Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Tuesdays and Thursdays, that is? I guess we’ll see…

Anyway. Our Father’s Day was discombobulated, because after going to our church we hightailed it north to see two of my nephews speak at their church; one just completed a service mission for our church, while the other is leaving on a proselyting mission to Argentina today. And yesterday? I mostly had a very slow start, and the rest of the day continued in the same vein. I used up what energy I had taking care of the last PTA check I’ll ever have to write (knock on wood) and cutting up a watermelon with a bruised side, courtesy of my 11-year-old son standing on it. (Picture eyeroll emoji here.)

Today my littles and I are meeting friends at the park, since my 14-year-old left for Girl’s Camp yesterday (she was on the youth planning committee) and my oldest left this morning. (I’m pondering Taco Tuesday for dinner.) Since that’s not until more like 11, however, I have time to review Angela Cervantes’ Lety Out Loud, which I ended up reading aloud with my 14-year-old. It’s a Pura Belpre (picture an accent over that last “e”) Author Honor book from several years ago, which is why it was on my radar; I picked up a cheap copy at a library sale, I think, and my girlie picked it from the group of choices I presented to her last time we were starting a new book.

Here’s the thing–I think she really enjoyed it, while I thought it was, you know, good. Lety and her friends are thoroughly likeable, and the idea of volunteering at an animal shelter worked well for a setting; the conflict worked as well, although the turnaround by the end was possibly unrealistically positive. I think my problem is just that I wanted more, you know? A little more depth, a little more background, a little more detail in general…you get the idea. And yet, it was certainly enough for its target audience. I suppose the bottom line is this–animal-loving kids will really like this one, but it’s not a must-read for an adult reading on his or her own, partly because it skews a little young. Beyond that, you’ll have to be the judge!

I was an extreme bookworm as a kid. I also lived a good fifteen minute drive from the closest library, and my mother wasn’t the sort to go to the library every week, which meant that I read a goodly portion of the novels we owned multiple times. (Except Gone With the Wind. I spent a significant bit of one summer reading that, but believe me, once was enough.) I reread the books I loved (the Anne books, much of Louisa May Alcott’s children’s fiction, A Little Princess, The Lord of the Rings) and the books I mostly really enjoyed (The Secret Garden, Huckleberry Finn, Black Beauty, my brother’s Black Stallion books); I also read library books, random books acquired from used bookstores, borrowed books, and whatever I felt most in the mood for that was on hand at the time. I even–because I was a fast reader, and I had a quiet childhood, and I didn’t start to get sick reading in the car until I had graduated from high school–read books more than once that I wasn’t that into, just because they were there.

One of those books was Harriet the Spy.

I have a memory of the copy we had having belonged to my mother, although I’m not sure now that that makes sense. It had a blond, stocky, androgynous kid in a red hoodie on the cover, and since it was one of those books that people talked about as being so good–and we owned it, so it was readily available–I read it multiple times. Every time I did, I came away wanting to like it more than I did, but hey, I was a kid, right? And because there are books I completely appreciate now that I didn’t appreciate as a kid, I decided (a month or three ago) to listen to it as an adult, to see what I thought of it now

I still don’t particularly like it.

To be fair, I did find some of the bits I’d completely forgotten about to be entertaining. The parts I vaguely remembered as not liking, however, I mostly still didn’t like, and other parts I’d forgotten about were downright exasperating. Harriet isn’t extraordinarily likeable, although she’s more so if you think of her as on the autism spectrum. I remembered Ole Golly to be more likeable than my adult self found her to be, and her exit from Harriet’s life is far more abrupt (somewhat arbitrary?) than I’d recalled. What really bothers me, however, is that the whole premise is just–wrong. As a spy, and then as the–if I recall correctly–editor of the school paper, Harriet is actually a dismal failure–and no one acknowledges it. No one ever, EVER makes the point that Harriet isn’t writing down facts at all. She’s writing down her opinion of what she sees, as well as frequently speculating based on her opinion, with no effort to self-regulate or fact check. When she’s playing at being a spy, of course, that’s sort of her business, although the kind of person we’re meant to see Ole Golly as would almost certainly have made that point to Harriet multiple times. When she’s writing her speculations in a school publication, however–it boggles the mind. How did no one complain about what she wrote?

It did occur to me that–given what I read about Louise Fitzhugh when determining if I cared about the sequels, which I don’t–she may have been intentionally rebelling against the expectation, for girls, to always be “nice”. My parents were married the year after Harriet was originally published, and my mother was certainly raised to be gracious and tactful, rather than blunt and tactless. Gracious and tactful, however, can easily become (and did in my mother’s case) distinctly passive-aggressive, and if that’s the point Fitzhugh was trying to make, I agree that it’s a point that deserves to be made. Her book, however, fails to make it. Honesty absolutely matters, but true honesty–which sees the good as well as the bad. Harriet doesn’t write down anything positive about ANYONE, as far as I can tell. Her speculations are all negative, to some degree, and although one assumes she sees good things around her OCCASIONALLY, she doesn’t write about them. Harriet isn’t nice, certainly, but she also isn’t honest; she’s negative and self-absorbed.

For those of you who may love the book–well, you do you. (Some of you also probably think Scarlet O’Hara is a role model for girls.) For those of you who haven’t read it and might be considering it–I’d say don’t waste your time.

I might have managed a post yesterday–even though it was late in the day–except that my oldest daughter ended up inviting her boyfriend’s family over to play games, and it was fun–and it lasted until well past 10:30. (More like 11?) And by then, well–no coherence was happening, obviously. On the other hand, while winding down after my shower, I did manage to finish Unplugged and Unpopular, which was an entertainingly over-the-top (and relatively short) graphic novel about the “near future…”

…in which highly intelligent but physically weak aliens are mind-controlling the residents of Los Angeles through their devices, and until Erin gets grounded from screens, only the elderly are on to them. Once Erin’s ‘unplugged,’ she learns the truth–and joins up with her grandma and twin librarians (one of whom is her grandma’s boyfriend) to stop the aliens and rescue their captives, armed with soda cannons, syrup squirters, and a host of other unlikely (preposterous?) weapons. Believable? Not even a little bit. But lots of fun, regardless–especially since the aliens are unexpectedly purple–and furry. There is an occasional lack of consideration on Erin’s part that could have been addressed (or addressed more completely), but considering the general plot and tone of the story, that was probably too much to hope for. On the other hand, there’s commentary and info about managing and balancing screentime from the authors at the end, and that matters. All in all–ridiculous but enjoyable. Grab it for your kiddos this summer!

Last night my husband started the coughing, my oldest had almost no voice at all, and I couldn’t sleep or breathe comfortably through my nose again. Ugh! On the other hand, I did manage to finish Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir this morning, mostly because I was close enough to the end that I wanted to finish it and review it today. So that’s something.

As for what I actually thought of it…hmmm. It’s definitely a boy sort of book–not because there’s a whole pack of boys running around and not many girls, but because of the doses of extreme bathroom humor. (I didn’t find diarrhea terribly entertaining in junior high, let alone now.) Still, it’s an interesting sort of road trip/coming-of-age/cultural experience kind of story, and it gave me a window into Mexican/Mexican-American culture that I didn’t have previously. Pedro’s persistent view of his grandfather through a superhero lens is both humorous and poignant, and the road trip certainly ends with a memorable finale. I’d be interested to know what readers who share at least some of Pedro’s cultural heritage think; as for me, I definitely found it worth reading–but I could have gone my whole life without hearing that many euphemisms/dysphemisms for diarrhea.

Seriously, folks–this is one beast of a summer cold. My throat is starting to hurt, I had to take cold medicine in the middle of the night last night, and oh, the stuffiness and the tired!

Anyway. On the other hand, I did finish reading Stolen Science: Thirteen Untold Stories of Scientists and Inventors Almost Written out of History aloud to my 9-year-old the other day, and it was both a good length for a read-aloud and a fascinating book. And, interestingly enough, it didn’t have quite as many villains as I thought it might; in some cases, one or more colleagues of the scientist/inventor tried to make sure credit was given where credit was due. Sometimes the more villainous prevailed; occasionally, public sentiment did what it wanted to (regardless of the actual facts); and frequently it was a little more complicated. Whatever the circumstances, budding history and science fans will find a wealth of interesting information here–and history’s record is set straighter for this book’s existence. (Yes, that’s an awkward sentence, but I’m sick and tired.)

Bottom line? Middles graders–and adults who lack the time and concentration for longer works about the same topic–should definitely check out this one.

Technically, it wasn’t supposed to be–we were supposed to go to Kanosh to visit our friends there tonight. But there was vomit Saturday, there are eye crusties and sore throats, and clearly we need to hunker down and NOT SHARE whatever plagues we have going on. Which is why, at 10:05, I’m still in my jammies with unbrushed teeth; on the other hand, I’m also reviewing Haven: A Small Cat’s Big Adventure, so that’s something.

Haven is actually by the author of graphic novels Allergic and Squished; surprisingly, though, it isn’t even illustrated. It is short, though–130 pages or so–and thus it felt doable on short notice. The title gives you much of what you need to know about the plot, although it helps if you know that Haven’s big adventure involves trying to get help for her elderly, sick human. Throw in woods, a town, a fox, and a bobcat, and you’ve got plenty of drama in those 130 pages. I’m not sure what my kiddos will think–it doesn’t quite fit what any of them are currently most into–but I’d recommend it anyway.

In the meantime, I’m pondering buying tomato plants today, since I think that’s all we’ll be growing this year. We’re several weeks late, but life happens, right? There are also library books to return and laundry to do, so I imagine we’ll fill the day. (The best part is that my hubby took my car to register it on his lunch break, and my littles are cleaning out his car of their own accord!)

It really has been busy, though. Kids have had temple–and other–appointments, and the kids and I spent Saturday and Sunday night and all day Monday in Clearfield. (My hubby came up Sunday morning and stayed with us the rest of the time.) I made PTA goals for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and I did accomplish them, but my email and such paid the price. And more than half of the kiddos have parties to go to tomorrow…

Anyway. I meant to cut up strawberries and have waffles with strawberries and cream for dinner, but I ended up taking a nap and needing something faster. When I found this recipe for Quinoa with Corn and Scallions on one of my Pinterest boards, I thought–hey, I have all of those things in some form! (I already had cooked quinoa and I used frozen corn.) I didn’t expect most of my children to be big fans, but my oldest and I enjoyed it, and my son gave it a thumbs middle; if you like that sort of salad, I highly recommend it. And now, on with the last few days of my busy week!

That’s my question, folks. I have ideas and plans for schedules and such, but there are also the church camps and the reunion and a still-up-in-the-air trip and my hubby’s surgery, and I worry that the whole summer will whirl by between one blink and the next. Today is the official last day of school–only my two younger kiddos are going/have gone–until August 14th. (Which feels ridiculous, but clearly other parents are filling out the calendar survey differently than I do.) Wish us luck!

In the meantime, I finally got around to listening to Maizy Chen’s Last Chance, one of last year’s Newbery Honor books, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Maizy and her mother drive from LA to Last Chance, Minnesota to spend the summer with Maizy’s maternal grandparents; it’s a different world, sure, but spending time with Opa and Oma is a good thing–even if it’s because Opa is sick. Luckily, he’s not too sick to tell Maizy stories about his grandfather, who emigrated from China when he was young. How that grandfather ended up starting a family in Minnesota in the 1800s is one of the book’s important stories; how Maizy deals with her mother and Oma’s arguments, her Opa’s illness, and the social ups and downs of life in a small, mostly Anglo-Saxon town is another. Even while she’s learning about what it meant to be a ‘paper son,’ she’s learning that while sometimes it’s easy to recognize hatred, enemies–and friends–don’t always look like what they really are. Her story has nigh-universal appeal while also providing an important glimpse into the challenges of being an Asian-American today; it’s well worth your time.

On the sort-of-home-front, I wrote 17 PTA checks yesterday, but that might actually be IT. Hallelujah!

That’s what I decided I’d be okay with, after I used up yesterday’s coherent hours cleaning my dining room and kitchen. After all, if I just posted Tuesday, what harm is it to move Wednesday’s post to Thursday? None, say I! Plus, it gave me time to finish Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron: A Graphic Novel, since heaven forbid I actually review one of my completed books that’s been waiting for a while. (Although to be fair, Miss Butterworth is a quick read, and none of the books still waiting are physically going back to the library.) If you’ve read much Julia Quinn, there’s a good chance you’ve heard of Miss Butterworth; if not, well–think of it this way. Julia Quinn is sometimes referred to as a modern Jane Austen; if we go with that, Miss Butterworth is her Northanger Abbey.

In graphic novel form.

With possessed pigeons.

To be honest with you, I found the graphic novel version of the famous pigeon scene a bit too graphic, if you take my meaning; nevertheless, Miss Butterworth is a whirlwind of a fantastical, tongue-firmly-in-cheek good time. What breaks my heart is that Violet Charles, the illustrator who collaborated with Quinn, was in fact Quinn’s younger sister–the one who died in a car accident (ironically) in Utah, together with Quinn’s and Charles’ father. The blow of losing two loved ones simultaneously is unimaginable, although my extended family has reason to know that it happens; the literary blow of knowing that no more Quinn/Charles collaborations will grace the world is a quiet one, in comparison, but–I was bummed. Quinn fans will grieve–but they should also enjoy Miss Butterworth.

On the home front, my son’s last 6th grade band concert was last night, and he surprised us all by performing with the jazz band, even though he’s only been practicing with them, for fun, for the last month or two. He was beaming, and it was fantastic to see–or would have been, if he hadn’t been seated on the floor and almost completely hidden most of the time. (Not to mention that their first piece featured a guest saxophonist, who stood DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF MY SON. (Did I mention that, although tall for his age, he’s a young 6th grader, as well as possibly the ONLY 6th grader in jazz band? So the guest player pretty much stood in front of the shortest kid there.)

I’ve got dishes and PTA work on my docket for the rest of my morning–and the beginning of my afternoon–so I shall leave you to your respective Thursdays. And–based on the level of crazy-and-hyper my 9-year-old was exhibiting on the way to school today–good luck to us all!

It’s been a WEEK? (Okay, a week and a day!) I hadn’t meant to get that far behind, but life has legitimately been pretty full. I chaperoned a third grade field trip last Wednesday, and Friday was incredibly full–we went to the Taylorsville Temple open house as a family, I went to a funeral and then booked it to Ream’s and home to make gluten-free funeral potatoes for the luncheon, I picked up my third grader while they were in the oven, I dropped them off and exercised and–you get the picture. There was a second funeral on Saturday, and my oldest played the piano at it while my second oldest made the cookies I signed up to bring and I did laundry like a madwoman; we had family scripture time in between all that and my doctor’s appointment and errands and the mother’s day shopping some of the kids needed to do with my hubby. On Sunday my niece and nephew and my nephew’s wife came for dinner, which occupied a fair amount of the day, but I did come up with an idea (inspiration?) for a Sunday scavenger hunt to get the kids exercise. (Although next time I’m clarifying that they can’t count things on our own street.) Yesterday was cleanup and knitting and Costco and piano lessons, which brings us to today’s I-know-it’s-Tuesday-but-I-can’t-get-any-further-behind post.

Being my own nerdy self, I finished Helen Frost’s Diamond Willow this morning (after walking my 9-year-old to school) because it’s due and not renewable this week and I was too close to the end to do anything else. (It’s also mostly a verse novel and thus not a big time commitment overall.) The thing is? It was lovely–in an oddly both-solid-and-mystical sort of way. Willow is a completely relatable Alaskan girl who is closer to her family’s sled dogs than most people; she has one close friend but feels otherwise invisible at school. When she finds herself in difficulties, however, she keeps her head and makes her way through; thus, Diamond Willow feels not so much like a true coming-of-age novel, but rather a novel of discovery and acknowledgement. Willow discovers truths about (and extra reserves of strength within) herself, and those discoveries come hand-in-hand with her parents’ recognition and acknowledgement of her strength and burgeoning maturity. And what initially confused me became one of my favorite parts of Willow’s story–she has more family supporting (and loving) her than she realizes.

I went back and forth about whether my kiddos would like this one, but ultimately I’m going to leave it up to them. My 14-year-old rarely loves any sort of mystical elements, but between the dogs and the emotional growth, she may still love this one; my 9-year-old may not understand all of the emotional complexity happening, but the dogs may enchant her anyway. We’ll see–because it seriously touched me. Don’t miss this one!