Innovation

Every once in a while a book comes along that causes a disruption in the force.  It changes things.  It makes you see the medium of book making and writing and reading in entirely new and unforeseen avenues.

Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick was such a book for me.

Selznick was the mastermind behind The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which I admit, I haven't read.  If any of you have seen the movie HUGO, it was based on that book.  The movie was lovely.  I should probably read the book.

Wonderstruck, follows two story lines that intertwine, mostly at the end.  It's the story of a deaf girl in the 1920's who has to find her place in the world, and a boy in the 1970's who becomes deaf and unable to communicate in anything other than writing.  While the story was worthwhile and interesting, it wasn't the story that intrigued me.  It was the fact that half of the book was done in black and white sketches.  Half the story was told without words.  I realize that for picture books, this has been done many times to great effect.  However, in a middle grade, or YA book, I haven't heard of anything being done like that outside graphic novels (which are entirely different).  The drawings were beautiful and descriptive in a way words cannot be.  They brought forward a new sort of storytelling for me.  A more adult form of picture book.  A profound form.

Aside from that, I love the title.  What a word!  Wonderstruck.  It brings to mind the same feeling that awesome used to inspire.  Awe struck.  Wonderstruck.  I love it.

Selznick has taken two creative processes and combined them to tell a story.  He has taken a middle grade novel and a picture book and combined them.  I loved the way it made me feel like I was participating in something worth noting. 

Creativity can be a scary thing to unleash, especially when it's different from what everyone else is doing.  But this was beautiful.  Definitely worth picking up.

Things I Learned While My Husband Was On A Business Trip

Things I learned while my husband was on a business trip:

Dishes and laundry still have to be done.
Children are crankier when Mom is in charge all day and all night.
Both sides of the bed don't get warm when there's only one person in it.
Texting can make me laugh out loud.
Children get away with eating a lot more junk because I just don't care. (Make the whining stop!)
Sleeping is a security risk, as I can't hear intruders as well.
I am willing to poke said  intruders in the eye with a sword-shaped letter opener. (It's the only weapon we have currently.)
It's not such a relief to get the kids to bed when there's no one waiting on the couch to talk to me.
Four days can be really long.
Every time the phone makes a noise, I leap to answer.
I don't mind so much if I'm grumpy because no one is there to take me to task.
I really like having my husband around.

It's not the first time we've been apart (the longest was three months a few years ago), but every time he's had to go I'm reminded again why I like him.

And while I really love my children, and love having them around, it's still nice having a second pair of hands to make their care a little easier.

It's been a long week.

The New Year's Dilemma

This is the season of resolution.

Determination.

Drive.

Motivation.

Choose your own noun and place it here.

So why does it start with staying up late, and sometimes breaking the law, and kissing people you don't know well, and gorging on treats until the wee hours of morning?

Let's get into a little Mandi History.  I am the youngest child in my family, and so I was always the designated babysitter for my older siblings when they had their own children.  As far as I can remember, the first time I was allowed to stay up until midnight to welcome in the new year, I was babysitting my sister's small children.  It was a little disappointing.  Add into the fact that my parents woke us up at 6 AM every school morning, and in this way discouraged the ability to enjoy staying up late.

I can remember only one time in my entire life going out with friends for new year's.  It was really, really cold.

I read a book by Sharon Shinn last year in which they had a bonfire to welcome in the new year.  The story explained how the characters took things that represented some aspect of the old year and they burned them.  Then burned things that represented what they hoped for the new year.  Since I'm a closet pyromanic, this idea appealed to me.  We tried it last year, to less than stellar results.  Once again, it was really cold.  And our big, bright bonfire was reduced to a tiny spark in an abandoned charcoal grill.

This year, my husband and I said "Bag it" to the whole idea and I read my way into the new year while he played video games.  A friendly neighboring trailer park set off a round of illegal fireworks that rattled our windows.  At least I got a kiss.  It was from my husband.  The kids slumbered their way into 2013.

Call me a humbugger if you'd like, and you'd probably be right, but New Year's Eve is lame.

May 2013 be a better year than the one before it, and despite its uninspired birth, I wish you happy in it.

Mele Kalikimaka

I got a ukelele for Christmas.

Let me say that again.

I GOT A UKELELE FOR CHRISTMAS!

(Can you hear the smile in my voice along with the hurt fingers that have yet to stop throbbing?)  I printed off two songs to learn and I feel sorta like a rockstar when I sing them as I play. I worry a little about our upstairs neighbors who probably want to smash my new toy Hulk-style. 

Confession:  Thinking about all the times those neighbors have left the house without turning off their alarm clock, makes me want to play and sing louder and louder.  And maybe louder.  So they can't escape the constant beep, beep, beep, no matter where they go in their house and get a taste of their own medicine. 

Ahem. 

Christmas was lovely wasn't it?  For my friends on the other side of the world from me it was bright and warm.  Here in Utah, it was white and marshmallow-y.  Perfect on both counts.

Now that we've established that Christmas was brilliant, I must dash off and print some more songs.  Since I'm a rockstar, I must have a larger repertoire. 

As Promised

I know you've all been dying to see the beautiful pictures of our beautiful Christmas tree.  I'm warning you... it is picture perfect. (Just not perfect pictures.)

I left the lights on because I trees always look better with lights.  I wanted to draw your attention to the star on the top, courtesy of my daughter.  

We were lucky and got a few donations from other people, so we have more than just five decorations and our homemade goodies.  

I know, I know, you're all jealous and can't wait to go home and un-decorate whatever silly things you've put on your own trees to make them look more like mine.  Well, I'm sorry to have to show you the way Christmas Trees are supposed to look, and make you all feel bad about your own.  Sometimes love is tough.

Here's to wishing you all the best of the season.

Sap and Contemplation Don't Mix

I must have childhood on the brain.  I think Christmastime demands that of many of us.

How many of you have heard Taylor Swift's song "Never Grow Up"?  I fully admit to being a fan of her music, even if that makes me a wannabe teeny-bopper.  (I don't wanna be a teeny-bopper, just for the record.  It was hard enough the first time.)  Anyway, I was listening to that song, and I sat in front of the speaker and cried big, hot tears.

My babies, all  three of them, are growing up, even though we tell them and tell them not to.  We even threaten them, and still they sprout.

I'm of two minds about this.  Yes, I'm selfish and want them to be ALL MINE for the rest of their lives and the rest of mine.  I want them always to run to me when they're hurt and to be able to make everything all better with a hug and some soft words.  I always want them to be small enough to pull into my lap and think that their mom is the best and brightest.

In the other mind, I am so proud of their continued accomplishments.  It's amazing to see the ways they display their sense of self and show the world what they're made of.  I love that blazing look of triumph when they've accomplished something they had to work hard for.  I love it when they "get" my jokes and understand new concepts. (Though, admittedly, getting my jokes doesn't necessarily mean understanding anything but puns.)

My husband is fond of saying that parenthood is the only job where your goal is to make yourself obsolete.

How do we make those opposing minds meld?  How do we give our hearts and time and lives fully to these little humans and feel fine about it when we've accomplished our job and they no longer need us? 

See?  This is what that horrid-looking Christmas tree has done to me.  It makes me see childhood as something precious and fleeting and something to be savored.  Blech.  Or Bah Humbug, as my husband says continuously this time of year. 

Speaking of the tree... well, thanks Becca for the orange slice suggestion.  So far, that's the nicest looking thing about the seven-foot monolith taking up half the living room.  That, and my daughter's paper star perched lopsidedly at the top.

Ah... childhood.

Trimmings on the Cheap

This year we finally have a big tree, but I realized that we have five ornaments to fill up a seven foot tree.  Five.

That's what happens when you move around the world and don't take anything with you.

So, I decided to get creative, which honestly doesn't happen that often.

I found a book from the seventies that describes how to make homemade decorations.  So, we're going to make pretzel ornaments with ribbons woven through.  I'm sure you've seen these high class beauties at boutique stores such as Tiffany's.  (I know Tiffany's isn't a boutique store.  I know pretzel ornaments aren't high class, nor beautiful.  This is called tongue in cheek.)  The greatest thing about pretzel ornaments is that they are relatively inexpensive and you can make a lot of them with ribbon and a glue gun.

Next project: stringing cranberries.  It's just that big step up from stringing popcorn.  And the red berries really *pop* against the green tree.

For our final project, we're going to get complicated.  I'm not sure what this crafty gem is called, so I'll describe the process.  Soak cotton string in glue, then wrap that around a blown up balloon and let it dry.  Then you pop the balloon and spray paint it the color of your choice. (Our's will be red and white.)

So, for those of you who want to be on the cutting edge of haute couture fashion in Christmas Tree trimming, you've found your source for inspiration.  Search no more.

Maybe I'll get brave and figure out how to post a picture of our arboreal stunner when it's done.

Then you'll see that there's a reason I don't get creative very often.