A Nose is for Sniffing New Books

Ted has been working long days on a film project for the last month or so, and yesterday was one of those days that I was single-momming it. I have such deep respect for my single-parent friends. It wears me out. I just deleted a long run-down of my day yesterday because no one really wants to hear it. It was busy. I had Abe by myself from wake-up to lay-down. When faced with the choice: blog or 30 Rock, I chose the latter.

Today I got a chance to sleep in, and Ted has agreed to be "on," so we took a trip this morning to a bookstore where Abe likes to play with the trains. Our local neighborhood newspaper had an article recently about favorite children's books, and one by Beverly Cleary was mentioned: Socks. It was published the year I was born, and I had a copy that I wore out from multiple readings and then lost, the way we toss aside relics of our childhood that we have no idea we'll want one day.

At the bookstore this morning, I tracked down a copy of Socks, but all the illustrations and cover art were different, updated versions. Boo. I want the original version, the one with the simple pen and ink drawings. As I was lamenting the loss of the illustrations I loved, I opened the book and stuck my nose right in the crease between the pages. I breathed in. Memories, memories, memories came to mind, of hours spent in my backyard treehouse reading, of the library at my elementary school, of the Troll Bookclub catalog.

Ah...the Troll Bookclub catalog. Anyone else remember this? Once a month, our teacher would send us home with a flimsy four page catalog, more like a flier really, of books we could order from Troll. They were all super cheap. My grandparents always gave my sister and me $1 for every A and 50 cents for every B on our report cards each nine weeks, and I'd usually use this money to buy from Troll. I could actually get quite a lot with a few dollars.

The funny thing is that I never really wanted any of the "classics." In fact, we had a relative who always gave us books at Christmas, and I hardly ever read them. They were books from the Little House series, and Frances Hodge Burnett books, etc. I could somehow tell that they were books I was supposed to read, so of course, I never did. Instead, I bought from Troll cheap paperback books that have definitely not stood the test of time. What did it matter to me? If it was about a cat or even remotely spooky, I'd read it.

In the post a few days ago where I asked for suggestions for topics, someone asked a really good question: Which books should all children have in their libraries? I thought about it and realized that I can't answer. It just depends on the child. Every child should have in his or her library exactly whatever they are drawn to, whether it's the Little House series or those awful Goosebumps books. Let them read what they want. My mom did, and even though I probably read a whole lot of fluff, along the way, I did find books like Socks, books that have stood the test of time, books that I remember.

Even though I somehow missed reading the Narnia series growing up (my second grade teacher did read the first one to us out loud), a friend introduced me to them in the 8th grade, and I, of course, loved them all (well, except for The Horse and His Boy which was just sort of...eh). I really believe that because my parents let me read whatever I wanted, by the time I got older and was introduced to "good" literature, my imagination was ready for it. I soaked it all up, so much so that my friend who introduced me to Narnia and I would go track down longer versions of things we'd only read excerpts of in our high school literature classes (like Essays in Idleness by Kenko) and I spent a good chunk of my graduation money on paperback copies of classics.

I eventually got a degree in English, which didn't happen because someone read me the "classics" as a child or bought them to go in my library. I grew up to love literature because I was given the freedom to read what I wanted, to experience the anticipation of the new Troll catalog and the joy of the day my teacher handed me my stack of cheap paperbacks, none of which I still own.

It doesn't matter though. I remember the smell of a brand-new book, especially the smell of a cheap paperback. That never changes. The only "must haves" for our kids' library simply may simply be: plenty of shelves, a library card, and noses for sniffing between the pages.

(in reference to the title of this post, anyone read A Hole is to Dig by Ruth Krauss, illustrated by Maurice Sendak? So wonderful, amazing illustrations, clever, smart, funny: love this book. Highly recommended)

Good Dog, Carl

Here, Abe reads you a story, Good Dog, Carl, admittedly, one of the weirdest children's books ever:

Chores

Is two too early to start giving chores to a kid? I think I read somewhere that you should start giving them little tasks to do as early as possible, which we've been doing now with Abe for several months now (probably before he was two). It's worked out great so far because he really likes being given a task, whether it's helpful or not--like when he goes outside with Ted to "help" him dig in the backyard. Abe could sit in a pile of dirt with a shovel and a few sticks and dig for hours.

The chores Abe does now all involve fetching something or putting something away. We'll ask him to go put something in his room or bring something down from his room. The other day, he spent a good half hour helping me put all the rolls of toilet paper into the linen closet after our trip to Costco. In the grocery store, I try to have him help me by putting things into the cart or holding my list. Every night before his bath, he puts his dirty clothes into the hamper.

Definitely though, my favorite thing he does with his chores is the way he puts his shoes by the front door. I always ask him to sit down by the door, take off his shoes, and leave them "beside" the door. Sometimes, I ask him to put mine by the door too, which he did here while we were staying up at Mount Hood a couple of weeks ago:

pretty cute, right?

...unrelated to chores, but get this: Abe was just in the bath singing a made-up song about The Biggest Loser. He made it up himself. Sure, the main words were "biggest," "loser," and "the," but still. He knows it's Tuesday. I'm thinking he's a song-writing prodigy.

Catfish

Abe, today, discovered how to put a plastic cup over his mouth and under his chin, suck in, and hold it there with no hands, eyes bugged out and finishing with laughter as the cup falls off. You know you all have done this, some still as adults.

I couldn't convince him today that he had been given oatmeal for breakfast and not catfish. He kept telling me over and over that he'd had catfish for breakfast. He had one bite of my catfish sandwich last week when Janka and Peter were visiting. Now he's fixated.

You think anyone has let Brad P know that his beard looks ridiculous?

A very funny friend (you know who you are) made me nearly wet my pants a week or so ago when she sent me this photo that she'd put together:
Yes, Brian Williams is my other boyfriend. Besides Matt Damon. And Ted.

Watch this to see why.

Yeah, that's about it for today. Official worst daily blog post ever. Besides the pretty Brian Williams and his purple tie.

Our Month of Visitors

First was my dad and stepmom.

Nine days later, Ted's college friend Mark stayed over one night on his way home to Colorado. This is the only picture we got.

Five days after that, our friend Staci from Los Angeles.

Another twelve days brought Janka and Peter, the bringers of chocolate.

Three days later, a surprise and happy visit from Marty in Seattle, last seen by me in 2006 in Slovakia.

This is what happens when a couple has lived in a lot of different places, especially before getting married. I say: bring it on. The more the merrier.

You Should Read This

We have another, unexpected, yet very welcome guest right now, a friend I hadn't seen in person in almost three years, and I don't have a lot of time right now to write. So. I'm stealing this from my blogging hero's blog, the famous Coffeemom. I love her mucho grande, for many reasons. I would just link to this recent post of hers that made me cry (her posts often make me cry), but I'm afraid that people won't bother to click the link and actually read it. So I hope she doesn't mind that I'm going to cut and paste what she wrote. It's just that I really want you to read it.

After you read it, if you were moved in any way, please click this link and leave her a comment telling her so. She is an amazing woman. Here is what she wrote:

I don't have a picture. Not the right picture anyhow. I have this picture, far below, which will have to suffice.

I had a "mark the good" moment today. And because I have written before about how I think its important to MARK the good when you recognize it, I want to write this down...for the record, and so it doesn't slip away from my foggy mind. In older child adoption, there is so much that is strange and awkward, especially at first. And only time can help ease into some things. One of those is worth a whole 'nother post (Fair warning...). But it is this very thing that had one of those moments today, the kind that stills and shimmers for a minute, you realize you kind of are holding your breath so you don't blink and lose it. Then you do blink because you have to, suddenly, there is a pending spill. And if you're lucky you recognize, that this is one to mark. A step forward. A settling in. A deeper twinge resonating.

Ack. Let me explain. Tomorrow is Marti's birthday. She is a bit giddy in anticipation. Just a little shivery giddy. But I didn't really see it until Mass.

Every day we go to Mass after we drop off the school kids (parochial school, one of the perks). Every day we sit in our pew, third from the back, left. Some mornings Coffeedoc gets to join us before clinic. Today was one of those.

Marta was in between us, she kept pulling Coffeedoc closer in, and squooshing closer to me. We were all mooshed up together in that pew, tho the pew was empty otherwise. If you didn't know it, it looked like it was below freezing and we were huddling for warmth. Then, in one of the quiet moments of the Mass, we sat again, taking our huddle. She grinned and she pulled him closer in, put his hand on her lap and grabbed mine, pulling it to his, placing our two old hands together. We smiled a small laugh at each other. Then she grinned wider.

She wrapped her little arms around our big ones on either side, grabbed hands in the middle and squeezed. "My dad. My mom," she whispered to us with a huge smile.

It was very much like a small small child, claiming again, for the hundredth time, their parents. But this was our teen. Not a toddler. But the declaration was the same. And we looked across her head and smiled that deep smile. And then, surprising myself...I blinked.

I don't have a picture to show you. I wish I did. But I have stored this one away safely anyhow, marking it for good.

Of Interest Lately

In no order:
1. This pile of candy, brought by our most recent houseguests, all the way from Austria and Slovakia. Of particular interest to me is the little "Mozart ball" right in front which has several layers of sweets, finishing with marzipan in the middle, a flavor Ted hates. More for me. 2. This pile of books, one of the many scattered through the house. There's also the pile I have put on hold at the library. I'm not actually reading any of these yet, I should add. I just look at them longingly and don't get to them because... 3. ...Abe likes to read too but rarely wants to look at them by himself, which means that we sit for long stretches reading his books. I don't mind too much because I'm super interested in browsing the children's section at our library. A huge indulgence is to go by myself, like I did this week. 4. Figuring out the most effective way of teaching a few old men in my "advanced ESL class" who are pre-literate and write like this: 5. As always, New York City. Recently, an opportunity has come up to stay there for about a month during the holidays, which we're considering (but not really seriously). Photoblogs like this one make me want to think more seriously about it.

6. Food. This place is one of my favorites, and I love reading their blog. This couple is soulful soulful soulful. I look at their blog right before bed and get the urge to bake cookies.

7. Abe's answer to us instructing him to stop doing something: "I will not do it." And he immediately stops the offending action. His language development very much interests me.

8. This guy, I'm really interested in this guy:9. Flossing.

10. This CD and the stories behind each song, all about the various Portland characters buried here in this cemetery, The Lone Fir.11. My Parents Were Awesome, where you can find photos like this:

I'm sure there are more, but Abe is now sitting on my lap asking to watch movie trailers, his newest interest.