What We're Reading for Halloween

  
 "Eek!" Mouse squeaked. What could it be?

I love the cadence and rhythm of those words because I've heard them out of the mouth of my preschooler for a couple of years now, and I never tire of reading them myself. They are from Mouse's First Halloween by Lauren Thompson. This book should not appeal to me. It's part of the "Mouse's First..." Series, a collection of books that seems to seize every holiday and every season as yet another opportunity to sell a book, to turn a profit - Mouse's First Christmas, Mouse's First Spring, and so on. Yet, I adore this one. The illustrations by Buket Erdogan are insanely beautiful to me. They are simply acrylic on canvas, but they are vibrant, saturated colors, and I love the way the eerie blue almost glows from behind each page. Plus... the language. I really do think the sentences are well-crafted and pleasing to the ear. I know this because all of my kids have repeated the reassuring rhymes over and over and over again for years now... and I will still happily read this book to them anytime they ask. That says a lot. Perfect, perfect, perfect for the wee little ones in your life!

And Then Comes Halloween by Tom Brenner is undoubtedly a poem written by a grown-up in remembrance of Halloweens past. It's beautiful; it's rife with literary devices, and the watercolor and collage art work is lovely to look at. Your kids will like it... and you'll get to let them feast on alliteration and personification like this: "When autumn spiders weave silver webs from pillar to post, and the wind whispers winter and the bones of trees begin to show..."

The Fierce Yellow Pumpkin has been a favorite of ours for years, and we read it as a family tradition before we carve our pumpkin. It's weird.  I mean really. It's really weird but charming. Margaret Wise Brown (of Goodnight Moon fame) is just some kind of a genius because she writes these books that hardly make sense to me but that my children are just captivated by. My kids love the idea of this fierce yellow pumpkin who longs to be ferocious enough to scare all the field mice away. And it truly is fun for adults to read. If you're an insane person, you might just giggle at the grocery store produce section thinking of Brown's words: "He grew so fat and full of himself that he began to think he was a very fierce vegetable, as fierce as the sun that warmed his fat round sides."

The Little Old Lady Who Was Not Afraid of Anything  by Linda Williams is my brand-new favorite. It was published nearly 30 years ago, but I just discovered it! A little old lady finds herself out on a walk later than she expected and is followed home by a host of characters (who make delightful sound effects). Fortunately for us, she is not afraid of anything, so we aren't either. Instead, we just get to join in on the fun. The story demands everyone's participation and the ending resolves itself beautifully. Depending on the age of your audience you could read this with a bit of suspense and spookiness or simply giggle and laugh the whole way through. I highly recommend it.

The Runaway Pumpkin by Kevin Lewis is on this list because my children demand it. But please know that I object. I find the rhyme to be clunky and the rhythm totally elusive. However, I do actually read to delight my children... and this book delights them. They love the idea of this giant pumpkin rolling down the hill causing one disaster after another. I suppose there is some sense of justice in it all since it is finally tamed (maimed?) into pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin pie by Granny Baxter.

On My Love of Corduroy

In our home, everyone loves Corduroy. Published in 1968, he is just a few years shy of his 50th birthday. He's an original, not to be confused with the plethora of modern Corduroy books available "based on the character created by Don Freeman." Well... it isn't likely that you would actually confuse them. Here's a hint: Corduroy doesn't wear a bunny suit and isn't likely to pose for the cover of a "Home Alone" movie anytime soon. But I digress.

I am no artist, but do you see those water colors! It's striking yet subtle all at the same time. Freeman, himself a white male, is noted for choosing to portray a black heroine who, during the course of the book, is helped and waited upon by a white sales clerk. This hardly seems like a social justice statement, but this was also 1968. It was only 6 years prior, in 1962, that Ezra Jack Keats shook up the picture book world with the success of The Snowy Day, and that book didn't even touch upon the social interactions of different races. It merely featured a loveable black hero adventuring outdoors on a wintry day.

The action that takes place in this story is absolutely unremarkable. A toy bear in a department store discovers his button is missing after a little girl's mother remarks on it.

“Oh, Mommy!” she said. “Look! There’s the very bear I’ve always wanted.”

“Not today, dear.” Her mother sighed. “I’ve spent too much already. Besides, he doesn’t look new. He’s lost the button on one of his shoulder straps.”

Corduroy searches for the his button after the store has closed for the night. Unable to recover the lost item, he resigns himself to once again sit on the shelf alongside his fellow toys. In the morning, the little girl returns and buys the toy bear. When she brings him back to her apartment, she reassures Corduroy:

“I like you the way you are,” she said, “but you will be more comfortable with your shoulder strap fastened.”

“You must be a friend,” said Corduroy. “I’ve always wanted a friend.” 

“Me too!” said Lisa, and gave him a big hug.

 I am thankful for Corduroy because it can endure dozens and dozens of readings. At one point, this was Elinor's "read me every hour of the day" book. The text isn't just particularly charming. Freeman was, after all, an artist not a wordsmith, and Corduroy benefited from some careful editing following its initial rejection by publishers.  But the soul of the story came straight from Freeman and the sparse text is pleasing and polished.  In a lecture delivered to those interested in making picture books, Freeman noted "Simplicity is the essence of children’s book stories, not simple mindedness," and I think he accomplished this in Corduroy. The book may be simple, but beautiful themes abound - themes of friendship, of redemption, of restoration. If you're going to read a book over and over and over and over again, let it be a book that speaks those realities into the heart of your 2 year old.

On My Love of Moongame

The moon is probably referenced more often in children's picture books than astronomy textbooks. Off the top of my head I can think of at least a half dozen lines from books sitting right here on one of our bookshelves.

"Chicka chicka boom boom; look there's a full moon" - Chicka Chicka Boom Boom
"While the moon sailed high in the dark night sky" - The Big Red Barn
"Moon in my bed and dreams in my head. That's what I'll wear tonight" - Jesse Bear, What Will You Wear?
"Harold needed a moon for a walk in the moonlight." Harold and the Purple Crayon
"In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf." - The Very Hungry Caterpillar
"I love you right up to the moon and back." - Guess How Much I Love You
"Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon." - Goodnight Moon

 While I love these "moon" books, and most of them are probably well known to you, not one of them has earned a spot on the coveted bookshelf above Elinor's bed. That honor goes to Moongame by Frank Asch. First published in 1984, the year of my birth, this is a book I fondly remember from my own childhood.  Moongame is actually one in a series of books about a naive little bear who wants so badly to interact with the moon. Other (more popular) books in the series include Happy Birthday, Moon, Moon Bear, and Mooncake. But for some reason, we love Moongame most of all.

The plot is simple enough. Bear decides to play a game of hide-and-seek with the moon, and the action of the story is moved forward as Bear tries to uncover moon's hiding spot. He searches behind rocks and in house windows, not realizing that a passing cloud has merely covered the moon for the time being. Both Asch's text and illustrations are simple and charming. The color palette he uses is actually quite beautiful. It's a book that just feels gentle and cozy which makes it a great bedtime read. It's also a book that ages well with your child. As a toddler, they identify and empathize with Bear, hoping he'll find moon at long last. As a preschooler, they are in on the joke and can giggle as Bear mistakes a big wedge of cheese or a large yellow balloon for the moon.

On My Love of Molly Lou Melon

Molly Lou Melon had a voice that sounded like a bullfrog being squeezed by a boa constrictor. She didn’t mind. Her grandma had told her, “Sing out clear and strong and the world will cry tears of joy.” …

So she did.

If reading that little excerpt hasn’t already stirred up in you a desire to own this book, I am sure something is very wrong with you.  My 2 year old daughter has seven precious picture books near her bed. They sit atop little wooden spice racks and every day I read her at least one of them (sometimes all of them).  Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon is her particular favorite, and I am so glad it is.  You see, picture books are a minefield. They are not as forgiving as chapter books.  Your child is going to request his or her favorite picture book over and over again, and most books simply can’t stand up to multiple readings.  One poor word choice on page 7 that you didn’t give a second thought to on the first read through is enough to make you want to track down every known copy to fuel an enormous bonfire on the 135^th reading. 

“Molly Lou Melon” is a gem.  Every word is perfectly chosen.  There are no wasted sentences.  And the story is so rich.  Molly Lou Melon is a little girl who, as we’ve already seen, lacks a beautiful singing voice (among other shortcomings) … but she doesn’t mind.  I love that. She just doesn’t mind, and all the anxieties and insecurities you might expect from a little girl who is impossibly short, clumsy, and buck-toothed to boot are simply not to be found because Molly is patterning her life after her grandma’s sage advice – to confidently be herself. 

And Ronald Durkin.  Can’t you just tell by that name that he’s arrogant and ill-mannered? My husband has actually described someone as a “real Ronald Durkin” and I cringed knowing exactly what he meant.  Well Ronald Durkin does his level best to make sure that Molly Lou Melon is put in her place, but to no avail.  In fact, by the book’s end, both my daughter and I rejoice as good triumphs over evil, and more than that, grace abounds for dear old Ronald. 

If the text of the story wasn’t enough, the art is perfect (which I didn’t realize until about the 35^th read through). Like Molly herself, the watercolor and pencil illustrations are a bit eccentric, but in a loveable way. One full page spread in particular shows Molly Lou Melon in all her glory, (but not to her advantage) as she shows off her buck-toothed smile. But that’s kind of the point. Molly is winsome and charming because she’s Molly, not because she has a perfect smile.  There is something new to see or appreciate each time I turn a page, a veritable feast for the eyes. 

You should own Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon.  It may not be the Jesus Storybook Bible, but it has got its share of truth, goodness, and beauty.

Making Samaritan Work for Us

The biggest downside to forgoing traditional insurance and using a Christian health sharing ministry like Samaritan Ministries is that you have to take responsibility for your own preventative health care.  The rationale behind this is simple. Preventative medicine is not a surprise. It's something that you can plan and budget for. You know, for instance, that your yearly well-woman exam is going to occur... well... each year. You can choose when and how much you'll pay for a flu vaccine or a tetanus booster. Those are not unexpected expenditures.  They don't catch you by surprise the way a broken arm or a viral infection do. When we had Blue Cross Blue Shield, preventative medicine was covered 100%. This meant that I could show up for my yearly exam and pay nothing! It was free, free, free! It was, however, the only thing that was free.  If I showed up to my doctor's office with a sore throat and they did a strep test I would be out $277.  So, the once yearly free visit didn't justify the $1,145 monthly premium for all of us to be covered coupled with the craptastic $4,800 family deductible we had to reach before real benefits even kicked in.

Not having traditional insurance has changed the way I "shop" for medical services. It's made me a more responsible consumer. I declined the Tdap vaccine (whooping cough booster) they give to moms of newborns at the hospital because it was $125, and wasn't part of the birth package I'd paid for since it's "preventative medicine." I made a few phone calls because I really did want to get the booster. Turns out CVS Minute Clinic gives it for $92. At Walgreens it's $64, and Kroger will administer it for $50 even. That's the same price as our county pubic health centers! And... you don't have to wait in line for a few hours.  Sometimes a few phone calls will save you $75 (or 3 hours of your day). 

Likewise, we have switched pediatricians in order to see one who is part of the "Texas Vaccines for Children" program which gives all uninsured and underinsured patients access to free or dirt-cheap immunizations.  This does mean longer wait times in their office, and it does mean adding a few miles to our drive, but those inconveniences are so small when you consider the hundreds and hundreds of dollars charged by most other offices for all those baby immunizations. 

Piper's Birth Story

In which I relay all the facts of her birth, so I can remember them :).
On Monday, I started timing my contractions at 5:50 PM.  They were 30 second and not very painful at all.  By 7 PM they were 60 seconds, but I was still able to walk and talk through them.  I called my mom and my sister to ask them if they would drive over to our house.  I was pretty sure we were going to have this baby soon, and they were driving from the other side of the metroplex, so I went with a "better safe than sorry" attitude.  At 8PM, I had a cluster of contractions three minutes apart, and decided to call the doctor.  Because I still wasn't in much pain, he told me that it was entirely up to me as to whether I wanted to head to the hospital.  He said it was counter intuitive, but to try to "stop" labor (i.e. drink water, stop walking, go to sleep).  If it was the real thing, my body would let me know soon enough. From 9:30 - 11:00 I tried to sleep.  I slept intermittently since my contractions were stretching out to ten minutes apart, but they were increasingly painful.

Suddenly, my body turned a corner, and every 4 minutes I was having intense contractions about 45 second in length.  Trey and I headed to the hospital and signed in at 11:38 PM.  I was in a lot of pain and it took a little while for the nurse to come in to check to see how dilated I was.  With our last birth, I had checked into the hospital totally unsure as to whether I was in labor or not, and I was between a 6 and a 7, just about to head into transition.  Now, I knew that I was in intense labor and I was anxious to find out what the nurse had to say. "3 and a half"  Seriously?  Were they going to send me home?  I wouldn't go. I would sit in the car. I was in too much pain to be at a 3. Fortunately, when she checked a half hour later I was at a 5, so my body was progressing quickly.  The nurse asked me to lay on my left side because the baby's heart rate was decreasing and so was mine.  I started feeling very dizzy and woozy, and they put an oxygen mask on me.  I asked for pain medicine since an epidural was out of the question, but I was sure I was going to pass out.  The nurse realized that I was getting more and more light-headed and she had me switch to laying on my right side.  Good gracious.  That made a world of difference. I mistakenly thought she had already given me Fentanyl and that the pain medication had actually made me clear headed.

After laboring on the bed for a bit, I told the nurse that I needed to pee. To my delight, she told me she wanted me up and walking around anyway.  She unplugged the contraction monitor and let me make my way to the bathroom.  I felt a bit conflicted because I didn't know how to pee.  What if I pushed out the baby?  I know, that's a crazy thought.  Instead, I just sat on the toilet trying to figure out how to pee without accidentally birthing my daughter in the bathroom.  I started having contractions one on top of the other and I could not stand up.  Suddenly, I realized that my body was actually trying to push. I was hesitant to tell Trey, totally mortified.  "Something is wrong," I told him, willing him to read my mind.  Finally, I just blurted out "My body is trying to push, Trey."

Trey called out for help and our friend Emily ran to the nurses station.  The nurse came to help me get back to the bed but I couldn't move.  I insisted that my body was trying to push the baby.  Miraculously, I was pushed up onto the bed and immediately delivered the baby.  No doctor in sight.  Everyone was a bit in shock.  All I could think was "I did this wrong. I did this wrong." I felt so apologetic.  When you have a baby the doctor is supposed to be there. He's supposed to tell you that you're doing great, that you just have a few more pushes to go, and that soon you'll meet your sweet bundle of joy.  You're not supposed to find yourself on the toilet in a panic with no nurse or doctor nearby.

In all the rush, it never occurred to me to wonder whether we'd had a boy or a girl.  We'd waited 9 months for this surprise, and somehow, all I could think about was "Good gracious Father in Heaven, did I just give birth on accident?"  I can't remember who first announced that it was a girl, but I didn't believe them.  In the latter months of my pregnancy, I started to feel more and more like we were having a boy.  It was a bit of a shock to have a girl, but such a good one.  Elinor would have a sister, and I would have two sweet little girls. It's still hard for me to comprehend.  Right after Piper's birth, my OB did make his entry.  He had never before missed a birth from 50 feet away. It was a first for him.  He said he was happy to hear the first cry, and that was enough.  Miraculously, by the grace of God, we did not have the baby in the bathroom.  And that I consider a Herculean feat!

PSA (Public Service Announcement or Personal Self-Awareness)

It's not Father's Day yet, so I'm writing a post that's aimed at being preventative rather than responsive.  Let's strike a bargain, okay?  Tomorrow, just tomorrow, let's be okay with people praising their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, or any other person who filled this role as a praiseworthy role model in the absence of a traditional father.  Let's not tell them in the midst of their happy remembrances and grateful, thankful hearts, that they are doing this wrong.  Let's not rebuke and correct them and suggest that the "appropriate" way to celebrate this holiday is to remember the pain of so many others who didn't have a father in their lives.  Because what we are telling them is that you shouldn't be thinking about your father or that wonderful person who stepped in to be that "father, you should be thinking about me -- my lack of a father, my pain at his absence, me, me, me.  That pain and those conversations should take place.  You should absolutely be able to pour out your vulnerability and your brokenness and your hurt -- and those conversations can and should be taking place throughout the calendar year.  But let's just hold back enough to resist the urge to shame people for being happy on this day -- because their happiness is actually a good thing, and it doesn't encroach or deny your legitimate sadness at your lack of a good (or present) father.  We would never respond to a husband's post thanking his wife for 10 years of wedded bliss by reminding him that on his wedding anniversary he really ought to be thinking of the 50% of marriages that end in divorce.  I have friends who are broken-hearted in the midst of their infertility, but they never post on those newborn hospital pics "Just remember, we'll never have this joy."  Because they understand, they are self-aware enough, to realize "this isn't actually about me."  So, please, please, please, let's pursue having those conversations about how an absent father or an abusive father hurt us, but let's not do so by shaming others who are simply doing a good thing by giving honor to whom honor is due. They aren't doing it to hurt me or you.  Actually, they aren't doing it for us at all.  Because... it's not about us.  Although we really, really want it to be.  So let's just let it be about someone else.  It's good for us to acknowledge that we're not the center of the universe 100% of the time, truly it is.