Happier at Home by Gretchen Rubin

I think I've made it pretty clear how much I loved The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. But in case you've somehow missed it, here it is plain and obvious: I love that book. It was one of my favorite books of 2012, I think about some aspect of it almost daily (not kidding), and I feel like it really did empower me to be ME. So it should come as no surprise that I absolutely had to read Happier at Home, a sequel of sorts that came out last September. Of course I did. The alternative (that would be not reading it) wasn't even considered.

And if it was possible, I was even more excited starting this one than when I started The Happiness Project. Partly because I knew what a treat I was in for, but also because her focus with this project was being happier at home, which, since I'm a stay-at-home mom, is where I spend the majority of my day.

Gretchen's first project lasted a full year and went from January through December. This one followed the school year and began in September and ended in May. She followed the same format as the first project, where she selected a theme, or focus, for each month (marriage, parenthood, neighborhood, etc.) and then outlined specific goals ("give gold stars," "underreact to a problem," "be a tourist without leaving home," etc.).

I think one reason I love these books so much is that I feel a certain kinship with Gretchen (which is why I can't seem to refer to her by just her last name). Maybe if we met in real life, we would find we wouldn't have anything in common, but more likely, I suspect we'd have a lot in common, but I'd just be so far her inferior that I wouldn't be able to carry on an intelligent conversation with her. At any rate, this book probably would not resonate so deeply with me except that her goals and interests and fears and weaknesses so closely match mine that reading about them is far more interesting to me than it would be if I were reading about someone who decided to increase their happiness by traveling extensively or getting a makeover or planning elaborate parties.

I'm not going to go through and list all the ways I think Gretchen and I are similar--that would not only be boring but also look extremely pretentious. But I will just mention one because it surprised me and also made me feel not so...weird. In October, Gretchen's focus is "marriage," and one of the ways she decides to improve her marriage is by taking driving lessons (so she can share this responsibility with her husband). Although she knows how to drive (and in the past, drove daily in such big cities as Kansas City and Washington D.C.), ever since moving to New York City, she has let her husband handle all of the driving. Not only is she a little anxious and scared to drive, she just doesn't like it. Oh, how I can relate! I have never liked driving and basically only got my license when I was 18 so I'd have some form of ID before going to college. I got away without driving for several years, but after having Aaron, I knew I had to do something about my fear; Mike couldn't chauffeur me around to every playdate, doctor's appointment, and shopping venture. I forced myself to get in the car, and now, several years later, driving doesn't scare me half to death (although I still don't like underground parking or freeway interchanges), but, like Gretchen, I still don't like it. In the book, she comes to accept that driving will never be something she loves, and I don't think I'll ever love it either, but I've definitely come to a point that I'm okay with it. (Yes, I did just compare New York City driving to Salt Lake City driving, but give me a break.)

As I mentioned in my first review, for all the ways I feel my personality is similar to Gretchen Rubin's, we differ in one (pretty important) way: Where she is not religious really at all, my religion is a very important part of my life and, indeed, how I define myself. In fact, who I am is so completely entwined with my relationship with my Heavenly Father that I don't know who I even would be if I took away that part of my life. So if anything is lacking from this book for me, it is the spiritual side of it (which is why I loved reading about Melanie's happiness project because it's everything Gretchen's project is but with the spiritual dimension added).

I wanted to mention just a few of Gretchen's goals that really impacted me personally:

"Make the positive argument" was one of Gretchen's goals in October when she decided to focus on her marriage. She noticed that so often when she got annoyed with her husband, it triggered other annoyances. I've noticed this in my own life as well. Sometimes I think, "Mike forgot to take out the trash," and that leads to, "He also didn't pick up his clothes in the bathroom," and that is invariably followed by, "He left the bed unmade, too, even though he was the last one up." Gretchen says that people can usually take either side of an argument and make a good case for it and that flipping our point of view can do wonders to fix the problem. So for example, if I'm thinking, "Mike is not a helpful person because of this, this, and this," I can just as easily say, "Mike is a helpful person because of that, that, and that." This is something so small and simple, but you wouldn't believe the way it instantly changes the way I feel about someone or something.

In January, Gretchen's focus was time, and one of her goals was to "suffer for fifteen minutes," which basically boiled down to forcing herself to spend fifteen minutes a day on something she had been putting off and didn't want to do. I always feel so much happier when I get rid of those little nagging tasks, but I like the idea of only spending fifteen minutes a day on it because then I'm not worried I'm going to be toiling away for hours on something that's not fun.

I loved her idea in March (focus: family) to "follow a threshold ritual," which means that anytime she comes home, she thinks this thought: "How happy I am, how grateful I am, to be home." I really like the idea of building happiness in your life just by implementing little rituals that force you to remember what you're grateful for. It reminds me of my grandma who told me that anytime I saw beautiful clouds, I should think of her, and to this day, even though she died more than ten years ago, whenever I see beautiful, fluffy white clouds, I can instantly see her face and hear her voice.

I have to say I chuckled about her goal to perform "nonrandom acts of kindness." She said that while random acts of kindness bring happiness to the giver, the emotion they usually arouse in the receiver is one of suspicion. I totally agree! And I also think that even when I don't react suspiciously to a random gift, I'm usually happier when I know who it actually was who was thinking about me.

Some reviews have mentioned that this book was too similar to The Happiness Project. I agree that even though the goals are different, a lot of the information is the same (the references to her commandments, Secrets of Adulthood, and Splendid Truths, as well as some of her research and frustrations with her own shortcomings). However, this repetition didn't bother me a bit. In fact, I was very grateful she did repeat as much as she did. I had been debating rereading The Happiness Project but instead I got to read a new book that still had all of the ideas I loved and wanted to be reminded of plus some new things to hold my attention.

As much as I have loved Gretchen's books, I have to admit, I haven't loved her website. I've looked at it a few times, but honestly, it doesn't feel like it's written by the same person. The ideas are all the same, but I don't feel the same passion or originality underneath. I can't explain it, and the only reason I'm bringing it up here is just in case any of you have looked at her website and decided based on that, that you probably wouldn't like the book. I just don't think you can compare the two.

Even though I have gushed about her work several times, I do realize that her books aren't for everyone, particularly I think they might not be helpful if you've been through an especially tragic trial, like losing a loved one or dealing with a life-threatening illness. I could be wrong, but it seems like in such a case, some of her goals and commentary might just seem a little superficial and naive. I hope I'm not dissuading you from reading it--I just wanted to add that caveat and also say that you won't hurt my feelings if you don't love it because I can totally see how someone might not.

And now, just when you thought I might not ever be quiet, guess what? I'm almost done. Towards the end of the book, Gretchen makes this statement, and I think it captures one of the reasons why I am so inspired by her happiness projects: "I do best what comes naturally. When I pursue a goal that's right for me, my progress comes quickly and easily; when I pursue a goal that's wrong for me, my progress feels blocked. Now I try not to fight that sense of paralysis, but rather see it as a helpful clue to self-knowledge." Lately I've been more willing to embrace the real me and also strive for the me I want to become.

The Evelyn Wood Seven-Day Speed Reading and Learning Program by Stanley D. Frank

For as long as we have been married, Mike and I have been avid fans of financial guru and radio show host, Dave Ramsey. We love him for his plain talk, his ridiculously sensible ideas, and his relentless tirade against debt. If we are driving somewhere after 7:00 some evening, we almost always turn on Dave to catch a few of his conversations with people who are woefully in debt.

Occasionally, he will talk to someone who is thousands of dollars in debt but who only makes $20,000-$30,000 a year, which means that the climb out of debt will be a slow, difficult one. In those cases, Dave will usually tell them to, first, stop wasting money, but also, increase their income, whether it's by adding another job (or two) or looking for a different, higher paying job (or occasionally, going back to school, although he generally discourages this if it's going to add a great deal more to their already suffocating debt).

Believe it or not, in spite of the financial introduction, I am going to bring this conversation around to books. As you know, even though I read a great deal, I am extremely slow. For the last few years, I have been reading an average of 52 books a year. I have so many books I want to read that I just keep thinking about how nice it would be if I could read closer to 100 books per year (or even more!). The problem is, I am already trying to use all my spare minutes to read: I read while blow drying my hair, brushing my teeth, putting Bradley to bed, washing the dishes (audio book), riding in the car, etc. In other words, and to tie the first two paragraphs into this one, I have maxed out my available income. I need to make more money, but obviously, I can't add more hours to the day (though I so wish I could!). So the only other option is to read faster.

And that is why I checked out, The Evelyn Wood Seven-Day Speed Reading and Learning Program. Such a nerdy title, I know. But, honestly, what would have sounded better? Seven Days to a Speedier You? Find Your Inner Speed Reader? Break the Subvocal Barrier in Just Seven Days? I'm sorry, speed reading is just nerdy, no matter how you phrase it.

And hold onto your seats because it's only going to get nerdier (and I'll now try to stop using that word).

I probably would have never checked out this book on my own because, well, because it sounds...like that one word I said I wouldn't say again.  But my brother was taking a "surviving college reading" class at BYU, and they used this book as part of the course, so I figured there would at least be something valuable in it. And there was.

Born in 1909, Evelyn Wood was the first person to really analyze and study what made fast readers fast. She devised a number of hand gestures and tests to help people increase their reading speeds and turned all her findings and methods into a seminar called Evelyn Wood Speed Reading Dynamics. Stanley D. Frank, who wrote this book, took her methods and taught them all over the country.

Towards the beginning of the book, you are asked to take an initial speed reading test. (As a side note, one thing that I appreciated is that these reading tests just used the text of the book, so you didn't have to read about something random like turtles on the coast of Florida.) The average person reads 250 words per minute. During that first test, I clocked in at 230 wpm. I was not at all surprised. I already knew I was slow.

Then he gives you the most basic of techniques: underlining the lines as you read them. After practicing this for a few pages, you take another test. This time, my speed was 306 wpm. It has actually been kind of amazing to employ this technique because I can tell that I instantly start reading faster as soon as I begin moving my finger across the page, and as soon as I stop, I slow back down (which, incidentally, is very frustrating).

There are two types of reading: subsonic (or subvocal) and super sonic. Subsonic reading is horizontal, moving across the page left to right, line by line. It's also sometimes referred to as subvocal because you are theoretically reading slow enough that you're "saying" the word in your head. Subsonic reading caps out at about 900 wpm. Super sonic reading is vertical, where your eyes move down the page in one fluid sweep. It's very visual--you can take in large groups of words at one time. Super sonic readers can read anywhere from 1200-10,000+ wpm (crazy to think about, I know). (The 900-1200 wpm range is a dark area you don't want to be in--basically your brain can't decide if you're reading linearly or vertically, and it just doesn't work).

I, myself, have very realistic goals: By March, I'd like to be reading at 600 wpm. That's more than twice as fast as I was reading at the beginning of the year, which means that a book that normally takes me a week to read would only take me three or four days. I actually have no desire to break the subvocal barrier. At 600 wpm, reading will essentially still be the same experience for me, just a little faster. But if you begin reading vertically, it's completely different. I want to read slow enough that I can still savor words and phrases and spend actual time living in the book. If you read at 5,000-6,000 wpm, the book is essentially over before you've had time to immerse yourself in the plot and characters. (Here I am, acting like I even could read 5,000-6,000 wpm; I'm pretty sure my personality would make it impossible for me to ever get that fast.)

I'm sure a lot of you speed readers out there don't even have to think about going fast. You just go. But for me, I'm finding that I really have to concentrate on it. If I devote a chunk of time and use the underlining or S motion techniques, I can go fast(er), but I have to consciously be trying. Hopefully, the more I work at it, the faster I'll become. The good news it, I haven't noticed my comprehension going down, which was one of the main things I was worried about.

And finally, I have to tell you that this book made me laugh out loud in several places, and I had to go back and read those sections to Mike because I just found them so funny. These sections weren't supposed to be funny, but they were, in part because the author is just a little too serious in some places, but also because it was written in 1990, so some of it is really dated. For your reading pleasure, here are a few of my favorites:

• "...you will do well to write down a brief list of the required materials for a study session before starting. Then, when these things are assembled in plain sight, you can proceed with the assurance that you have at hand all the basic items necessary to do your best work."
• "At the end of each line, lift your fingers one-fourth to one-half inch above the page." (See what I mean by the need for practice? I'm still raising my hand five-eighths of an inch off the page. Totally unacceptable.)
• "Choose a chair that's comfortable but upright." 
• "To break in a book, place it on your desk or another flat surface so that it rests on its spine, on the binding. Then open both the front and back covers slowly, until they rest flat on the table...Allow a few pages from each side of the book to flop down toward the desk, and run your thumb or a finger down the inner margin, against the inner binding, to flatten the pages out..." (and this explanation keeps going and going and going...).
• "The first thing you should do to become an efficient page-turner is assume an active attitude." (That one gets me every time.)
• "Finally, he began stapling the papers to one another in their appropriate sequence, with the top of each attached to the bottom of the one preceding. (Clear tape would have done just as well.)" (Clear tape! I never would have thought of that! And I'm so glad to know clear tape meets with the approval of Evelyn Wood's standard of excellence.)
• "As you already know if you have one, a word processor can be an invaluable tool when you begin to write. On most of these computers you can move text about, make inserts and deletions freely, and type more quickly with such advantages as the 'wrap-around' feature, which eliminates the need to return the typewrite carriage." (We've come a long way since 1990.)

Sorry, I'll stop now. There were just so many I wanted to share!

If nothing else, this book empowered me to take my slow reading into my own hands and do something about it. It was kind of one of those things where I recognized it as something I wanted to improve, but I had no idea how to do it. Now I have some tools and also some motivation.

I'm curious if any of you have consciously increased your reading speed and how you've done it? Are there any other books out there that address this topic and are a little less dated?

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle by Betty MacDonald

Time and again, I find myself drawn to books I have fond childhood memories of but other than that, can't remember a thing about them. Such is the case with Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. I can't see the cover without instantly being back on my parents' bed, reading by the glow of the reading lights that were attached to the top of their headboard. I know my mom also read these books aloud but my most vivid memories are of me re-reading them by myself.

Lucky for me, now when I have a desire to stroll down memory lane, I drag my kids along with me.

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle is the ideal grandma...times ten. Although she never had any children of her own (and therefore, not any real grandchildren either), she has loved and been loved by hundreds of neighborhood kids over the years. She lets them dig up buried treasure in the backyard, wear her high heels around the house, and fix her hair in a plethora of "fashionable" styles. But besides being incredibly keen with what children will like, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle also knows exactly how to make them behave...and how to cure all their bad habits. So it is that all the neighborhood mothers come to Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle with their most challenging discipline problems.

I don't know why I thought I needed to read a parenting book to recharge my parenting battery; Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle already had all the answers! If my children won't take a bath, then I should just stop forcing them and wait until they are so dirty I can plant radish seeds all over them. If they're being selfish with their possessions, then I should promptly label and lock up every single thing that belongs to them (including toothbrushes, sandwiches, and socks). And if they refuse to pick up their toys, then the solution rests in not picking up anything until their room is so messy, they've essentially trapped themselves in, at which point I should pierce their dinner onto a garden rake and squeeze it through the window so that they won't starve.

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle seems to be of the school, "Let your kids reap their own consequences (i.e., the consequence of having a room so cluttered you literally can't walk through it and let yourself out--never mind the fire hazard), and soon enough, they will decide to mend their ways." And to a certain extent, I can't say I disagree with her. Certainly letting kids learn the "hard way" before it's really the hard way is the most memorable and longest-lasting. But honestly, radishes? That cure was just too much for me even though it was one of the most entertaining.

One of the later books is Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's Magic, and I think I must be remembering that book better than the rest because when I was reading this one to Aaron and Max, I kept expecting her cures to involve magic, and not a one of them does. Instead, these are all cures you could theoretically duplicate at home, although not without a lot of pain and difficulty on your part.

Aaron and Maxwell liked Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle well enough. Some of the chapters they found uproariously funny, particularly the one with the back-talking parrot (and I was just hoping I wouldn't hear "I'll do it because I want to but not because you tell me to" the next day).

Each chapter follows a very predictable pattern: introduction of the problem behavior (ex. Joan and Anne are bickering constantly); the mother calls all her friends for advice (the father is usually next to no help); finally, someone suggests calling Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle; of course Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle has cured a dozen just such cases and gives detailed instructions; the mother follows the instructions to the letter, even if it means starving her beloved child (see Chapter 7, "The Slow-Eater-Tiny-Bite-Taker Cure," which maybe was a problem in the 40's, but I have never heard of any child doing such a thing in the present day); after a few days (or weeks), the child is cured and normal life resumes. The end. Aaron and Max loved the predictability. After the opening scene of each chapter, I would ask, "Now what is the mom going to do?" "Call her friends!" Aaron would say, and sure enough, in the next paragraph, she'd be calling Mrs. Grassfeather or Mrs. Gardenfield (these friends all had the strangest names). I, on the other hand, found the unyielding predictability a little tedious.

My main complaint though was with the ending mainly because there was, um, no ending. Period. The final chapter is about Joan and Anne and their constant quarreling, and the chapter (and the book) concludes with, "The Fighter-Quarreleritis was cured." There wasn't a final shout-out to Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, no allusion to her continuing to help and love all children, and no summary of all the great works she'd already done. It ended exactly like every other chapter before it had ended, and it left me with a very unfinished feeling.

One last heads-up: it is very much a book from the 1940's, which means a lot of aproned homemakers, well-mannered children, and of course, the dreaded physical punishment (i.e. spanking). Several of the parents mention this (usually with a trace of humor), but some modern parents might not find this so funny. Personally, I am not a spanker (although I can't say there haven't been moments when I've wanted to), but I didn't mind this being a part of the story.

Anyway, for just some good, ol' fashioned fun and some really outlandish parenting solutions, I think you'd enjoy Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle.

I'm sharing this post with The Children's Bookshelf and the Kid Lit Blog Hop.

Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting by Pamela Druckerman

I read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother several years ago. I loved it. I was so interested to see how Chinese parenting differed from American parenting. I viewed it strictly as a memoir, not as a parenting manual, but nonetheless, I found myself agreeing with a great deal of it.

So when Pamela Druckerman's book came out about French parenting, instead of rolling my eyes like so many and complaining, "Why do we have to read about another country's superior parenting," I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.

And just like Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, I found it absolutely fascinating.

I've decided if you're going to read books with parenting as a theme, this is the way to do it: part memoir, part parenting how-to. (For the record, I would say Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother was almost all memoir whereas Bringing Up Bébé is about half and half.) Of course, I will still always love my nerdy parenting manuals (The Parenting Breakthrough, Love and Logic Magic, etc.), but it is so fun to read an account of someone else's life and the discoveries about parenting they made along the way.

Which is exactly what happens in Bringing Up Bébé. Pamela Druckerman is American. Her husband is British. And they live in France. After their first child, a daughter they call "Bean," is born, Pamela begins to notice some blatant differences between French children and her own child. For example, French babies "do their nights" (aka, begin sleeping through the night) somewhere between three and six months (and many much earlier than that), whereas Bean is not even close to sleeping through the entire night when she hits the six-month mark. She also notices other trends: French children sit quietly at mealtime, eat a wide variety of foods, and don't throw tantrums when they're told to be patient and wait.

Now if you're like me, reading that last paragraph maybe fired up a little healthy indignation: "Well, my child slept through the night at six weeks!" (confession: mine didn't, but I know plenty of American babies who do). Or, "My nephew prefers lettuce over pizza" (true story). "He is a very well-rounded eater." Or, "You should see this mom in my neighborhood. Her kids obey faster than soldiers in the army." And so I had to remind myself (many times) that for the sake of making a believable argument, Druckerman had to make generalizations on both sides (and she's quick to acknowledge that in all cases they are that: generalizations). Of course just because you're an American parent doesn't mean you have to make your child the center of the universe. And just because you're a French parent doesn't mean you won't have a child who balks against the nation's standards. It's all in perspective. Depending on the research, you could probably make a case for the opposite side of the argument. It doesn't change the fact that much of the research cited here in this book is still solid, reputable research (regardless of how it might be twisted to put French parenting in an extremely favorable light). 

Here's how I handled my own haughty moments of pride: if it was something I agreed with (insisting that children learn to play by themselves without adult intervention), I counted it as good research. If it was something I didn't agree with (children are just as happy, emotionally healthy, and smart being in daycare all day instead of at home), I reminded myself that this was just a memoir. Maybe not quite fair, but it worked.

And I couldn't deny that some of her examples of American parents sounded eerily familiar.  For example, when she described a mother in New York City who followed her child around at the park and narrated everything he did ("You're upside down! We came to the park! We came to the park!"), I felt certain she was describing the same mother I saw at the park last summer. The funny thing is that when I'm around mothers like that, I feel like I should be following my own children around, enthusiastically exclaiming over all of their activities. The reason I think it's funny is because if you held up two contrasting mothers (one who hovers and exclaims and another who sits quietly on the sidelines), I would definitely say that I wanted to be like the mom on the sidelines--present but giving my children space and freedom to explore. And yet, when I'm next to one of those overzealous mothers, I feel like we're in competition with each other and I have to prove that I'm just as attentive a mother as she is. According to Druckerman, French parents aren't like that, maybe almost to a fault in the other direction. One quote from early on in the book captured this difference perfectly: "American women typically demonstrate our commitment by worrying and by showing how much we're willing to sacrifice, even while pregnant; whereas Frenchwomen signal their commitment by projecting calm and flaunting the fact they haven't renounced pleasure" (p. 23).

The book is organized like a parenting manual with each chapter focusing on a different aspect of parenting, and I felt that give-and-take (like I described above) with every single chapter. I agreed with parts; I disagreed with others; but even when I disagreed, it didn't lessen my enjoyment of the book because beneath it all was one person's fascinating and intriguing story. And I love the details of other people's ordinary lives.

Last month, I mentioned that I was reading this book not just for pleasure but also because I felt like my own parenting could use a little pick-me-up. And it gave me just the boost I needed and empowered me to make some changes in our routines and my own expectations: one snack in the morning, one snack in the afternoon (Druckerman says the French only do an afternoon snack, but my kids wake up at 6:00am; they would never make it to lunch without a morning snack), requiring them to play downstairs in the playroom while I make dinner, making my instructions and requests more authoritative and convincing, not letting them interrupt Mike and me if we are having a conversation, and expecting Bradley to sleep through the night (never mind that at 16-months, he's well past the six-month deadline). So in this way, this book did exactly what I was hoping for.

There were times though when I really questioned the credibility of the whole French way. For example, in the chapter, "The Perfect Mother Doesn't Exist," Druckerman talks about Inès de la Fressange, a French model and mother of two daughters. Druckerman says, "She says she's an imperfect mother, too," and then she quotes de la Fressange: "I forget about morning yoga, and I always put on lip gloss and mascara in the car mirror. What's important is to rid yourself of guilt over not being perfect." I think at this point I actually laughed out loud. I wonder what de la Fressange would think if she knew that sometimes I don't even wear lip gloss or mascara, period? There were other quotes like this one where I would think, "And this is who we're taking advice from? Really?"

There were also times when I didn't really appreciate Druckerman either. She was sometimes a little crude for my taste, and I think our personalities are probably very different. Let's just say I was not surprised when she said that her first book was a "journalistic study of how different cultures treat infidelity" and was called Lust in Translation.

I listened to the audio version of this book, and I honestly don't think there is a better way to read it. It just begs to be read aloud. I thought Abby Craden did a masterful job with the multitude of accents. Druckerman frequently described the quality of a certain person's voice, and Craden interpreted each one beautifully. I think I'd be lucky to pull off one convincing French accent, and Craden probably did over a dozen different variations besides various American, British, and other European accents. Really, really impressive. Plus, I always tend to enjoy a book like this more if I can actually here what "crèche" or "goûter" is supposed to sound like instead of just brushing over it in my mind.


There's more I'd like to talk about (if you can't already tell, this would make an excellent choice for a book club discussion), but I think that's probably enough for today. I'm curious which country's parenting philosophy we'll see next? Ukranian? Ethiopian? Brazilian? No matter what, you can be sure I'll read it.

Reading With the Seasons: Be My Valentine

February is here! It's not as exciting as April or May, but hey, I'll take it.

And with February comes the unavoidable Valentine's Day. What books make you think of love and passion, loyalty and undying devotion? The more I've thought about how to "read with the season" for this month, the more I've realized that you can twist and turn just about any book and have love come up as a theme somewhere. Let's test it:

Think of a classic, any classic. For the sake of this exercise, let's choose A Tale of Two Cities. There's the lovely courtship and marriage between Lucie Manette and Charles Darnay, and there's also the enduring love of Lucie to her father. But then, of course, there's the crowning moment where Sydney Carton offers his own life on behalf of someone else. Who'd have thought the French Revolution and Valentine's Day could go together?

Too easy? Okay, how about a children's story? Say, The Cricket in Times Square? You might recall the boys and I read this recently and loved it. The friendship between Chester, Tucker, and Harry is sweet, and Chester even suffers unhappiness and discontentment so that he can help Mario and his family. All in the name of love.

I could keep going--Wonder (learning to love someone in spite of their differences), Matilda (embracing a talent that you love), Little House on the Prairie (feeling safe in the wilderness because you're with the ones you love), Stress-Free Potty Training (enduring to the end to teach an important life skill to someone you love--okay, maybe that's carrying it a bit too far)--but I think you get the point.

I haven't mapped out all the books I'm reading this month (where's the fun in that? I want to read what I feel like when I feel like it), but I do have one from the library right now that I specifically chose because it seemed more or less like a good choice for Valentine's Day: The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer (a regency romance novel about a young woman who interferes in the love lives of her cousins without realizing she's falling in love herself--at least, that's what it sounds like; I'm only a few pages in). I've been wanting to read something by Georgette Heyer for a long time now, so February seemed like the perfect month to do it. I love the saucy dialogues, the early 19th century time period, and the proper British etiquette that make up a regency romance. This should be a treat.

I have several other books I'm wanting to read this month, but I may have to do a little of the above creative manipulation to classify them as great Valentine's Day reads: Peace Like a River (family loyalty and love?), Learning All the Time (instilling a love of learning into my children?), Splendors and Glooms (because I love the Newbery?).

I've also thought about how great it would be to read some kind of relationship book this month. No matter what kind of relationship you want to strengthen (marriage, family, friends, etc.), there's a book for it. Even when I don't agree with all of the suggestions or research, these types of books always help me come away with ideas for how to improve the friendships I have with the people I love best.

Okay, so I wasn't really intending for this post to get so ridiculous, but the more I thought about books about love, the more I realized you'd be hard pressed not to find a book about love. It's human nature. It's in our blood to want to love and help and care for others, and so it's difficult to write a story and not have that innate desire come through. And who would want to read such a book anyway?

Now it's your turn: share your favorite love story (Jane Eyre! Edenbrooke! These is My Words!...sorry, I can't stop talking!), or tell me how whatever you're reading might be classified as a love story. Get creative! (And don't be shy!)

P.S. Photography credit once again goes to my awesome brother, Gordy. He's the best.

Reading With the Seasons: New Year's Wrap-up

It's the last day of January, and I am not sad to kiss (or maybe I should say kick?) this month good-bye. The arrival of February means we're one month closer to spring. Happiness.

As a farewell, here are some of the books that were suggested (or that I found throughout the month) that would be great reads to begin the new year with.

In my post at the beginning of the month, I mentioned my plan to read both Happier at Home and Bringing Up Bébé. I will be reviewing them shortly, but they were both very good and totally rejuvenated my attitude and my motivation. I also mentioned Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow, which I loved and reviewed here. I also finished A Thomas Jefferson Education.  And last, I also mentioned my nerdy speed reading book, which I'm diligently trying to implement and also The God Who Weeps, which I've been reading in small doses.

And here are a few new suggestions:

• Alli said she's reading Les Miserables (unabridged) by Victor Hugo. With the new movie, I know a lot of people who are reading or re-reading this classic.
• Kendra mentioned The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom, 5 Spiritual Solutions for Everyday Parenting Challenges by Richard and Linda Eyre, and An Invisible Thread by Laura Schroff and Alex Tresniowski. I thought all of these were great suggestions for getting the year started off right!
• Lindsay suggested some thought provoking reads: Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America by Barbara Ehrenreich and The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.
• Samantha said she was reading Villette by Charlotte Bronte--always nice to start off the year with a classic!
• At Writing Beckles, The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey was suggested as a good winter read. 
• One of the books that got some Newbery buzz (but didn't win) was Twelve Kinds of Ice by Ellen Bryan Obed--a short book of vignettes that sounds appropriately winterish. I'm saving this for next year.

And now, it's time to move onto the month of LOVE! Get ready to share and suggest your favorite love stories and relationship books tomorrow!

KidPages: Five Great Winter Books

Today as I chipped and shoved away the snow trapping my car, I looked longingly at the boys' neglected bikes and the long, long driveway and remembered what it was like (was that only a few months ago?!) to send them outside to play with nothing on except a pair of swimming shorts. Ah, sweet, sweet memories.

In the meantime, here are some books to help make this long, dreadful winter more pleasant. (Randomly, I just realized that I can't read winter books in summer because they give me anxiety just remembering that winter will someday return, but I also can't read summer books in winter because they make me bitter and resentful that it's not currently 80 degrees outside.)

Now, onto the books:

1. Snow, Cynthia Rylant, illus. Lauren Stringer
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning and find the world blanketed in white, I wish for a way to perfectly describe the beauty around me. (Because, in spite of how difficult it makes my life, even I can't deny that there are times when it is absolutely breathtaking.) But when I try to write about it, I can't think of what to say that could possibly help me remember what it looks like and what it feels like.

But somehow, Cynthia Rylant found the right words.

Snow is basically description after description of different kinds of snow. There's the "snow that comes softly in the night, like a shy friend afraid to knock" and the snow that falls "in fat, cheerful flakes while you are somewhere you'd rather not be." If you live in a snowy place, then you know exactly what she's talking about. But if you live in a warm place and wish you knew what snow was like, then read this book, and you'll know. My favorite line is: "The snow loves them back. It gives them angels and new friends," and the accompanying picture is of children playing and making snowmen and snow angels.

The illustrations are a perfect complement to the text: they capture the cold nip in the air and the feathery, wet feeling of snowflakes, and the warm comfort of going inside. There's one picture that I especially love where the snow has a pinkish hue cast over it at the end of the day.

This book reminds me that even with all the hassle and frustration and misery that snow brings, it is still, and always will be, magical.

2. Chilly Milly Moo, Fiona Ross
This is a silly one, no question. But for all its silliness, it also has a certain amount of charm and surprise that instantly delighted all of us.

Milly Moo (a cow) dislikes the heat. In fact, she is so bothered by it that she can't seem to produce any milk. The other cows don't understand it. They claim that the sun helps them make milk and think it should be the same for Milly Moo. The farmer, being not too sympathetic to her discomfort, tells her that he can't keep her if she won't make milk. Fortunately for Milly Moo, the night before her last chance, a storm hits and the temperature plunges. Suddenly Milly Moo feels quite comfortable, and when the farmer goes to milk her, she doesn't just produce cold milk but something much, much better.

The surprise ending is probably the best part of this story, but I also appreciated that it addressed some important issues, such as including those who feel left out or are different. And also recognizing that everyone contributes in different ways (Milly Moo couldn't make milk when it was hot, but the other cows couldn't make it when it was cold--all of the cows were important for different reasons).

The illustrations are simple and have a two-dimensional appearance. (The sun is just a big spiral in the sky; the grass is just little staggered lines.) They contribute to the general quirkiness and silliness of the book.

I know I need to be a little more sympathetic to the people in my life who, like Milly Moo, actually prefer the cold and snow of winter to the dry heat of summer. (I'm especially thinking of my brother, Blaine, who feels the same anxiety with the approaching summer that I feel with the approaching winter.)

3. A Perfect Day, Carin Berger
This is another book that paints snow in the best and most magical of lights. (Believe it or not, there are other less enchanting snow books out there, but I tend to need a reminder of why snow is a good thing.)

The reader follows a group of children (Emma and Leo and Otto and Willa and a whole bunch more) through the events and activities of a perfect snow day. There's the joy of making the very first tracks in the untouched white and making a snowman and a snow fort and sledding down a long hill. At the end of the day, they all go home to "warm hugs and dry clothes and steaming hot chocolate." Perfect.

The text is very simple and direct--not more than a line or two per page--but it uses those few words to tell a beautiful story. One of the things I loved is that all of the children had names. Even though we didn't get to know any of the children very intimately, just the fact that they have names made it seem like we were peeking in on an actual village and not just some random place of the author's imagination. Besides just a description of winter, it was a story, too.

The illustrations are totally unique. They are collages made from all sorts of random paper: catalogs, letters, receipts, etc. The hills of snow are really interesting to look at because if you look closely, you can actually read the random text on the paper the hills were created from. Sometimes I have a difficult time understanding or appreciating this more abstract style of art, but this one was very accessible to a non-artist like me.

4. All You Need For a Snowman, Alice Schertle, illus. Barbara Lavallee
Unlike Snow and A Perfect Day, which talked about all of the fun things you can do in the snow, All You Need For a Snowman focuses on just one: the classic snowman.

"One small snowflake fluttering down--that's all you need for a snowman. EXCEPT..." And with that opening line, the book launches into all the time, physical exertion, and accessories needed to make a really perfect snowman. And what if you have leftover snow? Even better. Then you can make a friend, too.

Aaron and Maxwell really liked this one. Even though we have a LOT of snow, they aren't really big enough to play in it by themselves (especially since it's so deep, it's past their waists). When Mike's home to play with them, he usually takes them sledding, so they haven't even built a snowman this year. But this book made them want to build one, and I think they will in the near future.

And while I usually try to make some comment on the illustrations, in this case, I have nothing to say except that they do their job.

5. White Snow, Bright Snow, Alvin Tresselt, illus. Roger Duvoisin
I think what I like best about this book is the overall structure. In the first four pages, you read about a postman, a farmer, a policeman, the policeman's wife, some rabbits, and some children. They are all noticing, in their own way, that it seems like it might snow. Then the snow begins to fall, and you go back to the postman, the farmer, the policeman, etc. and see what they all do with the falling snow. By the end of the book, you know that if you are reading about the postman, you will eventually finish the cycle with the children.

This book won the Caldecott Medal in 1948, and I love everything about the illustrations except that the faces of the people are a little too orange for me. Maybe that's because the color palette used is fairly limited (yellow, gray, white, orangish pink), but I would have preferred a more familiar skin tone. One of the things I really liked is that throughout the book, a lot of gray is used, which kind of makes the cold and snow feel a little more dreary, but then, immediately following the page describing the snow on everything is a two-page spread where everything looks clean and white. I thought this was a really nice contrast to the gray of the previous pages.

But my favorite part of the book? It ends with the coming of spring.