The thing is, while the cake was moist and lovely (sans the pecans, because I prefer my oldest child alive), the sauce was–believe it or not–too lemony. (Have I EVER said that before?!) Not that it tasted bad, because it was really a delightful sauce, but when you see “Apple Cider Sauce,” don’t you expect it to taste like apple cider? On the other hand, when a recipe calls for 2/3 C apple cider AND 1/3 C lemon juice, we all know that’s not going to happen. And so I went looking for the recipe online, to see if there was a typo in the physical magazine, and while I couldn’t find it on Taste of Home’s website (because now it wants you to log in before you can search), I did find this recipe for Nutmeg Pear Cake that’s identical to the one I made–EXCEPT that the lemon juice is listed as (mostly) optional. (It says to use at least one tablespoon.) So, while I used a Taste of Home recipe, you should absolutely use the one I’ve linked to instead. On the other hand, the sauce with the full amount of lemon juice would be great with a strawberry or raspberry cake. Let me know if you try it!

We’ve got some impressive snow out there, folks–at least for the Salt Lake valley. The kids are home, my hubby’s working from home, and I’m feeling pleased with myself for being productive instead of just vegging with a puzzle, which is what I wanted to do. (By the way, yesterday was decently busy, which is why no post until today–I wrote checks for PTA in the morning, took my 13-year-old to the orthodontist, hit Costco, fed myself, did dishes and exercised, picked up first the littles and then that same 13-year-old, did laundry, took my oldest to dance and the other kids to Zupas for Fundraiser night, grabbed takeout for the two not with us and then picked up the oldest and left the 13-year-old at dance, drove home in the increasing snow just in time to take my 8-year-old to her baptismal interview…you get the idea.) So far this morning I have exercised, done the dishes (including washing an old-timey crockpot by hand!), made jello with cut up grapes, put in two loads of laundry and folded one, read three picture books to the kiddos, emptied at least 8 fridge containers during our ‘leftovers are what’s for lunch’ party, and finished a graphic novel to pass along to the three younger kids. Go me!

Last night, however, after the craziness of the schlepping in the snow was done for the night, I had a chance to veg with a puzzle for a while, and between that and my shower, I managed to finish listening to Katherine Applegate’s Odder. (Yes, I frequently listen to audio books in the shower.) And while I didn’t love it as much as The One and Only Ivan, that had nothing to do with the quality of the book and everything to do with my personal story preferences. (I’m more of a “stories about people with animals in the stories as well” rather than “stories about animals with humans in the stories as well” kind of person.) Odder is a lovely and moving verse novel about, well, an otter (!), her friends, and an aquarium program that does what it can for the wildlife that surrounds it. It’s inspired by the Monterey Bay Aquarium program and some of the otters that have passed through its doors (I’m pleased to say that I’ve actually heard of the program because of a picture book we read once upon a time!), and it gives a charming picture of otters in general, as well as its title character in particular (yes, Odder the Otter is the protagonist). If you have animal lovers, don’t miss this one.

That’s my reaction to “Jojo Rabbit,” folks. Very possibly the weirdest movie I’ve ever seen in my life, and yet oh, it made me cry. It’s late, though, and so I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s a holiday!

That’s what I have now, folks. Yesterday the kids were off from school, and so–among other things–I took my 13-year-old to the eye doctor. She picked out frames to go with her new prescription, since she’s been complaining that she “can’t see!”, and I picked up my first pair of multi-focal lenses.

Hmmm.

They do help with the close up, yes. But stairs are weird, and when I turn my head it feels like the world is moving as well. On the other hand, I haven’t had them a full 24 hours yet, and by all accounts it takes more like a couple of days to adjust. So we’ll see?

I also finished reading Camp Panda: Helping Cubs Return to the Wild aloud to that same 13-year-old last night, and while I was thinking I might manage a same day review, we finished just before 9 and I really wasn’t feeling it. Today, though! And really, the title is self-explanatory. It’s picture book size and length, but the text is regular-book size and length, so to speak; on the other hand, there are multiple full-page photos of pandas, some of them undeniably adorable. We learned things about panda conservation efforts and how they relate to other conservation efforts, and the photos of the adults in furry panda suits were a bonus. Animal lovers should definitely check out this one!

My friend Britt has been clearing out books that her kids have outgrown or aren’t attached to; I’ve been taking boxes of those home with me to a) donate to our school’s next literacy night, b) read and then donate to our school’s next literacy night, or c) read and maybe keep for myself, depending on how I feel about them. James Patterson’s and Chris Grabenstein’s Laugh Out Loud is one of those, and now that I’ve read it myself, I’m going to have my son give it a try before donating it to that next literacy night. He may like it, he may not–his tastes are sometimes unexpected–but it’s not something I need to keep; on the other hand, it IS something that ought to be made available for middle graders to read if they choose.

Why, then, don’t I need to keep it? Saying it’s ‘not my thing’ isn’t really fair to me OR the authors, and yet I’m definitely not the intended audience. Patterson’s (completely admirable) goal for his non-adult books is to capture kids’ attention, entertain them, and make them want to read more; I’m GOING to read more no matter what, but I tend to want to emotionally connect with what I read, whether it’s with the story, the characters, or the setting. (Yes, I absolutely emotionally connect with New England.) I just plain care less about the purely entertaining factor, not to mention that what entertains me now is also not what entertained me in junior high, to some degree. (I still love reading, old movies, and cross-stitching, for example, but I no longer find the adrenaline rush of roller coasters terribly enjoyable.) Laugh Out Loud has some of the fun of an amusement park ride, which my kids love but I can now take or leave. I did get quite a kick out of its references to an impressive variety of children’s books; I’m just content to read it and pass it on. If you have a latter-elementary or middle grade child, however, you should definitely take a look.