So long, Farewell

I have lost my desire to blog. So I'll say so long for now until....

Dear Dad,

Thanks for letting us come and help you in the small ways that we could. I know it wasn't easy for you sometimes with 3 little girls running around being, well...little girls, and disturbing your much needed rest. I appreciate how hard it must have been to let go of your domain, and let someone else DO for you what you normally do for yourself. Thank you. I love you. (After the marathon leaf raking at your house, I laughed when I rolled into our driveway at home to find that our few trees had dumped their leaves while I was gone.)

And Mom, you're the best: for patiently helping this first time sewer complete her crazy Halloween costume project; for putting in the zippers and sewing around the "round" parts of the pattern when I was too intimidated; for never saying, "Stoopid, what were you thinking to try such an ambitious project your first time out!" I'll send the girls to you should they ever express the desire to learn to sew, 'cause we both found out I have no patience or real aptitude for it!

African. American. Both. And Neither.

It struck me tonight: I have now spent more time out of Africa than I spent in it. And the truth is, I don't feel any different now than I did when I left Africa 19 years ago. I feel as at-home here as I did when I first returned to the U.S. to go to university, and as foreign. I don't know what to call myself; I am neither African nor American, and yet I'm both.
This is one of the strange dichotomies of being a Third Culture Kid: always feeling at ease where ever you go, yet never really belonging. I am a nomad who longs for a home and can't seem to find it.

The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff: A Review

This amazing book of historical fiction is really two stories. There is Ann Eliza Young's story taking place between the mid and late 1800's. She caused scandal and outrage within her Mormon community when she separated and sued for a divorce from her powerful prophet husband Brigham Young, the successor of Joseph Smith. She became instrumental in ending polygamy in Utah. Concurrently, it is also the story of Jordan Scott, in modern day Utah/Arizona, -a Lost Boy- clandestinely trying to find out who really killed his polygamist father in an attempt to save his own mother (a 19th wife), who stands accused of the crime.

Each person's story is told in alternating sections, and both stories are told in first person, past tense. The author used a unique approach, making the sections in the past read like historical documents: "Part history class, part expose, part love story..." says USA Today. I loved that aspect of the book, because the line between truth and fiction IS blurred. I thought the author did a superb job of pointing out, time and again, both by the way he wrote the book and through his characters' narrations that history is subjective; indeed, TRUTH is subjective: there isn't THE truth, there is only ever A truth.

A deep, compelling, heartrending, unforgettable, well-worth-my-money book. This would make an excellent book club read; lots of excellent discussion material. It deals with the problems inherent in a polygamous society, still of relevance today. It deals with the unsavory side of the settlement in Utah. And, in a way ('though this may not have been the author's intent), it is a morality tale about religious fervour going too far - something we see over and over again in the history of man.

The Best-Loved Doll, written by Rebecca Caudill and illustrated by Elliot Gilbert: A Review

If you haven't read this book, it's a little gem. First published in 1962, this sweet story is about a little girl named Betsy and her dolls. One day Betsy is invited to a party and instructed in the invitation to bring one doll to the party. "Prizes will be given for the oldest doll, the best-dressed doll, the doll who can do the most things," reads the invitation.

Who will Betsy pick? Find out which choice she makes, and the wise mother who pays special tribute to her choice in this charming story that little girls will love.

An excellent and fairly quick read-aloud.

What's your book appetite?

Are you a one-at-a-timer or a book glutton?

Hi, my name is Megan (Hi, Megan) and I am a book glutton. I always have at least four books going at any given time. I rotate between them based on my mood. My TBR pile comprises 2 piled-in-layers book shelves. And then there's the pile of library books that comes home every couple of weeks.
My husband, on the other hand, is a staunch one-at-a-timer, and constantly shakes his head at my in-various-stages-of-progress books scattered around the house. He clamps his lips closed when he sees me pick up yet another book to add to the TBR shelf. And rolls his eyes at the bulging and overflowing library tote.
I can't help myself. Books are my drug of choice. And there is nothing worse than the there's-nothing-to-read feeling.

Sacred Hearts by Sarah Dunant: A Review

During the late 1500's, it had become so expensive for families to give their daughters in marriage, that most families -even wealthy ones- could only afford to marry off one daughter. And generally the only option left for the remaining daughters was the convent and life as a nun, bringing with them a small dowry.


This story takes place in the year 1570, and Serafina (the name given her as a Novice) is endowed to the convent of Santa Caterina at sixteen years of age. Her hysteria at finding herself in this position brings her under the watchful eye of Suora Zuana, the Dispensary Mistress, a middle-aged nun whose advent into the convent years before was due to her doctor father's death.


This story revolves mainly around these two women, (although other nuns play large roles) and takes place solely inside the convent. It is a story of the politics, religious fervor, boredom, intrigues, and relationships that are enmeshed in the lives of the inhabitants of this convent.


The author does not sentimentalize the lives of these women; in fact, the narrative is quite bleak and harsh at times. And yet at the same time, the humanity of these women shines through.


The author pulled me so deeply into the story that every time my kids pulled at my sleeves to get my attention, I had to shake myself to get back into my life and time. It was a hard book to read from that standpoint. I came away with a new respect and empathy for these women who had no choices in life, yet who made a life within the life that happened to them.

Some thoughts I had as I read (Don't read these if you haven't read the book, as they might not make sense.):

• Did the girls' families know what life would be like for them inside the convent? I would say, probably not. It was considered an honor to have a family member who was a nun or priest. For although families got to visit the nuns, I doubt that the life they led was ever discussed, out of loyalty to the Church, more than anything. I think it is human nature not to want to discuss the problems of your religion. And even if they did know, what else was there for them?
• These women could, especially under a good abbess, be put where their strengths would serve the Convent best. And where else in that day and age could you have women apothecaries/healers freely able to work without a man's supervision?
• I think the author nailed on the head the religious fervour that can grip a community that is so closed. But you even see that fervour in religious communities that aren't as closed as a convent.
• Because I am going through my own crisis of faith, I could fully empathize with Suora Zuana, who had never seen God or any miraculous manifestations of him, and was slightly bothered by that. She went through the motions of prayer more for the continuity and the comfort she felt in the rote of it, rather than because she received any spiritual help from it. At least that was my take on her spiritual life.
• Even as powerful as the nuns were within their community, still they had to answer to the priest. This resonated with me even as a Mormon, because it is that way in our religion too.
• Then there's the perennial question: do the ends justify the means?
• The author does not to divulge Serafina's real pre-convent name until almost the end of the book. I thought that was a master-stroke, since -as she says through her character- names have power.

First Lost Tooth

Olivia has lost her first tooth the natural way. (Her bottom front teeth were pulled by the dentist.) For two days the tooth has been hanging by a thread of skin and twisted up in an odd way because her adult tooth had already broken through the gum line.

This afternoon, thanks to a good hard shove from her sister that sent her sprawling face first on the floor, out it popped. Olivia's anger evaporated very quickly when she realized her tooth was out.

Sisters are so helpful sometimes!

:: The crazy crooked tooth (she wants me to show you this) ::

:: Tooth gone! ::

It's important to know how to use the phone

"Mom, come to my party at my house!" said Karina.

So I went, 'cause she promised it would a rockin' good time.

As I walk toward her bedroom door, she darts ahead of me and slams the door before I reach it. So, understanding my duty as a good guest, I knock on her door.

"Oh, hello! It's so nice to see you! Welcome to my party. Won't you come in? Here, sit here," she instructs, patting the rocker seat. I obediently sit.

"Would you mind holding my phone? It might ring and I have to go check on my baby. I just got home from the hospital you know. Oh, it's ringing, could you please answer it?"

I look at the strange contraption in my hand.

"Shall I tell them you're busy?" I ask, holding the whole thing up to my ear.

"Moommm, you have to take it off its charger base! Like this."

I'm getting too old for the modern technology.

Vacation!

We'll be heading West in a week for an extended vacation with my family. See you in September!

"Ramona Quimby!"

We finished our latest read-aloud this morning: Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. Beezus is the long suffering, much beleaguered older sister to Ramona, a four-year-old who lives life on her own terms. Beezus suspects Ramona deliberately tries to make her life miserable. The story is told from Beezus' point of view as she deals with the antics of a little sister that she sometimes doesn't love.

My girls loved this story, and I think both of them could identify with the characters in their own way. There were lots of comments from both of them throughout the reading when they recognized the similarities to their own life.

I am fortunate that my own four-year-old is not as a rule as mischievous as Ramona, but she definitely has her moments. One of those moments came this morning not long after we finished reading, and Karina dumped a ton of junk into Susanna's crib, just for the heck of it. When I walked into the bedroom and saw it, I fisted my hands on my hips and exclaimed exasperatedly and loudly "Ramona Quimby!!" Karina went off into a fit of giggles as she immediately caught on, and still giggling, went to remove the stuff.

Olivia loves to read the book herself. It's still startling to me that she can read so well. Today after we finished the book, she wanted to go back to chapter 4 and read it to me because I had missed it. "This is so hilarious, you have to hear it!" she enthused. (A friend babysat for us so we could go to Wicked, and read that chapter to them. Thanks, Kathy!) So Olivia proceeded to read me Ramona's escapade with the apples while Beezus was babysitting her. And she does not read in a wooden, monotone voice. She uses all the inflection she does in her own speech. It's fun to see her so excited about reading!

Girl's Night In

The girls and I were on our own tonight, since Todd went to see "Angels and Demons" with a friend (lucky guy!) So we had a girl's night and watched "Springtime with Roo"- not very stimulating for Mom but the girls were happy. They wanted treats for their movie night, and since I had no desire to drag 3 girls to the store just for treats, I made an old stand-by favorite from childhood: Peanut Butter Balls. (When we were little and wanted a quick sweet treat, my mom would either make No-Bake Oatmeal Cookies or Peanut Butter Balls.)

In a bowl mix together 1/2 cup of peanut butter, 1/2 cup of honey and 1/2 - 3/4 of dry milk powder. The measurements are really just approximates. You are also going to have to get in there with your hands and knead it. That's the part the kids love. The finished consistency should be like playdough (the old fashioned kind, made with flour.) Pinch off some dough, roll it into a bite-sized ball and eat! Or you can roll the balls in desiccated coconut, chopped nuts, chocolate flakes, sprinkles, etc. We rolled ours tonight in coconut, leaving a few plain ones for Susanna.

"Just another day in Paradise"

Today the weather was a wonderful 89 degrees with very low humidity! I'm not being sarcastic; it felt positively delicious after the nasty 100+ degree, high humidity days we've been having for the last few weeks. We spent most of the day outside, playing, eating...that is, when I wasn't digging 2 teeny Polly Pocket shoes out of each nostril of my four-year-old's nose. (And it's pointless, of course, asking her why she put them in there. She couldn't tell you.)

I was really afraid for a moment that I couldn't get them out, because she was freaked out and not wanting to listen. Fortunately, despite her hysteria, she followed my directions ("Breathe only through your mouth, honey"), and after I explained what I was going to do, she held very still. Using my trusty tweezers and Mag light, I was able to pull them out. Whew!

Can I say for the millionth time: I HATE POLLY POCKET SHOES!

*For those of you without little girls, Polly Pockets are wee little dolls that come with rubber-type clothes and tiny accessories -namely shoes- that are surely the most sadistic thing toy manufacturers have come up with. Ask any Mom who has stepped on those suckers in the middle of the night!

To make living art...

Take some acrylic paint and one 21-month-old girl, mix and...

Voila...a masterpiece! (The huge amount of clean-up required is incidental!)