Category: Life Talk

Books, children, goals, Life Talk, school

Reader

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A possible near-future conversation between Joy and a librarian or teacher.


Librarian or Teacher, looking at Joy’s armful of books teetering nearly above her head: My, that’s a lot of books! Are you going to read all of them?

Joy: Yes, all by myself.

L or T: Really? How old are you?

Joy: I will be five in November.

L or T: And you can already read all those books by yourself? How did you learn to read so young?

Joy: I got bored.

End scene.

This kid, she amazes me. I really did start to teach her to read simply because she was bored. Bored to the point where she was getting into trouble out of frustration. She struggled a bit at first because it didn’t click immediately (and because I was an idiot and thought I could teach her with easy readers and flash cards – I’m sure that’s all some people need, but I am a lousy teacher and needed a curriculum), but we persevered (all of us – Joy and I did the official school books, but Carl would sit down and patiently work with her through regular books, even letting her read the bedtime stories sometimes), and then, ever so slowly, it started to come together. She would recognize one word when she saw it, then two. Then five. Then she could put together sentences. Then she started figuring out the whole “sound it out” business.

Yesterday afternoon, I walked through the living room and paused. Joy was curled up on the couch with “Mr. Putter and Tabby Pour the Tea,” which we had borrowed from the library last week and hadn’t had a chance to read together yet, and she was reading it. Out loud. By herself. Sounding out the words she didn’t know. Getting some of them wrong, but more of them right. Going back to re-read a sentence that she hadn’t added the proper emphasis to before. Immersed in her own world.

I very nearly burst into tears.

She finished that and picked up “Sam and the Firefly,” another library book, and read through that. Then she read through “Go Dog. Go!” She had to take a bathroom break partway through that one, and I sat in Carl’s study and listened as she read all the books we keep in there for the littles to look at while they use the potty (leftover habit from the days they were potty-training).

I quite honestly had a lump in my throat the rest of the evening. Reading has shaped my life, my very nature, for as long as I can remember. It has been one of the deepest desires of my heart that my children share the same passion and love for the written word as I have. Seeing this love take root in Joy is one of the most rewarding moments in parenthood I’ve had thus far.

She’s reading. My kid is reading.

It still blows my mind.

Now I just have to keep from going absolutely crazy on Amazon and buying every easy reader I can find. I just want to shower her with ALL THE BOOKS IN THE WORLD, but that’s what libraries are for, and I don’t want to deprive her of one of my other deep-set joys, which is finding those amazing books at the library, and the thrill of bringing them home to read.

Taken first thing this morning after she came downstairs. Please ignore the mound of clean laundry next to her. It was a long weekend.

I have a reader. A real live reader. Somebody pinch me!

By the way, the scene up top would never really happen. Joy hates talking to strange adults. I can’t really blame her; I’m not crazy about it either.

characters, favorites, heroines, Life Talk, TV, Watch

Television Heroines

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As promised, the companion post to my piece on favorite tv heroes. This time, it’s all about the ladies! Without further ado, I present my top five favorite tv heroines.

Lorelai Gilmore, Gilmore Girls: Oddly enough, I never really liked Rory on this show. You’d think I would, right? Quiet, bookish, ambitions of writing … yet I always felt like she came across as this spoiled, pampered little princess who assumed everything would go her way and couldn’t handle it when life got a bit difficult. Lorelai, on the other hand, is the kind of mom I can only dream about being. She’s fun and loving and kind and savvy and present (not just physically, but wholly); she’s not perfect but she never quits trying; she has a life of her own but still always puts her kid first. And she has great hair and a razor-sharp wit. Yep, pretty awesome.

tumblr_lq3l2bHBfI1ql0gbyo2_250.jpg
 
Zoe Washburne, Firefly: I love Zoe. I want to be Zoe when I grow up. She is a rarity in television, an action heroine who is also happily married. Her combination of deadly combat skills, fierce loyalty, dry wit, and loving fidelity is amazing. Plus she gets awesome one-liners. My mom likes River the best, and I know a lot of people really love Kaylee (and don’t get me wrong, I like both of them, too – I think Kaylee would make a terrific best friend), but for me, it’s all about Zoe. She’s strong and still human, and that’s hard to find in any kind of heroine these days, television or literary; most are either all strength and no human emotions, or all vulnerability and weakness with a side helping of unrealistic warrior skills. Not Zoe. I also really love the fact that she’s a sci-fi action heroine who does not spend the entirety of the show running around half-dressed. And she’s a really, really good shot.
 
Zoe_Washburne_firefly_with_gun_sm.jpg
Captain Kathryn Janeway, Star Trek: Voyager: I know I complained in my heroes post about the fact that Voyager focused almost solely on Captain Janeway … but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s still a fantastic character. A female starship captain who never exhibits any signs of belligerence or insecurity toward the men under her command, or the other officers in Starfleet; a leader thrown with a totally unconventional crew across the galaxy, trying to get them home without ever going against her principles; a captain trying to maintain protocol with the crew while still providing them with the stability and comfort they need; an explorer faced with unprecedented challenges … as long as she had her coffee, Janeway took everything in her stride and faced it with humor and dignity.
 
kjcoffee2.jpg
 
Detective Kate Beckett, Castle: I only recently started watching Castle, and so far have only made it through Season 1. Season 2 should be coming to me through inter-library loan any day now. (edit: just picked it up from the library. can’t wait to start watching.) So I’m not sure how Beckett’s character developed in later seasons, but based on Season 1, I think she’s fabulous. She’s tough but compassionate, which I love in any character, male or female. She doesn’t take any nonsense from anyone. I love watching her get the best of Castle in any of their exchanges, and the developing friendship (which I know from things I’ve read turns to romance later, but is really great as a friendship, too) between them is so much fun to watch.
 
 
Donna Noble, Doctor Who: This one is kind of cheating. Donna’s not technically one of the stars of this show, more of a supporting character (and that only for one season, weep, weep) … but I love her so much that I don’t care. I really liked Rose; I would have liked Martha if she hadn’t let her inferiority complex turn her into such a drip; I loved Sarah Jane in the one episode of the new series (no, I haven’t watched any of the classic series, and Netflix doesn’t have The Sarah Jane Adventures, so I need to start borrowing those from the library too before I can know more about her); but Donna has turned out to be my favorite so far (I’m in the middle of Series 4). She’s the perfect foil for the Doctor, in her humor and compassion and strength. She’s not in love with him (thank goodness!) but their friendship is so, so strong, and they both grow and gain so much from the other. I even love her abrasiveness, the fact that she doesn’t take any crap from anyone. Her relationship with her grandfather is just icing on the cake. I know how her story arc ends (yes, I read spoilers, especially when I’m watching old seasons of a show), and I’m finding myself really reluctant to finish watching Series 4, because I don’t want to leave her behind. Well, I don’t really want to say goodbye to the Tenth Doctor, either, if I’m being perfectly honest.
 
donna2.jpg

 
It seems that my favorite female characters share the same traits I admire most in male characters – strength blended with compassion, the ability to stand up for themselves and for others, loyalty, a ready wit, and a thorough love for adventure. Being ready and willing to take out the bad guy doesn’t hurt, either.
Books, children, fantasy, writing

To Parent or Not

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It’s one of the most common topic of discussion for YA and MG fantasy – what to do about the parents?

The orphaned hero is become so cliched that people do tend to roll their eyes automatically when they see it, but writers seem to be left with little choice – either create some elaborate scheme to have the parents out of the picture, or just kill them off, because if the parents are around, much of the tension for the young protagonist is removed.

Oddly enough, I’m not a huge fan of that whole “remove the parents” idea, though. I know that it’s mostly because I am a parent now. But it’s also because while it makes it trickier for the protagonist to be the one driving the story, it also adds another level of tension – how does one go about having magical adventures when one’s mother is right there reminding one to keep safe and be smart? And what does a mother (or father) do when adventure finds one’s child – go with the natural instinct to protect one’s kid, or stay in the background and allow the kid to learn through experience?

These are the sorts of themes I really do enjoy seeing played out in books.

DSC_0009Edward Eager and E. Nesbit both handle parental presence well in their books. Usually, the parents are completely unaware of magic, and that unawareness becomes in itself another obstacle – the mother in Half Magic thinks she’s going mad because of all the magic she’s witnessing; Anthea has to go to extreme measures to hide from her mother that the magic carpet took the baby away in The Phoenix and the Carpet; Granny gets her hands on the magic book in Seven-Day Magic and leads the children on a madcap adventure they can’t escape until they get the book back, because she thinks she’s just dreaming … and so on and so forth. My favorite Eager parents, though, are Martha and Katharine, both of whom had magical adventures when they were children, and aren’t afraid to set their children straight when it comes to magic. And in The Time Garden, when the children travel back in time and end up in one of their parents’ magical adventures, and have to rescue them, it gets thoroughly delightful (side note: I wonder at what point in time did Martha, Katharine, Jane and Mark look at each other and realize, “OH! Those strange children from our desert island adventure that time – those were OUR KIDS”?) and mayhem-y.

I read a duology recently where the daughter was kidnapped to a magical realm to help free her father from a spell there, and the mother went back voluntarily to rescue the daughter. I thought the concept was fabulous, except in execution, the mother spent most of her time as a prisoner in the palace, dithering about what was best to do, while the daughter escaped her kidnappers and had wild piratical adventures while on her way to rescue her father. It was a bit of a disappointment, because I really, really wanted to see a YA book that had an equally strong mother and daughter – in the same place but separated, both having awesome adventures.

I guess maybe someday I’ll just have to write that story myself.

What are some good example you can think of for parental inclusion in YA or MG adventures? Do you prefer to read stories where the children have to work with or around the parents, or where the parents just aren’t there at all? Would you want to read a story that features both kids AND adults being awesome?

Life Talk, philosophy

Come Down, Lady, Come Down!

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I never used to have weird dreams. Nightmares, yes, all the time when I was a kid and teenager, but never fun, weird, harmless dreams. That changed when I got pregnant. I had the most bizarre dreams almost every single night. I thought the dreams would stop when the pregnancy hormones finally left my system, but they haven’t really. I don’t get them every night any more, and they usually aren’t quite as strange as the ones I had during my pregnancies, but they still come with great frequency, and they are … odd. Usually fun, too, though sometimes not so much.

Last night I started out with an ordinary weird dream – hanging out in PA with some of our friends from back there, and Todd Eldredge, and all laughing and chatting and waiting for the wrecking ball to swing by and destroy the house down the street, and Todd found out and was picking on me for fangirl-ishly stalking him over the years (for the record, in real life, I’ve only seen him and asked him for a picture ONCE, and that was at the ’98 Worlds, and I was asking LOTS of the skaters for their pictures), and Colin Firth was singing this in the background.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQW_bovs40s?rel=0]

(Just Colin and the guitar, though, No Rupert Everett and the piano, which makes me sad.)

Then the dream switched the that age-old stand-by: I had emerged from a long series of dark tunnels (which in real life would send me into a claustrophobic coma, but didn’t seem to faze me in my dream) and needed to get through a ballroom filled with people waiting for a wedding to start in order to reach the hotel lobby and complete my secret mission. And I was only in my underwear.

No, really. I had that stereotypical dream of being at a wedding in my underwear. I didn’t even have that dream when I was stressed out from planning my own wedding; I don’t know why I would have it now!

The really interesting thing is, though, is that I was not embarrassed or ashamed. I don’t remember the reason I was in my underwear, but whatever it was, it wasn’t my fault, and so I stood straight and tall and simply walked through that ballroom without even blushing. I got to the end, and everyone was whispering and shocked, and I spun around and announced “If it bothers you all so much, then maybe one of you could lend me a shawl or something?”

And someone did, so I wrapped myself in that and went to the lobby, delivered my message, was given some clothes by one of the guys there, said hi to Todd (who apparently felt the need to pop back into my dream just for a brief moment, thankfully after I had pulled on the jeans and black t-shirt), and then left to go help my dad judge swimming trials for the Olympics.

I enjoyed the entire dream, but I’m still pondering over me not being at all bothered by my lack of clothing in front of well-dressed strangers. I’m wondering if it indicates an increase in self-confidence? The fact that after two kids my sense of modesty has completely altered (hey, you try having kids wandering in and out of the bathroom while you’re on the toilet and not have your sense of modesty shift)? Maybe that I’m willing to be more honest in my writing and not worry so much about people misjudging me as I did when I was younger?

Or just the result of that glass of red wine I had with dinner?

Books, children

Sharing the Secrets of the Garden

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I recently started reading The Secret Garden aloud to Joy (and Grace, when she sits still long enough to hear). We finished up with Betsy-Tacy and were wondering what chapter book to start on next when I saw my beautiful green-and-pink copy on my shelves, and knew that was the one.

http://contentinacottage.blogspot.com/2010/07/tasha-tudor-estate-family-feud-still-in.html


The Secret Garden is one of those books that shaped my childhood. Books in general shaped my childhood, really. But some stand out more than others. The Narnia books … The Hobbit … Half Magic … The Four-Story Mistake and Thimble Summer and the Gone-Away books … The Wizard of Oz … the Betsy-Tacy books … the Anne and Emily and Story Girl books … Dad’s old Lone Ranger books (don’t judge!) … and Frances Hodgson Burnett’s tales about two very different girls, Sara Crewe and Mary Lennox.
I was a little torn, in fact, between reading The Secret Garden or A Little Princess, but Sara’s tale of cold, gloomy, fog-ridden London always seems more fit for winter, to me, while Mary and Dickon and Colin all coming to life with the garden is so very much a spring tale. And seeing as how we started our first garden this spring, I thought the littles would enjoy it best right now. We’ll tackle A Little Princess this winter.
It’s not an easy tale to read aloud – the Yorkshire accents are tricky to pull off without sounding ridiculous – and much of the vocabulary is far beyond my four-year-old, but she is still riveted every time we read. We’re only four chapters in (I can’t get through more than two chapters at a time before my voice gives out), but I honestly think she would sit through the entire thing at once if I could do it. Right now she is as eagerly anticipating Dickon’s first appearance as Mary is, and I am loving seeing this world again through her eyes – the magic of the moor, and the manor with a hundred locked doors, and a pert maid who speaks broad Yorkshire when surprised, and a hunchback, and a robin, and of course, the locked-up garden with rose trees inside. It’s captured her imagination just like it did mine when I was a kid, and I suspect she is already imagining herself friends with Mary – just as I did.
Burnett bears much of the responsibility for my love affair with England. CS Lewis shares that responsibility, as do E Nesbit, Susan Cooper, Tolkien, … oh okay, there are a LOT of authors responsible for turning me into the anglophile I am today. But Burnett is right up there. When I think of Yorkshire I do not first think of Downton Abbey and the misadventures of the Crawley sisters; I think of Mary Lennox and Dickon and a walled-in garden (as a young woman, by the way, Mary would wallop some sense into those sisters – she wouldn’t stand for Lady Mary’s dramatics for one second, and Colin and Lady Edith would probably fall in love only to have both Lord Grantham and Mr Craven disapprove, and Sybil would try to fall in love with Dickon, but of course everyone KNOWS he and Mary are meant to be together, and no I haven’t been tempted to write a crossover fanfic about this, why do you ask? Ahem). I know, in my head, that England is not at all like Burnett wrote it, but when I close my eyes and conjure up images of it in my head, I see a moor covered in heather, and children playing with wild animals in brilliantly-colored gardens, and a foggy London with hansom cabs. The England of my heart is peopled with Dickons and Marys and Colins, secret gardens and gloomy mansions, a wide-spread moor and wise country mothers; with Saras and Beckys and Large Families and even Miss Minchins and Miss Amelias, boarding schools and attic bedrooms.
(When I close my eyes and think of Wales I see Will Stanton and Bran and Merriman, seven riders and a grey mountain and an afanc – but that’s a different post.)
I’m not sure much in life brings me more joy than being able to introduce my children to the books that I have loved so well my entire life, to think that they will be making friends with the same timeless characters that have been my friends since I was small, to see their eyes light up with the same joy I feel every time they see the familiar dust-jacket of certain books. I can think of no better childhood than one spent roaming the moor with Mary and Dickon (yes, and Colin too, even though I never liked him – I would have been much happier if the book had just been about Mary and Dickon the whole time, although I did love it when Mary so magnificently put him in his place during that one tantrum) and Dickon’s creatures.

Just a few more years, and we can start reading about Narnia and Middle-Earth. I really can’t wait for that. Every child should be able to go adventuring with Lucy and Bilbo!

characters, heroes, Life Talk, TV, Watch

Television Heroes

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I’ve done a list of my favorite literary heroes, but never of favorite tv heroes. Silly me! Lately I’ve been looking at the rather disparate list of characters I love on tv, and trying to figure out what it is about them that draws me – whether there is one common theme, or if I like each for completely different reasons. So then, naturally, I decided to blog about it.

Here, then, is my list of top five television heroes, with one thrown in as a bonus at the end.

Chakotay (Star Trek: Voyager):  Carl and I recently started re-watching the Voyager series (re-watching for me, first time for him – true love!), and I was astounded to discover that it was nowhere near as awesome as I remembered from when I was watching it as a teenager. I mean, the basis is awesome, and the acting is brilliant, but the writing, oh the writing. It’s pretty much “The Janeway Show,” and none of the other characters really get much development until Seven-of-Nine shows up. Then it’s the “Janeway and Seven Show.” And that sucks, because really, it could have been so amazing. And Chakotay was one of the most amazing characters on it. A basically kind, gentle man with enormous compassion and such strong ethics, forced by his principles into a life of violence. So much conflict in him, and clashing loyalties, and his rarely-seen but wickedly delightful sense of humor … yeah, even after all these years, and even with the major issues I now see with Voyager, Chakotay is still one of my all time favorite television heroes.

http://www.startrek-voyager.nl/EN/chakotay.html
Leroy Jethro Gibbs (NCIS): Ah, Gibbs. I knew I loved him from the moment I heard his preferred method of dealing with politicians was to shoot them (actually, that’s his preferred method of dealing with most people, come to think of it). Taciturn, rude, terrible people skills … Gibbs still manages to win the hearts and loyalty of those who work with him. Probably because along with all those negative traits, he’s also fiercely loyal to his people, protective, deeply loving, and almost always right. The NCIS team really is like one big family, and Gibbs is unquestionably the father-figure to them all (well, aside from Ducky, who is most definitely the eccentric great-uncle of the clan). If I were ever in mortal danger, it’s Special Agent Gibbs I’d want protecting me.
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/leroy-gibbs?before=1322093987
Malcolm Reynolds (Firefly): I hate to admit that I was kind of on the fence regarding Mal at first. It wasn’t until the end of the episode “Safe” that I made up my mind on him. When Simon was asking him why Mal came back for Simon and River, Mal says “You’re my crew.” “Yeah, but you don’t even like me,” Simon pointed out. “You’re my crew,” Mal said blankly. “Why are we still talking about this?” And that’s when I fell irrevocably in love (not really, Carl). I love Mal’s stubborn loyalty, the fact that he will do anything at all to protect his people, whether he likes them or not. The fact that he never, ever gives up, even when he is utterly beaten just adds to his endearing qualities. As someone whose stubbornness goes far beyond reasonable limits (be quiet, Carl), I like seeing that portrayed as a good quality in fictional characters.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malcolm_Reynolds
Carson Beckett (Stargate: Atlantis): It is entirely possible that much of my fondness for Carson is influenced by his adorable Scottish accent, along with his habit of calling people “son” or “love” or even “wee man” (that last one delivered with killing sarcasm). Mostly why I like him, though, is for his Everyman qualities. In a company made up of scientists, military persons, and administrators, Carson is the one normal guy (though a perfectly brilliant MD in his own right), the one who genuinely cares for everyone, who treats each person as an important individual, who is never too busy with his own tasks to take the time out for others. He’s perfectly sweet, and did I mention the Scottish accent?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carson_Beckett
The Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who): The Ninth Doctor was my first introduction to the show. I’m still tremendously fond of him, but oh, the Tenth Doctor. That unique blend of remarkable kindness and ruthlessness, compassion and cold-bloodedness … not to mention his delightful sense of humor, his zest for life. His occasional rudeness, usually followed by sheepishness at having been rude adds to his charm. And his loneliness just breaks my heart. Weep, weep! If Gibbs is the person I most want to have my back if I’m in danger, the Tenth Doctor is the one I think would be the most fun to have around when I’m in peril. Even if he caused much of that peril to begin with.
http://rockingthetime-spacecontinuum.blogspot.com/2011/01/tenth-doctor-1st-january-2011-one-year.html
And the promised bonus: Sherlock Holmes, my dream husband.

I expected to like Watson best in the latest BBC adaptation of Sherlock. On the surface, I do like him best. Sherlock is an egotistical maniac, cold-hearted and quite thoroughly amoral, self-described as a “high-functioning sociopath.”

And yet … it was Sherlock that I dreamed was my husband (literally – I dreamed Carl and Sherlock were the same person). It was quite a friendly dream, actually – Sherlock/Carl, John Watson and myself, solving a mystery together, the two of them totally in character, nothing racy or anything I’d be embarrassed to have my mother read on this blog. Sherlock/Carl and I just happened to be quite happily married, as well. And somehow, every time I watch the show, I find myself more drawn to him. No idea why. I’ve quit trying to analyze that one.

“John, stop chattering on this phone – the game’s afoot!”

So, in looking over this list, describing the characters, I am indeed seeing a pattern. Ruthlessness when necessary, compassion and kindness, fierce loyalty and protectiveness toward “their” people, and a wry sense of humor. Not exactly the dashing, noble hero of traditional fiction, nor even the typical anti-hero such as Han Solo or Jack Sparrow … but it works for me. And also explains a lot of the hero-characters I find myself writing!

Who are some of your favorite tv heroes, and why?

Disclaimer: I really don’t watch a whole lot of tv. So I’m sure there are some fabulous characters out there that I just haven’t discovered. If I left your favorites off, it’s not necessarily because I don’t like them! 


Disclaimer #2: I know there aren’t any female characters on here. I’m going to do a post later on with favorite tv female characters. I’m not sure why I separated them, except that maybe that helps me squeeze two posts out of this topic instead of one? Or maybe that it’s so much harder to find strong female leads on tv (which is a post in and of itself, but not one that I think I’m fit to tackle), so it’s going to take me a bit longer to figure out five that I really love as much as I love the five mentioned here. But I’ll get there eventually!

families, Life Talk

Making Bread

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I often say that there is only one thing that comes naturally to me (aside from sleeping), and that is writing. Everything else that I attempt in my life I have to work hard at if I want to gain any kind of accomplishment at/with it. Not that I don’t work hard with writing, too, but it is an instinctive kind of hard work – it flows pretty naturally from me.

I have learned in the last few years, however, that the above statement isn’t entirely accurate. Cooking and baking is something else that is fairly natural for me. Again, I have to work at it – I’m a much better cook now than I was seven and a half years ago, just ask my husband – but there is an instinct underneath the work that helps it smoothly along. In fact, most of my cooking failures in the last few years have come from going against my instinct to follow the recipe more exactly. Much of what I’ve learned in the last almost-decade has been to trust my gut when it comes to cooking, not to second-guess myself and doubt myself so much. I am by nature a pretty reserved and cautious person, especially when it comes to my own abilities, so it’s been a long, slow process to come to a place of trusting myself when it comes to anything besides writing!

I love trying new recipes, changing things and adapting them, making them my own. I love discovering food blogs and seeing how the preparation of creation of food entwines in others’ daily lives. Most of all, I love making bread.

Yeast after it has proofed. Watching this process never ceases to amaze me.

My mother made bread. My grandmother made bread. One of my uncles even wrote a song about my grandmother’s bread. Bread-making is one of those things that connects me back to past generations. I don’t know that I’ll ever get over missing my grandmother, but every time I knead a batch of bread dough, I remember her as she was when I was a kid, making bread and setting aside the small loaves as “breadies” just for the kids.

All kneaded, ready for the first rising.

My breadie pans, four little loaves ready for the oven.

We eat homemade bread almost exclusively, except for those weeks when I’m too tired or too busy to make it. It’s not a quick process, certainly, not with two risings at the very least. It’s not for the faint of heart, with the muscles and patience required for kneading the dough. But the rewards are so worth it.

Fresh out of the oven, ready for immediate nomming.

The recipe for the pictured batch of bread (which included two full-size loaves as well as the breadies) is here; the only change I made was to replace two cups of bread flour with two cups of wheat, just because I prefer a greater wheat-to-white ratio. I’ve also, in the past, replaced 1/3 c. of honey with an equal amount of maple syrup, but we’re running low on syrup right now and I don’t want to run out before we make it to a sugarhouse, so I did all honey this time. It makes the most delicious and soft bread ever; a household favorite!

Books, children, figure skating, influences

Lessons From a Pig

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picture from kristiyamaguchi.com

When I first heard that one of my long-time heroes, Kristi Yamaguchi, was writing a picture book, I was both excited and nervous. Excited because for one thing, there aren’t enough books out there for kids that feature figure skating. Ballet, yes. Skating, no. Also excited because it was Kristi! I was nervous, though, because excellence in one area doesn’t always translate to excellence in another. Not all figure skaters make great writers, and as a writer myself, I knew I would be hyper-critical.
I shouldn’t have worried. Dream Big, Little Pig is a fantastic book! Instead of what I would arrogantly call typical inspirational tripe, gallant little Poppy taught an important lesson. You aren’t going to magically be good at something and have everything handed to you on a silver platter just because you dreamed it – but if you love something, you should work hard and pursue it despite what other people say, and in that very pursuit there will be satisfaction. Awesome. My sister bought the book for my Joy when Joy just started skating, and I loved being able to read to her about how Poppy kept getting up every time she fell, and how eventually, she started falling less.
So when we heard that Kristi was writing a sequel titled It’s a Big World, Little Pig, we were thrilled. And rightly so, because the sequel is just as charming as the first book. Aunt Lis and Uncle David bought this one for Joy to help celebrate her completion of her first season of skating lessons, and again, it is a fun story (with great illustrations) with an non-sterotypical message behind it. Poppy gets to go to a big international competition, and she’s nervous, but soon discovers that all the competitors, despite being different animals from different countries, participating in different sports, they “all smile in the same language.” I half-listened as Carl read it to Joy and Grace the first time, and I asked when he finished “But did Poppy win?” All three rolled their eyes at me. “It doesn’t say,” Carl said. “That is not the point.”
Oh. Oops.
Not every athlete or actor can turn to writing stories, especially stories for kids, well, but Kristi certainly does. She inspires me to look at my own stories, and make sure I’m not falling into the trap of writing expected tropes, but instead pursue messages I would want my own girls to believe.
And to be perfectly honest, Poppy is a good inspiration to me, too – to not expect magical success, or to expect success to look like wild popularity or medals, but to work hard at what I love, just because I love it.
My big dreamer at her very first ice show (she’s the one in front)


Disclaimer: I am not being compensated in any way for this review, and the opinions therein are solely my own. And my children’s, so far as they have communicated them to me. 🙂
goals, Life Talk

Our First Garden

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Growing up, both Carl and I moaned and whined about helping out in our family’s respective vegetable gardens (especially picking beans, O Woe and Misery!). So naturally, in the last few years, we’ve been wanting to inflict – I mean, introduce our girls to what it’s like to grow at least a portion of one’s food. We weren’t able to do it when we were living at our old place, due to having no space at all to ourselves outdoors, but here in this house, we have loads of yard, front and back. Poor soil quality, though, so we’re doing container gardens instead of planting right in the ground.

I was all for buying seedling already started, but Carl pulled for starting right from seeds, and in thinking about how much more the girls will learn when they get to see the entire process from start to finish (in the grand old homeschool tradition, we are calling this “science class” and we’ll be studying about growing things right along with watching our seeds), I capitulated.

We planted the seeds in our little black plastic starter containers on Sunday, and we have been working ever since at keeping the littles from pulling off the lid to poke and prod, checking to see if their seeds have come up yet. We planted peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, peas, carrots, marigolds, lavender, and impatiens (lavender for Grace, who wanted “pupple fwowers,” and impatiens for Joy who wanted pink flowers, and marigolds to help ward off mosquitoes), and we are all, even Carl, getting excited about watching them grow, seeing which crops work the best, and enjoying the fruit of our labors this summer.

children, figure skating, goals, Life Talk

Lessons

elouisebates
WARNING: This post has nothing to do with writing. It is, in fact, mostly bragging on my kid. Because along with being a writer, I’m a MOM, and occasional bragging on my kid goes with the territory.

These two pictures were taken the first time Joy was on the ice. She made either me or my sister carry her the ENTIRE time. Granted, she was a tiny three-year-old at the time, but still, we were SORE the next morning. She has loved watching ice skating with me ever since she was a little baby, but the reality of stepping on the ice scared her to death.
This was her third time on the ice. She didn’t even want to hold my hand by then! She also insisted I show her how to bunny hop. No fear at all, and even the few times she fell, she laughed.
photo by lis hurlbut
First time on single-bladed skates, showing her sister how it’s done.
And THIS is from her first day of Snowplow Sam (that’s the lowest level of skating classes from the United States Figure Skating Association, by the way) in January.

And THIS is last Sunday, when she brought home a certificate stating that she’d passed all of Snowplow Sam, and is ready to start Basic 1 in the fall!
Not bad, for a little over a year. Her first-ever skating show is this Sunday, and my parents, Carl’s mom, my sister and brother-in-law, and possibly Carl’s sister are all coming out to watch and cheer her on. It’s not just about the skating, it’s about finding something she loves, overcoming her fears about it, and excelling at it.
Hmm, maybe there really IS something in here applicable to writing after all …
Hey, have you entered the giveaway yet? If not, go, enter! What are you waiting for?