First Day, First Impressions

Dear Marshall,

Your first day of preschool was August 29 and I am setting this post to that date, because it belongs there. It is December now, exactly four months later, but I still remember that day vividly. I was so nervous about putting you on the bus, especially since your father had to be elsewhere that morning. You had never been out of our care for more than a few hours, and we had only ever left you with family. I worried about letting you go somewhere without me. And I worried how you’d feel about getting on the bus by yourself.

The bus was late, as buses usually are on the first day of school. I forgot about being nervous as I struggled to keep you busy. We talked, we paced, we popped seed cases on the jewelweed that grows next to the driveway. Then the bus finally showed up . . . and drove right by!

While I watched the bus turn around, you squatted down and rubbed your hands in the dirt (recycled asphalt, really) of the driveway. When I saw what you had done, I was horrified. I pulled you up, but it was too late. Both palms were black. I tried to brush them off, but all that that accomplished was to dirty my own hands.

I had no time to think about what to do, because the bus pulled into the driveway, the door opened, and you bounded up the steps without even looking back at me. I watched numbly as you raised a hand to wipe it on your clean, new shirt and then disappeared into the bus. I could only hope that the teachers would wash your hands off when you got to school. Some first impression you (and by extension, your parents) must have made that day!

But you once again impressed me with your willingness to meet life head-on. Preschool was just the first step of what I hope will be a long and rewarding life’s adventure, but it was a definite success. Well done, little adventurer!

Love,

Mom

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Pre-Preschool

Dear Marshall,

There were some things we needed to do before we could send you to preschool. Potty training was one of those things. Maybe potty training took a little longer than expected, but once you made up your mind to do it, you did. I hope you will always remember that, Sweets—sometimes your mind is the only thing you have to change to move forward in life. I am very proud of you.

Yesterday, after your preschool orientation, we went to the store to buy a backpack. You chose the bright colors of an Elmo backpack over blinking lights and cool Batman black. It was the perfect backpack for you, and even your father applauded your choice. I let you wear it in the store and you didn’t want to take it off at all, not to pay for it, not for the ride home. You wore it around the house all afternoon.

Tonight I will fill the backpack with all the things you’ll need for your first day tomorrow. I wish I could fold myself up and crawl in there so I could keep you company tomorrow. But I know I have to let you grow, and that means letting you have experiences all by yourself. I have to share you with the world. It’s hard for me to do that, but I think both you and the world will be better for it.

Happy First Day of School!

Love,

Mom

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More Books Read

The Tiger’s Wife by Téa Obreht
Grade: A-

In a war-torn Balkan country, a woman searches for the stories of her grandfather’s past and his recent death.

This is a brilliant first novel that doesn’t quite live up to its potential. What it becomes is a collection of character sketches, all beautifully drawn, but at the end you are left with the feeling that there’s no real story or character development. If you read the online reviews, quite a few people speak of an emotional distance or coldness that they felt while reading. I felt it, too. However, The Tiger’s Wife is IMHO quite well written and worth reading for that reason.

The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper
Grade: B+

A seventh son of a seventh son learns that he is one of the Old Ones, gifted with the magical powers of the Light. His mission is to find the six Signs with which to fight the powers of the Dark.

The setting is a small English village at Christmastime and during a severe winter storm. The author spends a lot of energy on this setting, giving us an old-fashioned Christmas with a loving family, traditional decorations, caroling, gift-giving, and the the exciting-yet-scary feeling of being cut off from the rest of the world by snow. That much is good. But the main character, Will, really doesn’t do anything. He just blunders from place to place (home, a farm, a neighbor’s house, church, etc.) and everything he needs is given to him, even the understanding of how to use his powers.

The lack of action and character development ruined The Dark is Rising for me. This book is on the list of top 100 children’s books, and I guess that’s not so surprising given the general quality of the writing, but I personally have no desire to read the rest of the series.

The Magician’s Elephant by Kate DiCamillo
Grade: A

An orphan boy asks a gypsy the question that has been burning inside him, and the gypsy’s answer is that he will find what he seeks by following the elephant. But where can he find the elephant?

The Magician’s Elephant is a lovely children’s book, but for adults. The main character is a boy and the events of the story put it solidly in the children’s-book category. But the way it is written—the melancholy atmosphere, the themes of hope and forgiveness, the poetic quality of the language—all make it more of a book for adults. Here is an example I found by opening up the book to a random page.

The manservant looked into the boy’s eyes and saw himself, young again and still capable of believing in miracles, standing on the bank of the river with his brothers, the white dog suspended in midair.

“Please,” said the boy.

And suddenly it came to [the manservant], the name of the little white dog. Rose. She was called Rose. And remembering it was like fitting a piece of a puzzle into place. He felt a wonderful certainty. The impossible, he thought, the impossible is about to happen again.

I could be wrong, but I think you need to be older to really understand the epiphany that the manservant is having here, and The Magician’s Elephant is full of these kinds of moments. So, while I really liked it, I doubt that most children would number it among their favorites. Still, I’m going to put it in the children’s section of my library, because where else could it go?

The Little Bookroom by Eleanor Farjeon
Grade: A

The Little Bookroom is a wonderful, old-fashioned collection of fairy tales and other stories by Eleanor Farjeon. Farjeon’s best-known work in America, the book says, is the hymn “Morning Has Broken” (the lyrics of which you can read here, on Wikipedia). I had not known that she wrote that hymn, actually, though I love the Cat Stevens recording of it. It’s a shame that so much of Farjeon’s work is now out of print. I hope I get to read more of it someday.

Most of the stories in The Little Bookroom are excellent, but my favorite part of the book was the author’s note at the beginning. In it, she describes the little bookroom of her youth, the place where she learned “to read anything that can be called a book.” I also enjoyed “Tea With Eleanor Farjeon” (by Rumer Godden), which is included at the end of this edition (The New York Review Children’s Collection).

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Favorite Thing: Playing With the Kids

The saddest part of being a parent is that in the hectic, daily struggle to meet the family’s basic needs, it is easy to forget how much fun children can be. I often have to remind myself to set aside time to play with them. I am always thankful when I do. Recently in play…

  • We built a garage for a toy car out of blocks. It had a sliding door operated by a pretend remote control, also made of blocks.
  • We pretended that Marshall’s and Livia’s beds were boats and that the carpet was a shark-infested sea.
  • We collected acorns in pails.
  • We hid in blanket forts, and rolled around in piles of pillows, and had horsy-back rides, and played kickball, and laughed together.
  • And Marshall declared, “I’m not a person. I’m a frog!” To prove it, he hopped and he ribbited and he gulped down imaginary flies.

I have so much fun playing with the kids, and that’s why it’s one of My Favorite Things.

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What I’ve Been Reading

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court by Mark Twain
Grade: F

In A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, a 19th-century engineer from Connecticut gets clobbered on the noggin and wakes up in 6th-century England. I’m not sure exactly what happens, because I could not make myself finish reading it, but I gather he tries to take over the place using his superior technology and lands afoul of the Catholic Church.

I once said that Twain’s worst writing is better than most authors’ best. A Connecticut Yankee makes me doubt the truth of that statement. At the end of the book was an afterword by T.E.D. Klein. I skimmed through it, and it convinced me that I had made the right decision in abandoning the book. He wrote, “[A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court] bears the stamp of [Twain’s] troubled genius on every page; and that is perhaps the greatest strength of this complex, flawed, fascinating book.” If I were studying Twain’s life, then I could see how the book might prove fascinating, but I was just looking for a good read, and this wasn’t it.

The Last Summer (of You & Me) by Ann Brashares
Grade: F

I wasn’t expecting Shakespeare, but I was hoping for something like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. All I can say is ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
Grade: B+

In Northanger Abbey, Catherine Morland goes to Bath to enjoy the social scene. Then one of Catherine’s new acquaintances invites her to Northanger Abbey (the acquaintance’s home). It sounds to Catherine like such a romantic place, and with romance in mind she happily goes, yet her welcome there may not last.

Northanger Abbey felt a little contrived and uneven, but it wasn’t bad. Little enough is known of Austen’s life that it must surely be worth the effort to read all of her books and try to understand her as best as that allows. I have now read all of her novels except Mansfield Park. I think I will have to borrow it from the library soon.

A Room With a View by E.M. Forster
Grade: A-

In A Room With a View, girl meets boy. Boy falls in love with girl. Girl falls in love with someone else. And then…well, it’s the usual thing. I thought it was extremely well written but somehow just not that satisfying.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Grade: A

Two magicians try to resuscitate the practice of magic in an alternative-history England during the Napoleonic Wars. The two men, one old and one young, have different ideas of how to do that, and consequently they clash. The practice of magic is not without perils, and soon they, their family and friends, and others in their proximity find themselves in danger from the powers that have been unleashed.

Somewhat overlong and unsure what kind of book it means to be, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is nonetheless a great read. You can compare Clarke’s writing favorably to other famous authors (Austen being the one the jumps to mind), but the story itself is the least derivative that I’ve seen in a long time. It is unlike anything I’ve read before, and kudos to Clarke for making fairies scary again.

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My Favorite Child

Dear Children,

Your father sometimes accuses me of favoring one of you. If he was consistent about which one of you was the supposed favorite, I’d probably get mad at him. He isn’t, though. Sometimes he says Marshall is my favorite, and sometimes Livia. That’s fine, because he’s right.

When I see Marshall’s wonderful smile, watch him “fixing” things with his tools or building another fantastic vehicle out of blocks, or listen to him tell a story, then he is my favorite, without doubt.

When I see Livia’s wonderful smile, watch her air kissing or riding on her daddy’s back, or running with that joyful, dancing twist of foot and sway of head, then she is my favorite, absolutely.

And so it goes every day, back and forth, each of you getting to be the favorite in turn. I love you both so much.

Mom

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Sing a Song of Sequels

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
Grade: A+

In The Lord of the Rings, a hobbit named Frodo Baggins inherits the magic ring that his uncle, Bilbo, found on a journey many years previously (the story of which is told in Tolkien’s first novel, The Hobbit). The ring turns out to be more powerful and dangerous than they could have imagined, and Frodo sets out on a perilous mission to destroy it.

Though The Lord of the Rings is technically a sequel, you’d hardly know it. The difference in tone between it and The Hobbit is striking. The Hobbit is a children’s book. TLOTR is not. Each can stand on its own. Both are equally good.

I am also a fan of the recent movie adaptations of TLOTR that were directed by Peter Jackson. Reading through the reviews of the movies on Amazon.com or similar websites, you will find the occasional diatribe by a fan of the book. Those reviewers are purists, angry over every little change to the actions, words, and motivations of the characters. I don’t share their wrath, and I hold no grudges against the screenwriters. Some changes were necessary, no getting around it. Tolkien’s honest, simple way of writing makes for lovely reading, but he told stories the way he liked them himself, and he seems to have been fond of old, long-winded mythical tales. As a result, his story-telling is often slow, occasionally to the point of tediousness. The story as he told it is far too long for three movies (even three very long movies) so the action had to be pushed along. I say kudos to Jackson for turning such a slow tale into an eminently watchable, action-packed trio of movies.

So you might wonder why, after daring to use the word “tediousness” in my description of Tolkien’s story-telling, that I still give it an A+ grade. It is because TLOTR is an inventive, epic, and exciting tale. It practically spawned an entire of genre of fiction. Even now, almost 60 years later, writers are still trying to imitate it and usually, sad to say, utterly failing to capture the spirit. When you read Tolkien, you can feel the joy with which he built his fictional world and the inventiveness that produced Bilbo, Frodo, Gollum, Gandalf, Tom Bombadil, the Ents, and Aragorn, just to name a few. So many wonderful characters and creations sprang from Tolkien’s mind. Hardly anyone in the whole history of fiction has given us so much. Most authors just cannot match him, and woe to they who try and fail.

Though I myself don’t think Tolkien’s writing is perfect, I am always surprised (and often annoyed) by other peoples’ negative opinions of his work. For example, I reviewed a book about C.S. Lewis Narnia series not too long ago. It was The Magician’s Book by Laura Miller. Since Lewis and Tolkien were good friends, Miller often mentioned Tolkien. I think my opinion of her book was somewhat colored by what she said about him. Even though she claimed to like his work, she also bashed it. She said,

Tolkien’s freakishly prodigious powers of invention could not supply the book with what four years of studying English literature had led me to expect from a great novel. . . . I had read Tess of the d’Urbervilles and Absalom, Absalom! and Crime and Punishment—to name just three books with related themes—and knew they sounded depths that Tolkien never touched.

I, too, studied English literature, and I think I understand what she is saying. She’s right, and yet she’s not. There are different types of stories, and they serve different purposes. It is not always wise or instructive to compare the merits of one against the other. Apples and oranges, so to speak. I would not say that TLOTR is the greatest book I have ever read, but it is among the best I have ever read. Nothing beats it for escapist reading. I believe that’s as important in its own way as those “depths that Tolkien never reached.” There are, in fact, times when I don’t want those kinds of depths. Sometimes I just want to marvel over talking trees, or feel reassured by the strength of Frodo and Sam’s friendship, or vicariously shrink in fear from the Ringwraiths while I snuggle safely in my own bed. That’s worth an A+ to me.

Toujours Provence by Peter Mayle
Grade: A-

This is a sequel to Mayle’s A Year in Provence, which is the very humorous story of how he and his wife relocated to Provence and all the difficulties and cultural differences they encountered along the way. Though Toujours is not as good, I think it would make an excellent epilogue to the original if read directly afterward.

Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex by Eoin Colfer
Grade: B-

The Artemis Fowl books are like candy. You eat them quickly, enjoy them at the time, but hardly remember the experience later except that you might say, if prompted, that they were yummy. That’s OK, because as I mentioned above in my review of TLOTR, different books serve different purposes. But even in the realms of junk food there are good candies and not-so-good candies, and I’m afraid that the Artemis Fowl books are starting to taste like that cheap Easter candy that looks like chocolate but doesn’t taste half as good. The last book of the series that I really enjoyed was The Lost Colony. The following book, The Time Paradox, was a disappointment. This one was worse, and I do not recommend it.

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Favorite Thing: Daybed

I wanted a daybed very much when I was younger, and though I remember shopping for daybeds, somehow I never got one. Years later, I needed somewhere for guests to sleep and my office was big enough to accommodate a daybed, so I finally bought one. There’s nothing inherently special about it. It is simply a bed (well, two beds, thanks to the trundle conveniently stored beneath). It’s great for guests, as planned, but it also provides a quiet place to sleep when one of us doesn’t want to be woken by the children in the morning. It’s a comfortable place to rest and read or blog. It meets my current needs and satisfies an old dream. That is enough to make it my favorite thing today, as I rest on it and type this post.

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So Far Today

After diapering and dressing the children, feeding them their breakfast and lunch, and washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen counter, I have now officially met the bare minimum of motherly tasks for the morning and afternoon.

I also got Marshall to use the potty once and Livia to use it twice, which is pretty darned good considering that he’s uninterested and she’s preverbal.

I read to Livia and put her down for her nap.

Marshall and I watched a bunny and three chipmunks feeding themselves in the yard.

But I am tired, so tired that the most basic tasks seem confusing.

I hope my husband gets home soon so I can take a nap.

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Favorite Things: Crayons

That’s the wonderful thing about crayons. They can take you to more places than a starship.

Guinan (Star Trek: The Next Generation character)

I love crayons. I love the way they smell. They smell sort of like candles, but better than candles. Like candles with potential. I also love the versatility of crayons. You can draw lines with them or color in large areas. You can smudge them. You can even melt them.  And if you should break them or lose them, no worries. They’re nontoxic and inexpensive to replace.

Sometimes when I’m watching Marshall in the afternoon, we color together. We draw all sorts of things, from basic shapes to flowers, cats, and toys. Sometimes he asks me to draw specific things. Once he asked for a picture of a Christmas tree with a star on top, and another time he demanded a television. One day I showed him how to draw stick figures and he made me to draw “bendans” (Band-Aids) on all of them. He is fascinated by Band-Aids.

Though I have a large collection of crayons for my personal use that includes colors that you can’t even buy anymore, the crayons that I love best are Marshall’s hard-used, jaggedly-broken crayons. They are symbolic of that time spent with him, time spent just talking and having fun together. Soon Livia will be old enough to join us. I hope that crayons will help both children learn to enjoy art freely without feeling like they have to be good at it or worrying that they’ll be criticized.

I certainly don’t worry about art critics. I love making crayon art. It’s just so colorful.

This is a picture of some of my crayon art. The hand in the lower right corner is Livia's. She can't resist crayons either!

I can’t wait until the children start making crayon art for me. They get better at almost everything every day. Soon they’ll be covering our refrigerator with their colorful masterpieces. And that’s why crayons are My Favorite Things

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