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A review of books and parenting

Okay, so I’m a week or two, or three, over deadline, but the last challenge in the 31 days to a Better Blog over at Yeah Write was to write a review. Even though I’ve never written a review, I’ve recently read some pretty good books, so I figured, why not? And because I’m quite the multi-tasker, I thought I’d try a double review, of both books and my parenting skills.

How do those things tie together you wonder? Let me introduce you to my rating system.

1 star – I’m making fresh dinners, playing ball with the kids on the lawn, going bike riding, etc… Book? What book? Oh, right… that thing in my bag getting covered in cookie crumbs and marks from loose crayons.

2 stars – Kids and I are running and playing. The book comes out randomly while waiting for kids to finish up whatever they are doing. Still rather watch Housewives.

3 stars – I’m reading while pretending to watch kids play on lawn. Here’s an iTouch, kid, now go away. We’re out for pizza dinner, where I read and ignore their antics, oblivious to any dirty looks.

4 stars – Hiding in bathroom to finish chapter. Will fix your boo boo after I finish my page. Here’s some scissors, go play outside. How annoying, you want to eat? Fine. Humph! Sure watch TV all night. Just don’t bother me, I’m reading.

Now that you know the system, here’s a review of the last four books I’ve read.

I just finished Plan B by Jonathan Tropper. Tropper wrote, This is where I leave you, one of my favorite reads, certainly of last year – or it may have been the year before that, who could tell with how fast these years fly. It may even make my all-time top 10, although I’d really have to give that some more thought. Anyway, total Tropper voice in a likable ensemble, only he’s 30 years-old and having an identity crisis… Who am i? What am I doing with my life? Whine, whine. Filled with fun, 80’s references and easy to read, but lacking the depth, heartbreak and hilarity of This is where I leave you. Plan B gets a B –  2 ½ stars.

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. I picked this book up because I read somewhere that Anne Lamott recommended it. And truly, since reading Bird By Bird decades back, I will read whatever Anne writes and I will read whatever Anne recommends. I still fondly recall being so inspired by that book, I’d run to my desk early to ignore my work and write. Ah, those were the days.

Me Before You is the story of a quadriplegic who wants to die and his caretaker who has no life. Sounds depressing, but it’s actually not heavy handed and I was completely sucked in. So sucked in that for the three nights it took me to finish, my kids had cereal and milk and apples for dinner. Which is way better than when I was reading the Hunger Games, because no one ate during the 18 hours it took me to finish that book. Me Before You – 3 1/2 stars.

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight is about a mother trying to piece together the details surrounding her daughter’s unexpected death by retracing her last days on social media. Once I started, I was hooked. Reminiscent of Gone Girl in the suspenseful pacing, and changing perspectives, just not as psychotic or as good. A great summer read, even after summer. Solid 3 stars.

Starring Jules by Beth Ain. Yep, it’s a children’s book. This charming story about a feisty 2nd grader preparing for an audition for a mouthwash commercial completely captures youth in all its nervous hopefulness. From navigating friendship to conquering your fears, Jules voice is so truly, precociously eight, you can’t help but love her and root for her. What made this book even better was that I could enjoy it with my kids, so I couldn’t ignore them at all, thus placing its rating completely off the charts.

So what I’ve learned here is that unless you’re reading together, good books mean bad parenting. But that hasn’t deterred me. Hopefully, my kids will see how much I love books, then someday they will ignore their own children. A parent can only hope. books

 

 

Jumping in… one toe at a time

It was like the queen coming to tea, or somewhat more relevant to this generation, like New Direction visiting all girls school. There was cheering, wild waving and gap-toothed grins. Unbelievably, Mommy had entered the pool.

It was 90 degrees on July 4th, and we were pool squatting at a friend’s, meaning, they were on vacation and we were, uh, making sure the pool was okay. It was just us and their oasis of a yard.

pool

My kids quickly jumped in and started thrashing around like just caught fish on the deck of boat, except in water.  My husband also joined the party. In fact, he might have been the first fish in.

With the kids engaged and a parent on duty tossing them around the water, uh, supervising, I was free to read my book and relax. To the sounds of splashing and giddy laughter, I positioned myself on my friend’s comfy outdoor couch and opened my Kindle.

I was reading Me Before You. It was turning out to be the kind of book where in every spare moment, I hungrily and guilty sneak in a few finger page flips, like when I’m pretending to make lunches for the kids, or those brief minutes between giving the kids some water guns and someone crying.  Now it seemed I had a good, relaxed hour of just me and my book, without feeling like an adulterer whose husband was about to walk in. Bliss.

I was about a page in when I heard my eight year-old yell, “Look at me!”

Even though he wasn’t speaking to me, I glanced over at the pool in time to see his skinny, white body clutch his knees and cannonball.

I returned to my book, but was again distracted by my 10 year-old shouting, “My turn!”

“Me too! I can too!” I heard my five year-old squeal.

I tried to ignore them, but I couldn’t concentrate. No one expected me to participate. They knew Mommy didn’t like water or swimming, since Mommy definitely shouldn’t have seen Jaws at 5 years-old, and possibly had drowned in a prior life. No one was bothering me at all. But I was bothered.

cannonball

I placed my Kindle on the cushion. I was sitting in a pool of my own sweat anyway.

Slowly I made my way toward the pool and tentatively put a foot in the water.

My five year-old stopped mid jump, looking confused. “Mommy’s going in the pool?”

My two older boys, started cheering and chanting, “Mommy’s going in the pool!”

On doggie paddles and floats, they waded over to me. I was barely in, my anxiety rising with the water around me, deepening with each submerged step. I was in over my head, and I was only up to my knees.

They swarmed me, laughing, splashing, pulling me further in, jumping on me.  They were circling sharks and I was fresh meat.

It was kind of a blissful torture. I was so happy to be in there with them, to take part in a family moment and memory. But if they’re expecting a repeat performance anytime soon, they shouldn’t hold their breath.

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