Tallgrass by Sandra Dallas

Though I loved Persian Pickle Club, I didn't get too jazzed about Alice's Tulips. So I was hesitant to give Sandra Dallas another shot, but I did anyway.

And she came through for me. I read her Tallgrass, a story about a little fictional town that's set near one of the historical Japanese Internment camps.

I find this part of our country's history perplexing. I read Journey to Topaz, but never taught it in my years as a teacher. But the topic is haunting.

The book started slow for me, and I had to will my way into the plot, but I got there. And found some excellent characters. Dallas is strong with characters and plot. The dialogue drags a little in some places, but the other strengths compensate. Loved the end. Didn't see it coming and I can usually guess the end before I get there. So good job on that one, Ms. Dallas!

I would recommend this. Good for book groups. Ample fodder for discussion.

Katy, you don't do WWII now, but if you do, this would be good extra credit. Tough themes, good writing material. And it hasn't been made into a movie that I know of so they'd really have to read it. If you have a really sensitive soul in your class, probably not for him/her because of just a few lines of violence description. Pretty mild, but there.

The Outside World by Tova Mirvis

The trick about writing about the other is to make the foreign familiar and the familiar foreign. So that we can see ourselves in the other, and the other makes us see new things in ourself.

Kind of like when My Big Fat Greek Wedding came and and everyone could relate to it. One of the first things I heard about the movie was, "Well . . . it's about this Greek family and their daughter getting married. But you'd think they were Mormon!" A few days later one of my students was talking about the movie and she said, "It's about this Greek family. But they are just like my family. Except we're Chinese." It was a game I played: seeing how many times I could talk about the movie so more people would say this Greek family was just like their own family. And most people could. Maybe because it's about a single daughter who's getting older and she has adoring parents, relatives with opinions about how to wed her off, and therefore there's conflict and drama. It's pretty universal.

Well Tova Mirvis's The Outside World is about a daughter. Who's getting older. With a meddling family. But they are Orthodox Jewish. It's all about dating and mothers and fathers and religion and faith and finding the right spouse. It's about first dates and bad dates and worse dates. It's about finding a perfect soulmate and then realizing the soulmate isn't so perfect. It's about starting anew and then starting anew again. It's about finding meaning in religion and finding the meaning for yourself.

And Mirvis is a master at what she does. How she writes. The characters she develops. The humor she finds. She shows the human imperfection of people trying to live perfectly---all the while being respectful and non-critical. And she has some great one-liners like "The matriarchs would have made quite a stir in Brooklyn." Classic.

She made me see the foibles in my own life as I try to live religiously. And she made me laugh and laugh with some of her descriptions of dating talk among young women at a all women's school in Jerusalem. Orthodox women, but the conversation is almost word for word what's said in the BYU women's dorms. There I was, set in Jerusalem, and I could have in Provo.

If I were to pick my top 10 bookclub reading suggestions, this would be on the list.

Find a copy. I really think you'll like it. And if you want to compare and contrast, then read Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith, about a young couple in a totally different time and place.

No essay. I promise. Just come back and tell me what you thought.

Kristen C, I think you'll like this one. You'll jive with the voice and the irony. You'll get it.

How very Marianne Dashwood of me

Last week, Eric was out of town on business for part of the week. Then on Saturday he had an all-day scout training. Yesterday he had meetings early in the morning, meetings after church, and tithing settlement until 8 PM.

All the kids were sick.

I stayed home from church yesterday with the kids so my second son could sneeze and snot on me and not in Primary. My little girl had the croup, so I was a breathing treatment diva. I've gotten really good at holding her on my lap on the rocking chair in her room while giving her a breathing treatment while we watch ourselves in her long full-length mirror that's on the other side of the room. I sing "Little Peter Rabbit" in different voices with big actions with one hand to keep her entertained while I hold the Nebulizer in the other hand. I'm actually pretty good at fish voice, which is the most requested version.

So while the kids were supposed to be having rest-time, I ran out the front door to take the garbage out. And I tripped. And sprained my ankle. Pretty badly. So I dusted myself off and sat in my overstuffed red chair in the front room with my ankle in the air. I thought, "I have just sprained my ankle. How very Marianne Dashwood of me."

And then I started to think about the fact that Marianne Dashwood had someone come to her rescue. Ah, Mr. Willoughby. He was there to pick her up. Take her home. Bring her flowers and poetry. Say witty things. Give her an excuse to make her hair all curly. And I thought that it would be nice to have someone come and rescue me and try to tame the children who were THUMP! CRASH! BANGING! around upstairs during quiet time.

But I did not marry Mr. Willoughby, and it's a good thing because Mr. Willoughby was lacking in fortitude. Mr. Willoughby couldn't take it. Mr. Willoughby didn't stick around. Mr. Willoughby was a jerk. I am glad I did not marry Mr. Willoughby.

And sitting there, on my red chair, with my ankle puffing, I realized no one was going to come rescue me. I got up. Hobbled around. And then Eric came home at 8 PM and took care of the kids for an hour before they went to bed. And then he changed his plans for this week so he could be around to help me in my inability to walk. I love that man.

I called my sister after I'd sprained my ankle and told her about my Marianne Dashwood insights. And she said profound words. She said, "And what do with learn from Sense and Sensibility anyway? We learn that the right man will eventually come along. But in the meantime, your sisters will get you through." Liz and I talked about how we'd love to live on the same block for moments like the one I was having. I could call Liz and say, "I sprained my ankle. Up all night with a croupy child. Eric won't be home until later," and she'd say, "I'm going to the front door. Send the kids over and I'll be standing right here watching them come down the street."

My right man did eventually come around. But it's tricky---I married the right man and now work/church/his job/the world realizes what a good thing I have and they need a part of him too. So he goes. Because he is a good man.

So I call in the troops of women in my life---my mother who is here with my kids today, entertaining them and being her usual fairy godmother grandma self. I will call my sisters who live too far away and they will laugh with me or let me cry. Tomorrow when the kids are over their colds, I'll call on my sisters at church and they help.

And Eric will go and do what needs to be done and help everyone, including me.

And I will be here.

And my sisters will get me through.

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly

Have you read this one yet?

I checked it out of the library and then bought myself a copy so that I can read it again and loan it out. This is a keeper.

This is one of those delightful books that's labeled "adolescent literature" so it's sold for less on Amazon.com. Yet, in reality, it has universal appeal. Story is pretty canned: coming of age. Early 1900's. Girl trying to figure herself out as she grows up. Becomes great friends with her grandpa. They both like plants and bugs and other things considered unfeminine. It's a story that's been told a hundred times in a hundred different ways.

And this retelling is a gem. The writing is great. It is FUNNY! I treasure books that make me laugh out loud, and this one did. The characters are worth knowing.

It's a great read on its own. It would be a great book club read, especially if you are looking for something to do in a church book club and you need something clean.

It goes right along with Limberlost, which is where I'll put it on my shelves.

Sarah, this would fun for Sophie, Amy and Liz put this on your list for Millie and Ella for eventually.

And enjoy.

P.S. Does anyone have my copy of Ladies Auxiliary? Or Garlic and Sapphires? I let them swim out on loan into the big wide reader ocean and I can't remember where they are. If you have them, tell them to swim home.

Ode for Getting People to Sign up for PTA Luncheon

There's no real reason to post this, other than that Kristen C might see it and laugh. She and I spent many hours creating some very silly verse while we were in college. It's a talent.

I'm not sure where is a good use for this talent, but a talent indeed.

So here is the ode that I wrote to get people to sign up for our PTA luncheon. You have my full permission to use it anywhere anytime. You can even claim you wrote it.

Ye Olde Annual Staff PTA Luncheon Sign Up Sheet Ode

'Tis time in the year to give thanks where it's due

To our staff at _________, so loyal and true

We want to say thank you and we have a hunch

That they'd like our thank you, but that they'd love some lunch.

With soup and with salad! With cookies! With treats!

With bread and with snacks! With beverages! Sweets!

So please read the sign-up and then volunteer

The staff holiday luncheon just comes once a year

So look over the list 'til something catches your eye

Decide what you'll bring, and then hit "Reply".

See? A skill for sure, but where to use it . . .

Another tip for working with Pediatric specialists

I've had two more thoughts to follow-up on my last post of what I've learned about working with medical specialists. These are things I'm glad I did and found to be effective:

1. I find it very effective to be polite and thankful. Calm on the phone. Courteous in person. If a specialist has gone shown particular attention or fit us into her schedule, I write a nice thank you note on lovely paper. I remember to thank the workhorse doctors on our team at appropriate times: holidays, at times when Danielle is doing well at time-milestones that we've been given, etc. I send pears at Christmas to one doctor who is a particular star---she tells me that it's not necessary, but that her kids gobble up the pears. I send movie tickets as a holiday thank you to nurses in the office who have had to go above-and-beyond as they have cared for my daughter. In short, I acknowledge to our care providers that I know they are "just doing their job", but I recognize it's a tricky job and I try to express that I am thankful.

2. I do PR for my kid, conveying that I believe she's a well child, not a child whose life is compromised. Medical treatment is a sidenote, not her identity.

After my daughter had been hospitalized for the second time, and things were crazy (again), that is when I dressed her up in a princess costume and sent out birth announcements on Halloween. I sent them to my doctors, so that they would have this cute, happy, darling child in their heads when they saw her chart or came across her information---not the image of a baby in a diaper/blanket combo, tethered to wires in a hospital. When I have taken her to appointments, I dress her up in cute outfits, and if the outfit isn't cute enough already, I put a tutu over her pants and that does the trick. My message that I'm conveying is that we are going on with childhood, not sitting home sulking.

My friend Lindsay did something similar with her child when he was in the hospital. She took a marker and wrote all over his bedsheets: I AM WELL! I AM HEALTHY! I AM STRONG! I AM HAPPY! She drew suns and flowers and happy faces.

And that's what I try to convey with my actions to my doctors: My child is strong and happy. She has a great life! Thank you for helping us!

Working with Doctors, especially specialists

The beautiful thing about a blog is it's randomness. The topic has nothing whatsoever to do with anything I've written about before.

As I've mentioned, our daughter surprised us at birth with needing to be seen by a kajillion pediatric specialists. Which we did. Her medical mania is coming to a close now; all of her issues are resolving and she is, today, a precocious little lady who is developing right on track. Seeing her, you would never know that she's been the Superstar at many doctor's appointments. And the specialists are now bidding us good-bye: they say she's doing great and we don't need to come see them anymore. She'll have a few yearly follow-ups but she's doing so well that there's no future expectation of more medical drama in the future. Not now, not ever. For this we are grateful.

And I emerge a smarter, wiser, and more empowered mama bear. Here are some ways I've found to be the good patient/parent of the patient. (My brother who is a pediatric dentist has a colorful metaphor for parents who do their medical coordinating well. I certainly can't repeat it here in print. But I'll let you guess . . . )

1. I have learned that I must dress like a professional when I go to the doctor. When I dress business casual, the front office people pay more attention to me. They apologize more when I have to wait. The nurses take more time with us before we see the doctor. When I do see the doctor, he/she seems to listen to what I say with more attention and takes more time to explain the issues at hand. When I show up to an appointment in Mom jeans and snot on my shirt from where a child has sneezed on me, no one takes me very seriously. But when I wear a skirt, nice shoes, and I look professional, the office staff and the doctor seems to treat me more like an equal.

2. I have learned that doctors do want me to be a part of the decision making process. But first I have to prove to them that I am intelligent and informed. I have to do my homework---I have to be willing to ask about medical terms I don't understand. I have to be willing to read medical journal articles until I understand. If I appear to be an emotional wreck, the specialist will stop communicating with me and take over and make all the decisions even if I am vehemently opposed to them. But. If I am calm, rational, and obviously well-informed . . . and if I propose another method of treatment, usually the doctor will give my idea a serious consideration. I just have to prove that my thinking is rational, based on current medical theory, and non-risky. If I can do that, I can have what I want.

3. I have learned that it is the doctor's job to propose more tests and more scans---the doctor wants to do this to have all information possible. It is my job, as the parent, to question whether these scans are necessary, especially if there's a radiation risk involved. We all need to do our jobs. He/she needs to propose a test be done. But I get to ask if it's really necessary. If I'm not convinced, see 4.

4. I have learned that I am the captain of my child's medical team. Me. I am the captain. And I get to decide which doctors are on the team, and which doctors are off the team. Just recently I replaced Doctor A with Doctor B. I made the change because I disagreed with Doctor A's management and Doctor B was a better communicator and has more experience in the area we need it in. Doctor B in. Doctor A out. Me. I am the captain.

5. I have learned that doctors do much better if I hand them a typed paper with all the information on it. Doctors learn through printed words. They are words-on-paper people. If I just talk, I'm getting half their attention: 1/4 is examining my child while I talk, and the other 1/4 is thinking about their last patient or their next patient. But when I hand them something to READ, I get all their attention. I include things like: update since our last visit, my questions, current meds, current treatment plans of other specialists, etc. I make sure I have copies of scans or bloodwork in my hand---a copy I can give to them. I do all the homework I can, anything I think they need to know and anything that I want to know and I type it out. Marvelously effective.

6. I have learned that in cases like my daughter's, eventually specialists do tell us we don't have to come back to follow up anymore. Eventually they sometimes say, "Your child is normal, healthy, and thriving. Have a great life and send me a Christmas card with her picture in it every year so I can watch her grow up."

And that is the best lesson of all. All the medical mania, the questions, the time, the money, the worry, the fear, the uncertainty . . . it's all so that I can give my child the best shot at the best possible life she can have. Doctors sometimes have to be part of this. And to those who have helped us, I tip my hat. And when possible, bid a very fond farewell.