Just, you know, basically having it ALL for these 5 seconds

Remember that one time when we had a good get-it-all-out session about women and finances and SAHMs and basically how we all have nightmares involving us living in a ditch somewhere because we chose to breed? Yeah, that was awesome. (And, seriously, so were the comments and the podcast that inspired the discussion, so if you haven't checked this out yet, go get ye there.)

Anyway. The point of all of that was me saying that I was trying to get back into part-time work. And now I'm here to report that it happened! My local liberry, where I used to work back in 2007-2008, got a new director in the last little while. And when I gave him my resume and told him I'd be happy to come in and work on just about anything he might need, he actually read the thing and took me seriously, unlike perhaps some other people before him who completely shut me down in a not-very-nice way and yes I'm over it no-I'm-not.

Basically I work part time (less than 20 hours a week, some at the library and some at home) on special projects, like summer reading stuff, advertising, social media, and whatever else they could use an extra person to go spend time on. And it's the best, because I mostly get to do cool stuff rather than the stuff where I have to explain to the eleventy millionth person that the reason their email is on fire is because it's a yahoo account and so I'm sorry but they were pretty much asking for it.

Am now the Facebook Guru, which is why we occasionally have what I like to call Man Candy Friday where I post stuff like this:

Aw yeah.

It just feels so good to be back in a library, it feels so good to be involved and valued and paid, and it feels so good to fill out countless medical forms and be able to list an employers's name but not the phone number because who even remembers junk like that off the top of their head? (Note: It is not actually enjoyable to fill out countless forms, but filling out the employer part and leaving the phone number empty is a highlight.)

I couldn't do this without my sister and my sister-in-law, who between them have watched The Tiny Dark Lord about 2 mornings a week for the last couple of months so I could go get my Employment Validation Fix. Without them, this would have absolutely not have been possible in the small window I have before I'm house-bound with a newborn again. We just had our big Summer Reading Program opening party, and because my sister-in-law offered to watch TDL so I could work all day and because she brought him to the party, he entered and WON a raffle drawing for two free jet-ski rentals at Bear Lake. So . . . yeah. I owe her a lot. Like probably one of the jet skis, which is what she suggested.

And now it's time to take a break from Summer Reading Program planning and actually do some summer reading. GH has had a crazy week at work with some 14-hour days, so we are both ready to relax a bit and have some summer fun. We are heading south tomorrow for Salt Lake City to take TDL to Hogle Zoo, to see some friends, and to make a Costco run (yay, Costco!!!). Then we'll spend a few days up Ogden Canyon at this place with GH's family, hanging out and swimming and eating (hauling out my tent of a maternity bathing suit and a vat of SPF 70 now) and watching the little kiddie cousins play together and did I mention eating? I'm stocking up on Playaways and knitting for the down time I'm hoping to get (even if it's only in the car).

Happy Weekend, everybody!

I do miss a few things

GH remarked lately that there is really nothing he misses about living in Utah County American Fork. I can almost agree, but there are a few things that I wish I could have brought up with me.

The two biggest ones are Costco and Target. I'm at the mercy of Sam's Club and Wal-Mart here, which is absolutely not the same thing at all. At Sam's you don't feel the Spirit, and at Wal-Mart you just want to kill yourself. So yes. I miss those two things. And Sunflower Farmer's Market. I miss that place, and there is nothing like it in the valley, so I need to get a begging campaign going. What if I need to buy hippie stuff or watch people cheat at strawberries, huh?

The other thing I miss is being able to run errands on foot. For the last four years, both in Salt Lake County and in Utah County, I lived within walking distance of the church, a grocery store and a library (not that I went to my UT County library unless I just wanted to be surrounded by books from the 70s and eighty million signs telling me to turn my cell phone off). In my last apartment, I also had a post office a few blocks away. The first time I ever took the newborn Dark Lord on a walk was to go drop off a package, and as I navigated his stroller through the January cold and slush I kept repeating, "It's okay, we're okay, we're doing fine, it's okay," over and over again because I was just sure that maybe the baby was going to freeze and die during those 20 minutes or maybe I would have a seizure and tip the stroller over and he would spill out and then freeze and die or maybe a truck was going to hit us and kill us both. (Ah . . . postpartum anxiety and terror . . . I don't miss you at all.) I really liked being able to walk to the grocery store, the library, the post office. I liked that in my last little city there were several bell towers and I could hear everything from hymns to show tunes to Beatles numbers when I stepped outside.

So. Even though I have traded up in absolutely every way, I do miss the walking. I maybe could walk to church or the post office here, but not if I wanted to get anything else done that day. Plus, it's hot outside. And as soon as it stops being hot, it's going to be really, really cold. In addition, as I have mentioned before (and then again) these aren't the most pedestrian-and-or-bike-friendly streets. There usually are no sidewalks, so you're pushing strollers in the gravel on the shoulder, hoping no tractors or runaway cows hit you.

On the plus side, the Dark Lord's grandma and great-grandma are both a short walk away, and just a little bit farther is the library--the same library, in fact, that featured in all my 2007-2008 adventures. A lot has changed since I left, but some of my favorite coworkers are still there and it's great to go in every week and chat with them and leave the Dark Lord unattended in the storytime pit. The weird part is using the library as a civilian. I . . . don't love that feeling. As soon as something comes up, I hope I can rectify the situation and get myself back into some kind of active library duty. I'll even volunteer if I have to--that's how badly I need to be on the other side of the check-out counter. (This is the same counter, by the way, that has signs asking people not to use it as a perch for their small children while checking out and which I sometimes enforced. Looking back, I'm amazed that no one ever told me to go &^%$ myself because I'm pretty sure that's what I would say now to anyone who tells me to put the DL down on the floor so that he can run out of the building and into traffic which is exactly what he will do if given any freedom whatsoever. The things first-hand experience teaches you . . . )

Anyway, here are some pictures from Tuesday's walk to the library & back, where TDL was plied with compliments and summer reading prizes. Is anybody else doing summer reading this year (officially or, just, you know, on your own?)

Eye contact is free, people

photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Yesterday I took The Tiny Dark Lord to a local library, mostly because he was getting bored and cabin-feverish after nearly a week of being stuck at home with lame me. The holidays spoiled him, what with all the other kids and adults and toys and dogs and nonstop excitement.

This is the first time I've ventured into this particular library in months and months. Because I have weekly access to other libraries with bigger collections through work, it's easier for me to get the things I need through them. So I don't go for books. TDL is too young for the story times offered at our local library, and even if he weren't I wouldn't take him anyway because you have to pay to attend. I was completely staggered when I learned this. It's a nominal amount, used for craft materials, but I still say that's creating a barrier to early childhood literacy. Reading stories and singing with kids doesn't cost anything. They can freaking color at home.

Now, I get that it's extremely difficult being a small library with a limited budget, limited collection, and limited space. I worked in one. We couldn't help the funding/space/collection limitations, but we still provided quality service and created a space where the community felt welcome. Something about the vibe of this library just does not do that for me. Instead I get a decidedly "I am busy with my solitaire game do not bother me or make noise" feeling. But I did get a good sense of what is really important to them: there were 25 printed signs in the adult section, letting me know that cell phone use was not acceptable. I'm not kidding, I went around and counted.

The hard thing is, it takes a lot of work to change a vibe. It's this intangible thing that isn't a line item in your budget but it makes a huge difference in how your organization is perceived. How exactly do you put your finger on and then explain to staff members what needs to change? "Stop being yourself?" Do you just fire people because they aren't smiley enough? I have been there. It's not fun. I do think that taking down about 20 of those signs would be a start, though.

Now that he is walking and since it's still cold outside (except for yesterday, holy cow it was in the 50s), I will probably start taking TDL back more often because there is more room for him to roam around than the 18 square feet of grody shag living room carpet currently available to him. Plus he needs to spend more time in libraries so he knows that they are true. Maybe my heart will soften about this particular one, or I will see that I am wrong in my current assessment. Maybe.

But, back to you. Anybody want to dish on the things your library does really well (or maybe not so much)?

Because I'm just too big for one blog

Pssst. You can find me today over at Today's Mama, dishing on libraries an' stuff.

Hate to break it to you

A couple of posts back I wrote about impossible assignments that kids kept bringing into the library and how difficult it can be helping them find the required materials.

In the comments, Heidi made this very accurate observation, followed by my response to her.

Heidi said...

There are an unfortunate number of out-of-touch teachers, but, to be fair, what the teacher assigns and what the child thinks she means aren't always the same thing.

12:36 AM

Nemesis said...

Heidi, you are absolutely true. What's even worse is when you have the PARENT coming in looking for what their KID says that their TEACHER said. It's like a game of Telephone. Sometimes we just can't get anywhere and I have to say, "You know what? If you could find the original assignment and bring it in that will probably really, really help."

This reminded me, though, of a dad who came in and walked up to the reference desk.

Me: What can I do for you?

Him: I'm looking for Julius Caesar.

Me: Oh. . . he died.

(Note: This is what happens when I do not flip my "think before speaking" switch. After he looked startled and I apologized, we got to work.)



Him: It's for my son.

Me: Does he need a biography about Julius Caesar? What's the assignment?

Him: Um . . . I don't know. It just says "Julius Caesar" on this piece of scratch paper he gave me.

Me: Do you know what class it's for?

Him: No, I don't.

Me: Huh. Well, the thing is, we have lots of biographies about him, and we have books with "Julius Ceasar" as the title, but I'd hate to send you home with the wrong thing if you're not sure what he needs.

Him: I think I'll call my son.

Me: Sounds good, I'll wait.

Turns out, the kid needed a copy of the play "Julius Caesar" by William Shakespeare for his English class. Which . . . yeah. Like we were ever going to guess that.

This is why I always, always feel bad for parents who come into the library looking for what their kids told them they need for their assignment. Especially when it's for something that is due tomorrow and the parents just barely found out about it. And I always, always want to tell them that their lazy kids should be coming in their own dang selves. But hey, I don't know their life. Maybe it's a lot less painless if they just do it themselves.

Because I am twelve

Yesterday during storytime I set out the craft supplies while my coworker did the storytelling. The craft was a coiled snake made from construction paper, with a tongue and googly eyes to glue on. Except my brain was running on fumes and I carefully set down one tongue and one googly eye for each snake.

Once the craft portion got started, a couple of parents alerted us to the "now with 50% less eyes" problem and I apologized and ran to get more googly eyes.

My coworker, to the children and parents: "Sorry about giving you the one-eyed snake!"

Me: Blink. Ummm . . .

While I went around distributing googly eyes, my sweet coworker repeated the phrase "one-eyed snake" several times and I was quite possibly dying. Tried to figure out if there was a way to signal or take her aside and explain why she might not want to use that particular phrase, but it seemed like that just might make it worse. Also it would make me look like a dirty-bird. Which, as we now know, I am.

Except come on! You all thought it, right???

(image of a similar project from Crafts~N~Things)

Just a little something to think about before the school year starts

(Note: I just took the plunge and joined the rabbit-hole that is Pinterest. As a result, I can clean out my "Drafts" folder in gmail, which is where I kept things like links to tutorials and recipes and stuff I wanted to hang on to. As it turns out, I also kept a few blog entry drafts in there. This one was started nearly a year ago during my full-time-librarianing days.)

First, let me say how much I respect teachers. Second, let me say that I wish that some of you would pull your heads out just a tad.

Here are a few of the things I've had kids come in looking for in the last little while, at the direction of their teachers:

A 2nd-grader came in looking for a historical nonfiction book that is at least 100 pages long. News flash, teachers: Most nonfiction written on a 2nd grade level is 32 pages long. The stuff that's 100 pages or more is for, like, 6th graders.

A student came in with a list of acceptable books for a book report. Eight out of 10 were no longer in print. Way to keep current, there.

A 14-year-old girl came in with a list of books her teacher had given her as being especially good for "reluctant readers." Included on the list were A Clockwork Orange, The Color Purple, The Bluest Eye, and Charlotte's Web. For a 14-year-old. I have no words for that.

One girl and her mom came in looking for a book that, as far as I can tell, does not exist. Or, if it does, it hasn't been in print for a long, long time. And the teacher told ALL of the students in her class to go find a copy and read it. Too bad our library didn't come with a Room of Requirement.

Entire grades of children will come in looking for a subject that is so narrow and specific that there aren't enough books from the library on that subject to go around. ("I need an entire book about life as a lady-in-waiting in 15th-century England, please." Not even kidding.) And this is with a county-wide system made up of many branches, mind you. We're not riding around in the mountains delivering our books by camel.

They'll come in with very current topics and be told that they MUST find a book and cannot use electronic sources--even though that's the direction that publishers are moving and that's where the information is going to be. When I find them the perfect thing, the kids are terrified that their teacher will discount their source as being "some random Internet page" rather than an electronic version of a printed work.

Here's the thing, teachers:

I NEED YOU TO STOP SUCKING AT THIS. When you give these assignments, please check to be sure that your students will be able to find what you're asking. Please make sure that what you're asking ACTUALLY EXISTS. Please try to become aware of what's current, or what's still in print, rather than assigning your kids the same books you were assigning 25 years ago.

If you really want to be cool and you want to be sure that your book lists are going to work out, call your local children's or young adult librarian. They will, I can absolutely assure you, be thrilled to talk books with you. They can give you great lists for reluctant readers or any other category you need. They can buy more books if you give them a heads-up about what you are going to assign. If they know when the assignments are going to be handed out, they can create a display of all the available Civil War Young Adult Fiction Books of 100 Pages or More. (Note: I did this once I realized what every third kid was asking for, and it was awesome.)

Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.

Librarianing it again, some more!

Quick service announcement first:

LivingSocial's deal today is two Fandango movie tickets for $9. You have to buy the voucher today but you can get your Fandango passes anytime before June 6th. I just bought the deal so GH and I will be going to see Thor this spring for cheap. And yes, I'm sure you can guess whose idea Thor is. (Comic books + Natalie Portman = GH Nirvana.)




If anyone wants to get in on it, my shameless request is that you use this link so that I can get credit for referring you. I know. Vulgar.

But my actual post is about how I've started going back to work part time. It's only one morning and one evening a week, but it will bring in some much-appreciated cash so that I can support my habits. Like my Internet habit. And my food-eating habit. Other benefits:

1. I get access to a bigger library with an awesome DVD collection. My own local library, bless its heart, does not really have the budget for that. Also the staff refuse to look up from their computers at you and they won't let you look at your own dang blog on its public computers, but I will not be getting into that right now.

2. Adults! Oh my gosh there are adults here and I can speak with them! Sure, some of them smell like pee and are possibly insane, but that's okay. I will take that trade-off.

3. I officially have new things to talk about. I can talk about what happened at the library this week instead of sticking to my usual conversational gambits involving baby snot. Not that I won't keep bringing up the snot because I think we all know that's fascinating, fascinating stuff.

4. Books! I remember about the books! It's only been three months and I am already so out of the loop. I have no idea what is hip an' cool in Book Land. But no longer, friends!

No longer.

How you know it's time to quit working

A sweet elderly lady asked me about a book today, and after checking the catalog I told her it was checked in.

Then she asked me if I could find the book for her and I told her to go &*&^%$ (#$%. And then I shot her in the face.

Or, I just sort of stared at her for a millisecond while the following ran through my mind.

"Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME. No, no, that's great. Your legs work and everything but sure. I'LL get it. I will just heave myself out of this chair and stagger my way over there while He Who Must Not Be Named plays break-dancing bouncy castle on my cervix. I will just luuuuuumber over there, wincing all the way, taking out small children with my errant hips. Let me go get that book for you. LET ME."

Clearly, I have possibly reached some sort of expiration date. It's a good thing I only have a few days left. It will be safer for everyone.

When a question really isn't a question

You know you're in for it when a patron walks over and asks, "Can you tell me where you keep the movies that aren't rated R?"

What I should have said: "I wouldn't know, that's the only kind I watch." Or, perhaps, "Dude. I'm 9 months pregnant. My kid is punching me in the cervix as we speak. You really want to have a go at me? Because I'm not actually stable."

What I did say: "Well, there for sure aren't any R-rated movies in the children's area."

Patron: "Do I look like a child?"

Me: "Hmmmm." (Do not engage, do not engage . . . )

When it seemed safe, I did point out that our selection policy involves buying movies for the entire population, and not everyone is going to like everything.

Him: "Well, this is a very liberal area. That's why the R-rated stuff is so popular here."

Me: "Mmmm." (Not engaging, not engaging . . .)

Him: "Lots of Democrats in this area. They influence everything."

Me: (Engage!) "Well, that can't be entirely true, if the election was any indicator." (Sigh . . .)

That thought cheered him, though, and he let me show him a couple of TV series that he and his wife might like. And then we were fast friends.

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean, etc.

Today I wore a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of black (secretly yoga) pants to work. And then I led two different storytimes and quite possibly jogged the baby loose with all the antics I must do as part of said events. (Seriously, I'm pretty sure I know how labor is going to start, and it's going to involve "Shake My Sillies Out," a sudden gush of fluid, possibly a head or foot, and a room-full of permanently-damaged toddlers.)

I did receive several compliments on the outfit and accompanying bump, which I treasured and am writing down so that 10 or so weeks from now I can remember the good ol' days when people said things like, "Hey, you make pregnancy look cute!" instead of just staring at me with a horrified expression and running away lest I explode and get fluids and other matter on them like something out of Cloverfield.

One girl, upon hearing that I'm 7 months pregnant, exclaimed at how small I still appear to be and wondered if my doctors are concerned at all. Which is when I started wondering if maybe I look smaller today because the baby has, in fact, started shrinking--probably because I'm not eating enough or drinking enough water and the amniotic fluid is drying up and it's all my fault. I called GH up to discuss this with him.

Only it turns out he maybe already has too many worries going on to tackle the one about whether the baby is shrinking. On his list: Is the apartment we're looking to move into a former meth lab? How can we be sure? What about the smoker who lived there before? Could the smoke still be in the walls, lurking in wait to brain-damage our child? And why is there an exterminator parked in front of the complex? Are they spraying chemicals? What kind of chemicals? Is that how the child is going to end up brain damaged?

To reassure him, I called the potential future landlord who said that the apartment has not been a meth lab. To reassure myself, I ate a high-fiber open-faced chili dog sandwich. And put a peach cobbler in the oven. Never let it be said your mama doesn't love you, baby.

Conversation between me and a sweet lady at the library

Sweet lady: Okay, can I ask? Are you married?

Me: Yes, I am.

SL: And are you pregnant?

Me: Yep!

SL: Then congratulations!

. . . okay . . .

Am kind of wondering how this conversation would have gone if I'd answered "No" to the first question. Any thoughts?

Will be pondering this tonight at the Utah State Fair, until I'm too busy with my annual deep-fried peanut butter & jelly sandwich to ponder anything except why my left arm feels so dang tight and ouchy. The Precii are signing up to compete in the Mutton Bustin' competition, so please cross fingers that their names get called. And that they don't get their heads kicked in by a sheep. Thank you.

Smack. and. Down.

Fox News in Chicago recently ran a story about the Chicago public library system. In the article, journalist Anna Davlantes questions whether libraries are really worth the taxpayer dollars it takes to run them, and if that money would perhaps be better spent elsewhere. Her question is, "So with the internet and e-books, do we really need millions for libraries?"

In order to determine how many people use the library and what they are using it for, she placed an "undercover camera" in (what turned out to be lower-traffic spot in) the library. Based on her findings, Davlantes decided that people only go to the library to use the free Internet.

Which . . . just goes to show that not only does she not use libraries, but she didn't bother to actually get any real information about the people who do. The whole article is short, poorly researched, and does nothing other than give the bunker-dwellers more blind fodder for shutting down libraries.

Only then. Then, the Chicago Public Library Commissioner Mary A. Dempsey responded with a letter that delivered the "smack. and. down." referred to in this post's title. (Which, I must tell you, is a cleaner version of what first came to me upon reading the thing, which was "b****. and. slap.")

I can't post it here, it's too long. But it is too, too, entirely too good to pass up. Seriously. Go read it right now. You have to. And then check out some of the comments because they are awesome too.

Tiny note: Dempsey references the "digital divide" in her letter, which is librarianspeak for how, more and more, access to computers & the ability to use them makes a big difference between the "haves" and the "have-nots." People are frequently required to use computers and go online in order to do things like apply for jobs or for unemployment benefits. But you are less likely to have a computer and Internet access (or to even know how to use a computer) if you are poor or unemployed. Which is how people end up at the library, because that's where they're told to go. Even though we are limited in the amount of time we can spend helping each person, at least we can help a little bit.

Also? She points out that the 74 branches of the Chicago Public Library circulated over 10 million items last year. Which leads me to point out that the 19 branches of the Salt Lake County library circulated over 15 million. So, you know, tiny boo-yah there. I'm just saying.

You'll be relieved to hear

Recent conversation with library user

Library user: Hey, I ran out of time on the computer but I wasn't done sending my email yet. Can you do anything for me?

Me: I can start you another session, just let us know when you're running out of time, because it's easier for us to extend it then.

LU: Okay, great. Thanks

He hands me a flash drive. I wonder what he wanted me to do with it.

LU: Oh, that's your flash drive, the other librarian lent it to me.

Me: Oh, okay. Thanks.

LU: It's just that I have a solution for the oil spill, and I need to send it off to the government. That's why I need more time on the computer.

Me: Oookay then.

See? Don't you feel better now? Except hey, I'm going to go ahead and cross fingers that he does have a brilliant idea that will work, because so far no one else seems to.

I know lots of things, actually

Another warm day in the library. My big clue was when a guy came in wearing shortshorts and a mesh muscle shirt. I think the armpit holes had been enlarged even more, so it was pretty much like he was wearing one of those mesh pinnies with the flags that you wear during 4th-grade PE. (Remember that game where you try to run across the field without getting your flags torn off or your teeth elbowed out? Good times.)

But I digress.

I have decided that there probably needs to be a patron dress code for the library. I would settle for a simple sign that reads, "Unless you're feeding a baby with it, I shouldn't be able to see your nipple. Thank you."

Because that's what was right in my line of sight the entire time I was helping this gentleman. He was trying to track down what turned out to be an out-of-print cd by Wings.

Him: Are you sure you can't find it? It's by Wings. That's Paul McCartney's band. Do you know who Paul McCartney is? Or the Beatles?

Me: Dude, I know enough to keep my boobs covered in public, so yeah, I know who the Beatles are.

Except that last part was maybe my head.

Also, we have tickets to see Paul McCartney when he comes to Salt Lake City in July (not that we know who he is or anything). Please pray that Sir Paul doesn't die or get maimed or snagged by a(nother) gold-digger or any other bad thing before the concert, because if something were to go wrong then I'm pretty sure GH would never recover and I'd just be married to a broken shell of a person who will then be useless as a birthing partner.

You can see how straight my priorities are here.

Newsflash

Your dogs don't belong in the library.

Really. They don't.

This is not a park, it's not some rural tavern in France, it's a library.

Just thought you might need somebody to clear that up for you. I know it's hard to keep stuff like this straight.

It's getting warm and the clothes are coming off!

Working in the library, I can tell what kind of day it is outside by the way the library visitors dress. The other day I could tell we'd cleared 60 degrees because everyone who came in was either naked or wearing a beach cover-up.

This was fun when two little damp chlorine-drenched boys asked me for help finding Go, Diego, Go! DVDs. (My response: "I will absolutely help you, as soon as your little brother hops on down from that shelf." And yes, I will hold Diego hostage in order to bend children to my will.) The little boys (ages 6 and 4) crowded around me as I did a search in the catalog and one of them proudly whispered, "We just went to swimming lessons!"

Me: "I can smel--I mean, tell that you did! How was it?"

Little boys: "Really good."

Me: "Did you put your face in the water?"

Little boys: "Yes!"

Me: "Way to go! Now go teach my scaredy-pants niece how to do that." Except that last part was possibly in my head.

The "it's warm out and so I don't have to wear clothes" thing was less fun today when I helped a very nice mother and her (also nice) teenaged daughter reserve a book. The daughter was wearing teeny weeny tiny shorts, and she'd rolled down the waistband several times so that the shorts covered even less of her.

"I'd really like to help you ma'am, but I'm slightly distracted by the part where I can see your daughter's cervix."

Getting my votes in

On Monday all the Newbery/Caldecott/Sibert/Geisel awards will be announced, and I figured I'd slip in my picks now so that just in case something I like gets a medal I won't look like I jumped on a winner bandwagon after the fact. Cuz, you know, street cred among librarians is an intense, intense thing. Shivs slipped into cardigan sleeves and all that.

I've been reading off the lists of "books with potential" that other libraries are using for their own Mock Newbery competitions. Only . . . here's a the thing. Not too many of the books I've read this year have blown me away and made me want to run out and tell everyone about them. There are certainly some that I really like, and that I think are better than the others, but nothing that really brie'd my baguette, you know?

Reading so many books in a short amount of time, though, made me notice certain trends.

This year, war is a big one. Several books are set during the Vietnam war:

All the Broken Pieces

Kaleidoscope Eyes
Neil Armstrong is my Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me

And there are a couple dealing with Iraq/Afghanistan

Peace, Locomotion

Heart of a Shepherd

I know that in kids' books one of the first thing you want to do is get rid of the parents, but a lot of these did it in some pretty depressing ways. First we had the (many, many) kids who are foster kids or orphans:

Peace, Locomotion

SLOB
Carolina Harmony

The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg

All the Broken Pieces
Neil Armstrong is my Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me

And the ones who are dealing with the death or abandonment of a parent:

Love, Aubrey

Also Known as Harper
The Girl Who Threw Butterflies
Kaleidoscope Eyes

Heart of a Shepherd
All the Broken Pieces

Cheery, huh? But now on to my faves.


#1: SLOB by Ellen Potter. Technically, because of the age of the narrator, this one is YA. And it's wonderful. It's about a bright (perhaps genius) middle-schooler named Owen. Owen is the heaviest kid at his school and is busy working on two inventions, one of which is a trap to catch the person who keeps stealing the Oreos in his lunch box. I would recommend that you NOT read other descriptions of the book, because they might give too much away. One of the best things about SLOB is that you begin reading a seemingly simple tale about a fat kid's problems at school, but then it becomes much more emotionally complex (and breaks your heart) as crucial elements are revealed.

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg. This one is written in free verse, and is about a 12-year-old boy named Matt whose mother had him airlifted out of Vietnam with the departing US soldiers. His adoptive family loves him and he's on his way to being the star of the school baseball team. But he is met with some racism on the team and must slowly come to terms with his painful memories of Vietnam and of the mother and younger brother he left there.

Heart of a Shepherd by Rosanne Parry. This is another War book, about a boy named Ignatius who is left to try to run his family's Oregon ranch practically on his own while his father (along with all the other military reserve members of the community) is serving in Iraq and his brothers are away with the Army or at college. Religion plays an important element in the story--there's a Quaker grandpa and the community's new Catholic priest. This is a coming of age story that I really enjoyed.

Love, Aubrey by Susan LaFleur is one of our "abandoned/orphaned/neglected girl makes good" entries, and I think it's the best one of them. Aubrey's father and sister are killed in a car crash, and her mother pretty much implodes with grief and runs away, leaving her behind. Aubrey goes to live with her grandmother in another state, where she begins to get settled and makes friends. The book is a series of letters that Aubrey writes to an imaginary friend, where she works out her feelings about being abandoned, not only by her father and sister but also by her mother. It does have a hopeful ending though, in case you were worried.

Peace, Locomotion is the sequel to 2003's Locomotion, which I haven't read. I do like Jacqueline Woodson, though, and I really liked this. It's told in a series of letters from Lonnie to his little sister. They both live in foster homes after the death of their parents, and they communicate through letters and occasional Saturday visits. Lonnie talks about his struggles at school, the teachers who encourage him in his poetry endeavors, and his foster mother's worry over her son who is fighting (and then goes missing) overseas.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead is the book with the strongest Newbery buzz. I'll be fine if it wins, even though I believe I liked SLOB better. It's about a 6th grader named Miranda living in 1979 New York City. She's reading A Wrinkle in Time, and suddenly starts to receive mysterious anonymous letters that predict future events accurately. The notes are urgent and indicate that something important is about to happen. While she tries to work this out, Miranda is also having friendship struggles and helping her mother train to be a contestant on the $20,000 Pyramid. You definitely should read this one. And then once you get to the end you will be probably tempted to go back and read it again to find the clues you missed the first time around.

Does anybody have their own Newbery predictions or favorites? (And yes, I believe those two things are frequently incompatible, since it seems that some Newbery committees are just hell-bent on choosing books that they loved the pants off of but which no child would ever want to read. Which is fine, I guess, if you take Children's Literature to mean "Literature about Children" rather than "Literature for Children.")

My new favorite thing

Is when families go to the doctor and their children are diagnosed with H1N1 and are told to go home and get themselves quarantined. The family then leaves the doctor's office to go home . . .

. . . and stops by the library on the way home, where they all spend an hour choosing all the books and DVDs they'll need for the week.

Thanks for that, guys.

All parents are not created equal

Today a mom noticed that her toddler had located a little kids magazine and was beginning the "I'm going to rip this magazine because I am in awe of my strong ripping powers!" process. She rushed over to stop him but got there about a second too late. So she took the magazine away, informed him that we do not rip things, and found him a very sturdy book to read. She then brought the magazine over to me, told me what happened, and asked if she needed to pay for it.

I told her not to worry about it, that it looked like something I could easily fix with a bit of tape, and thanked her for bringing it over. Then we shared a laugh about toddlers and their Destructo ways.

This mommy is one of the good ones and I will always think of her this way unless something drastic should happen, like if I find her changing her baby's diaper in the middle of the children's section, using pages from a library book as wipes. Something like that.

Last night, the other kind of mother was here. She wasn't paying attention to her two little ones and they were running around like crazy loud dervishes. Crazy barefoot loud dervishes. One of the librarians went over and told her that her children needed to wear shoes in the library.

Mom: "Well, they chose not to wear shoes today."

Librarian, probably doing a massive internal eyeroll: "Well, if you choose to come to the library they need to have shoes on."

The mom proceeded to talk about how every time they come here someone ruins her children's library experience by saying things like "your kids need to wear shoes." And how we are making the library "not fun." And she wants to come back and speak with the director about how not-fun-making we are.

I wish I'd been there. My response would have been simple:

"Ma'am, sick people cough and spit on our floors, teens have thumbtack wars in the children's area, and a couple of weeks ago we found poop on the carpet. Still think your kids should be barefoot in here?"