Books

Book that Made You Laugh Out Loud

Day 3:

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

Quick backstory: I picked this book up out of the “book exchange” basket in the teacher’s lounge of a long term 5th grade sub-assignment, my first real job out of college.  It caught my eye and I sort of skimmed the first chapter, thinking it was all about speech impediments and elementary school speech therapists.  I was living with a girl who was getting her Masters in speech therapy, so I thought, “Ooh, Elizabeth might like this.”

Elizabeth: my super conservative, engaged to her high school sweetheart (and only boyfriend, ever), Baptist-Texas-daddy’s-girl roommate who I moved in with during my final semester in Waco when her other four roommates moved out.  (Don’t get me wrong, that townhouse was my best living situation before we bought this house and she was one of my best roommates before John.)

It wasn’t a good book recommendation.  She handed it back to me and said in her very Katy, Texas high pitched drawal, “Clay-er?  Did yew even reeed thee-is?  I’m not sure it is supposed to be about speech therapy.”  Then, whispering, she said,  “I think it’s about a gay guy.  Anyway, you can have it back.”

Curious, I read the first chapter later that day in my favorite coffee shop on 8th street.

I was spitting my coffee, crying, laughing out loud, and totally falling in love with David Sedaris, one little life story at a time.  People kept interrupting to ask what I was reading.

(I never “exchanged” a book, for this one, by the way.  And I never returned it either.)

To this day, Me Talk Pretty One Day remains my favorite of all his books.  I love, now, that he’s from Raleigh.  I love listening to him on NPR.  I love the Jesus who died on two morsels of lumber and he go above of my head to live with your father.  I’m laughing out loud right now just remembering it.

John and I have vowed to make the trek one day to stand in line at Quail Ridge Books to listen to a live reading.

30 Day Book Challenge, Books, Humor

Day 3: Book that Made You Laugh Out Loud

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

Quick backstory: I picked this book up out of the “book exchange” basket in the teacher’s lounge of a long term 5th grade sub-assignment, my first real job out of college.  It caught my eye and I sort of skimmed the first chapter, thinking it was all about speech impediments and elementary school speech therapists.  I was living with a girl who was getting her Masters in speech therapy, so I thought, “Ooh, Elizabeth might like this.”

Elizabeth: my super conservative, engaged to her high school sweetheart (and only boyfriend, ever), Baptist-Texas-daddy’s-girl roommate who I moved in with during my final semester in Waco when her other four roommates moved out.  (Don’t get me wrong, that townhouse was my best living situation before we bought this house and she was one of my best roommates before John.)

It wasn’t a good book recommendation.  She handed it back to me and said in her very Katy, Texas high pitched drawal, “Clay-er?  Did yew even reeed thee-is?  I’m not sure it is supposed to be about speech therapy.”  Then, whispering, she said,  “I think it’s about a gay guy.  Anyway, you can have it back.”

Curious, I read the first chapter later that day in my favorite coffee shop on 8th street.

I was spitting my coffee, crying, laughing out loud, and totally falling in love with David Sedaris, one little life story at a time.  People kept interrupting to ask what I was reading.

(I never “exchanged” a book, for this one, by the way.  And I never returned it either.)

To this day, Me Talk Pretty One Day remains my favorite of all his books.  I love, now, that he’s from Raleigh.  I love listening to him on NPR.  I love the Jesus who died on two morsels of lumber and he go above of my head to live with your father.  I’m laughing out loud right now just remembering it.

John and I have vowed to make the trek one day to stand in line at Quail Ridge Books to listen to a live reading.

Books

Least Favorite Book

Day 2:

Unlike my favorite book choice, which was hard to narrow down from a pretty good list, least favorite book is difficult for the lack of material to choose from.  Honestly, if a book is not going well in the first fifty pages, I tend to put it down.  More often than not, I also read the very end right away to make sure the journey is worth completing.  Because of this, I rarely get to the end of a book and say, “That was really bad.”

There were a handful of required reading books that rank low on my list, like Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea.  Had a hard time reading it in high school and again in college, despite how short it is.  There’s just something about a story with only two characters (one of which is a fish) that doesn’t especially appeal to me.  But the English teacher in me simply cannot give the least-favorite award to a classic.

Apologies to the millions of people who loved Twilight, but it is on the very bottom of my good reads list.  I realize it is a risky move to announce that the first book of one of the most popular series of this generation ranks as my number one least favorite book.  I don’t need to reiterate that I’m not especially big on pop-culture hype.  I had low expectations for The DaVinci Code (rightfully so) and even less enthusiasm for The Purpose Driven Life.  However, like Oprah’s Book Club, even though I might not jump on the bandwagon just because everyone else is doing it, I’m also not afraid to praise something that is actually getting more people to read.

When it began circulating among my high school students (many who had admitted to never reading an entire book on their own before my class) I was genuinely curious.  When the number of boys reading it increased, so did my interest.  Then I began noticing how often groups of adults were meeting in the cafe of Barnes and Noble to discuss it, and thought, “I should probably read this book.”  Still, I put it off.

The moment finally came, early one Silent Reading Friday morning, when a boyfriend-girlfriend couple in my 10th grade Honors English class were having an argument (she loved them, he hated them).  The boy finally looked at me and said, “Mrs. Wait, will you just read the books so I can settle my point and win?”

So I did.  It took me 105 minutes that Friday in class to get more than halfway through the first book, and I was convinced of exactly why these books were so popular and exactly why I subsequently could not join the fanatics.

In these books, Stephenie Meyer perfectly captures the hormonally charged melodrama of teenage angst.  I sort of felt like I was reading the diary of a really insecure 15 year old girl.  It wasn’t the vampire thing that bothered me.  In fact, I saw it as the plausible ploy of a Mormon writer to maintain her convictions about sex before marriage without alienating her audience.  Genius, really.

I didn’t hate the plot line either.  I only made it through the first three and a half books of the series before I finally gave up (and was told later that the 4th book was the one that makes it all “worth it”) and though a little slow, I didn’t find the story itself to be terribly boring or unoriginal or anything like that.

I just hated Bella and Edward.

I’m sorry.

She was by far the most annoying book character I’ve ever encountered, and ironically, the actress who plays her in the movies was perfect and equally annoying to me.  I fell asleep in the first movie and haven’t even seen any of the others.  Edward, on the other hand, was just too unrealistic.  I get it that he’s a vampire who is mentally and emotionally centuries old, but is physically trapped in the body of the sexiest age of a man.  But of course, for most teenage girls (and apparently many grown women), this phenomenon didn’t exactly translate. Far too many readers got the idea in their minds that this is the man they want to marry.  I hate to burst your bubbles ladies, but this kind of man does not exist in real life.  There is no such thing as a teenage boy with Edward’s sense of self-control, wisdom, unconditional love and devotion, and commitment to fidelity through marriage, when his hot teenage girlfriend is literally throwing herself on top of him.  And, when a man is actually old enough to possess such wisdom and self-control (which is typically gained through past experience, by the way), his body is more than likely no longer that of a sprightly young and perfectly chiseled 18 year old.

And don’t get me started on the love triangle.

In short: we watch Bella have her cake, eat it too, then complain about it until she gets to have seconds, thirds, options for other desserts, and someone feeding them all to her on a silver spoon.

I cannot believe these books made grown adult women swoon.

30 Day Book Challenge, Books

Day 2: Least Favorite Book

Unlike my favorite book choice, which was hard to narrow down from a pretty good list, least favorite book is difficult for the lack of material to choose from.  Honestly, if a book is not going well in the first fifty pages, I tend to put it down.  More often than not, I also read the very end right away to make sure the journey is worth completing.  Because of this, I rarely get to the end of a book and say, “That was really bad.”

There were a handful of required reading books that rank low on my list, like Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea.  Had a hard time reading it in high school and again in college, despite how short it is.  There’s just something about a story with only two characters (one of which is a fish) that doesn’t especially appeal to me.  But the English teacher in me simply cannot give the least-favorite award to a classic.

Apologies to the millions of people who loved Twilight, but it is on the very bottom of my good reads list.  I realize it is a risky move to announce that the first book of one of the most popular series of this generation ranks as my number one least favorite book.  I don’t need to reiterate that I’m not especially big on pop-culture hype.  I had low expectations for The DaVinci Code (rightfully so) and even less enthusiasm for The Purpose Driven Life.  However, like Oprah’s Book Club, even though I might not jump on the bandwagon just because everyone else is doing it, I’m also not afraid to praise something that is actually getting more people to read.

When it began circulating among my high school students (many who had admitted to never reading an entire book on their own before my class) I was genuinely curious.  When the number of boys reading it increased, so did my interest.  Then I began noticing how often groups of adults were meeting in the cafe of Barnes and Noble to discuss it, and thought, “I should probably read this book.”  Still, I put it off.

The moment finally came, early one Silent Reading Friday morning, when a boyfriend-girlfriend couple in my 10th grade Honors English class were having an argument (she loved them, he hated them).  The boy finally looked at me and said, “Mrs. Wait, will you just read the books so I can settle my point and win?”

So I did.  It took me 105 minutes that Friday in class to get more than halfway through the first book, and I was convinced of exactly why these books were so popular and exactly why I subsequently could not join the fanatics.

In these books, Stephenie Meyer perfectly captures the hormonally charged melodrama of teenage angst.  I sort of felt like I was reading the diary of a really insecure 15 year old girl.  It wasn’t the vampire thing that bothered me.  In fact, I saw it as the plausible ploy of a Mormon writer to maintain her convictions about sex before marriage without alienating her audience.  Genius, really.

I didn’t hate the plot line either.  I only made it through the first three and a half books of the series before I finally gave up (and was told later that the 4th book was the one that makes it all “worth it”) and though a little slow, I didn’t find the story itself to be terribly boring or unoriginal or anything like that.

I just hated Bella and Edward.

I’m sorry.

She was by far the most annoying book character I’ve ever encountered, and ironically, the actress who plays her in the movies was perfect and equally annoying to me.  I fell asleep in the first movie and haven’t even seen any of the others.  Edward, on the other hand, was just too unrealistic.  I get it that he’s a vampire who is mentally and emotionally centuries old, but is physically trapped in the body of the sexiest age of a man.  But of course, for most teenage girls (and apparently many grown women), this phenomenon didn’t exactly translate. Far too many readers got the idea in their minds that this is the man they want to marry.  I hate to burst your bubbles ladies, but this kind of man does not exist in real life.  There is no such thing as a teenage boy with Edward’s sense of self-control, wisdom, unconditional love and devotion, and commitment to fidelity through marriage, when his hot teenage girlfriend is literally throwing herself on top of him.  And, when a man is actually old enough to possess such wisdom and self-control (which is typically gained through past experience, by the way), his body is more than likely no longer that of a sprightly young and perfectly chiseled 18 year old.

And don’t get me started on the love triangle.

In short: we watch Bella have her cake, eat it too, then complain about it until she gets to have seconds, thirds, options for other desserts, and someone feeding them all to her on a silver spoon.

I cannot believe these books made grown adult women swoon.

Books

Favorite Book

Day 1:

I was first introduced to this book by my 7th and 8th grade English teacher, Mr. Senger.  He started reading it to us out loud in 8th grade just before Christmas, and as it turned out, I switched schools instead of returning in January.  I checked the book out at the library and read the entire thing in my parents’ formal living room on a pink couch that, to this day, I cannot remember ever sitting in before or after that book.

Ender’s Game sucked me in in that way that (previous to this book) I’d only heard that some books can do.  I had a hard time connecting with reality for several days after finishing this book.

I reconnected with it in high school, when I caught a pot-smoking friend of mine reading it under his desk during Bible class.  I took it from him and three pages was enough to convince me I not only needed to re-read it, but own it.

I read it to my delinquent boys in the woods at night before bed.  Within three nights, my group’s night time culture became the best in camp (and remained far after the book was over, because those boys followed me to the end of any book after I introduced them to Ender’s Game).  I taught it my first year of teaching freshman and I’m fairly certain it is the sole reason any of my students actually liked me.  I immediately figured out a way to work it into my curriculum for every single grade, despite its 7th grade reading level.  Sidenote for you: the author lives about forty-five minutes away from me; I’ve never actually met him.

I don’t know what it is.  I’m not going to summarize it, I’m simply going to say it is just that good.  If you read it (or have read it) and don’t like it, you and I might get along okay, but in the back of my mind, I’m consciously assuming something is wrong with you.

I have a very hard time picking favorites of anything.  I like things in categories and even then, typically I label things in “Top 5’s.”  Favorite is difficult for me.  So Ender’s Game is listed as my favorite book under the following criteria:

  • It is the first book I read all the way through in one sitting.
  • It is the first book I ever re-read.
  • It is the one book I’ve read and recommended the most.
  • It is by far, the favorite among all of my students.
  • When it comes up, randomly, in conversation among semi-strangers, it is an instantaneous bond of friendship that requires no explanation.
30 Day Book Challenge, Books

Day 1: Favorite Book

I was first introduced to this book by my 7th and 8th grade English teacher, Mr. Senger.  He started reading it to us out loud in 8th grade just before Christmas, and as it turned out, I switched schools instead of returning in January.  I checked the book out at the library and read the entire thing in my parents’ formal living room on a pink couch that, to this day, I cannot remember ever sitting in before or after that book.

Ender’s Game sucked me in in that way that (previous to this book) I’d only heard that some books can do.  I had a hard time connecting with reality for several days after finishing this book.

I reconnected with it in high school, when I caught a pot-smoking friend of mine reading it under his desk during Bible class.  I took it from him and three pages was enough to convince me I not only needed to re-read it, but own it.

I read it to my delinquent boys in the woods at night before bed.  Within three nights, my group’s night time culture became the best in camp (and remained far after the book was over, because those boys followed me to the end of any book after I introduced them to Ender’s Game).  I taught it my first year of teaching freshman and I’m fairly certain it is the sole reason any of my students actually liked me.  I immediately figured out a way to work it into my curriculum for every single grade, despite its 7th grade reading level.  Sidenote for you: the author lives about forty-five minutes away from me; I’ve never actually met him.

I don’t know what it is.  I’m not going to summarize it, I’m simply going to say it is just that good.  If you read it (or have read it) and don’t like it, you and I might get along okay, but in the back of my mind, I’m consciously assuming something is wrong with you.

I have a very hard time picking favorites of anything.  I like things in categories and even then, typically I label things in “Top 5’s.”  Favorite is difficult for me.  So Ender’s Game is listed as my favorite book under the following criteria:

  • It is the first book I read all the way through in one sitting.
  • It is the first book I ever re-read.
  • It is the one book I’ve read and recommended the most.
  • It is by far, the favorite among all of my students.
  • When it comes up, randomly, in conversation among semi-strangers, it is an instantaneous bond of friendship that requires no explanation.
Books

30 Day Book Challenge

It is winter.  January and February couldn’t go by faster (thank God one is the shortest month of the year) because they are, for me and many others, the most depressing months of the year.  Hence, I’ve been on a reading kick.

In addition to books, I’m frequently on the lookout for blogs to follow that I don’t end up hating three-quarters of the way through one post.  No offense to everyone who blogs, but there are very few of you who capture my attention and affection.  I understand I might perpetuate this exact problem, but I guess I’ll never know.

I like (and continue to try) reading the blogs of friends, for no other reason than to keep up with their lives, but even a personal connection to the blogger doesn’t guarantee my reading if the person is a boring writer or leads a boring life.

Anyway, I recently found this girl: http://chewyourlipstick.wordpress.com/.  I hope she doesn’t think I’m a freakish stalker or something, but so far, all she’s written about are books and nail polish, two things I happen to take an un-average interest in as well.

On her blog, she posed the 30-Day Book Challenge, something someone suggested to her.

I’m taking it under consideration.  I’m just nervous that I’m not going to be able to think of a book in each category.  My memory for books is a lot like my memory for holding grudges.  Things come to me at the weirdest times, and never on demand.

I realize if I do embark on such a regimented writing routine, some of my regular readers are going to check out for exactly 30 days.  That’s fine.  Once in a while, the teacher in me likes to have an assignment.

The Rules…*

Day 1: Favorite book
Day 2: Least favorite book
Day 3: Book that made you laugh out loud
Day 4: Book that makes you cry
Day 5: Book you wish you could live in
Day 6: Favorite young adult book Favorite Series
Day 7: Book that you can quote/recite
Day 8: Book that scares you
Day 9: Book that made you sick
Day 10: Book that changed your life
Day 11: Book from your favorite author
Day 12: Book that is most like your life
Day 13: Book whose main character is most like you Most surprising plot twist or ending
Day 14: Book whose main character you want to marry Author you used to love but don’t anymore
Day 15: First “chapter book” you can remember reading as a child
Day 16: Longest book you’ve read
Day 17: Shortest book you’ve read
Day 18: Book you’re most embarrassed to say you like
Day 19: Book that turned you on
Day 20: Book you’ve read the most number of times
Day 21: Favorite picture book from childhood
Day 22: Book you plan to read next
Day 23: Book you tell people you’ve read, but haven’t (or haven’t actually finished)
Day 24: Book that contains your favorite scene
Day 25: Favorite book you read in school
Day 26: Favorite nonfiction book
Day 27: Favorite fiction book
Day 28: Last book you read
Day 29: Book you’re currently reading
Day 30: Favorite coffee table book

*I can already tell I’m going to be changing/skipping some of these categories because so many are redundant or just boring.

Confessions

When Bad Things Happen to Good People

Two weeks ago my thoughts and prayers were selfishly centered around my desire to expand our family and subsequent need for a minivan to accomplish that. I try not to be one of those people who believes that God cares about my minivan situation as much as He cares about starving children, but I’ve been in a 25 year habit of talking to Him about everything, and lately, I’ve had minivan on my brain.

Then, my Facebook newsfeed alerted me of this update: “OVERWHELMED. That describes the last 2 days of my life on all different levels. My youngest diagnosed with leukemia, seemingly, out of the blue; tearing me apart inside in a way I never imagined…”

This more-than-acquaintance but not-yet-good-friend took her three year old daughter, Leah, to the pediatrician for a cold that wouldn’t seem to go away. Less than twenty four hours later, the little girl was being set up for chemotherapy.

Suddenly, my minivan didn’t seem quite so important.

I sat in a room full of women last Thursday morning, crying, with everyone, as we were more fully updated on the story. Every woman in that room was a mother (hence the reason for the gathering) and for many, this story contained a name without a face. It didn’t matter. None of us could absorb this news with anything less than the feeling of, “What if this was my child?”

Weirdly, this isn’t the first time such news has reached me from a nearly identical relationship connection. A little over two years ago, a couple from our small group at church, who’s daughter is a few months younger than Eliott, announced what might as well have been the exact same scenario. Meet Lexie Grace. For almost two years, her picture has been on my refrigerator.

So what happens when bad things happen to good people? Well, by the power of the World Wide Interwebs, stories are told, connections are made, and support begins to organize. In Lexie’s case, “Love 4 Lexie” signs began popping up all around Alamance County. Money was raised. Prayers were raised. A community rallied.

After last Thursday’s full disclosure to my MOMS group, we were sent an email with the beginning notes of “How you can help.” In the newness of the situation, the family is taking things one day at a time. Not wanting to add to what I can only imagine could quickly become a smothering amount of support, I clicked the link to sign up for a meal delivery. I was ten minutes too late. Meals have already been arranged every other day from now until April. Women have booked Saturday mornings to vacuum someone else’s house. Gas cards have been shoved into envelopes. And of course, people are praying.

Obviously I do not pretend to understand even a fraction of how this family must feel. Yet, there are so many people who do. Like birth and death, I imagine this situation is one of those that is exactly as unique as it is common. Throughout my first pregnancy and into those first moments of motherhood, I remember trying not to allow myself to think that no one could possibly understand how I felt, yet constantly feeling like no one could possibly understand how I felt. An emotional oxymoron. It does not make the experience any less unique. In the case of cancer, it does not make the experience any less difficult.

The last time we spoke to Lexie’s parents face-to-face, we were celebrating solid foods, sitting up, and the prospect of walking, while Eliott and Lexie drooled near each other on the floor. John and I moved out of the area and have not kept in close contact with the family, but have been regularly updated on her status, and reminded to pray. Somehow, I’ve never taken down her picture. I am excited to report that Lexie’s last chemo treatment was in June of 2010, and she’s currently in remission. Those of us non-medical praying-type people like to say healed.

I have gone to bed every night this week with the thought on my lips, “Thank you for my children. Thank you for our health.” Admittedly, I feel guilty using one person’s tragedy as a reminder to count my blessings. But I’m human. How else can I respond?

I believe in the power of healing. I believe in the power of prayer. And so I also commit to offering this belief for Leah, daily, hourly, as often as I am reminded, because I know that this would be the response of my community if it was my child.

* Names and pictures have been included with full disclosure to and permission of the parents.

Books

Good Taste Day

I like to periodically check in and write about my book life, because like some of my most important relationships, books are a part of me.  Plus, when I find someone else with similar reading material tastes, I always like hearing what they have to say.  For the pleasure of my reading and non-reading followers alike, I’ll try to keep things short (and just for you Laura, I’ll take the time to imbed some pictures).

Recent Book Club Picks:

         

This is the third book club I’ve participated in in the last three years.  Reasons why I like it the best:

    1. These women not only read the selected books, but actually discuss them, with thought and depth and librarian style enthusiasm.
    2. I am probably the youngest person in attendance, which nearly guarantees I can avoid talking about children, if I want.  And when the subject of children does come up, there are enough generations in the room to help me keep a proper perspective on my place in life.  It is bliss.
    3. Does anyone from Mrs. Abbott’s English class remember Good Taste Day?  It was our favorite book project every semester because the requirement was simply to read a book then bring a food that relates to the book to share with the class.  I liked the idea so much that as a teacher, I did it twice a year with my own classes.  I have apparently found the adult-non-graded version of Good Taste Day.  The only difference is that it is just the hostess (who selects the book as well) who must provide thematically appropriate food, which I look forward to enjoying one Thursday evening of every month.

These are the last two books we read for this book club and I gave both of them four stars.  For sure, these are two books I would have never picked up on my own, but I can honestly say they were worth my time.

Finally Came in After Five Months in my Library Queue:

I read Twilight, so you know I had to pick this one up just see if it lived up to the hype.  I am proud to announce I place it no where near the reject pile that Twilight ended up in.  This book did not blow my mind nor change my life.  Truth be told, it didn’t even really make me think.  But it was entertaining, and I enjoyed all three hours it took me to read it.  If I was a middle school teacher, I’d recommend it to all of my students but I’d never teach it.  I’m eager to read the next two in the series and I can’t wait to see it as a movie.

Middle School Teachers Told Me To:

Every once in a while I find myself on a YA Fiction kick, because even as a high school teacher (or especially because of this) I need to have an ever-ready arsenal of good but somewhat easy reads.  This is one that is actually pretty widely taught across many middle schools, and I can see why.  As a Holocaust story, it is completely untraditional.  For the record, parts of it did make me cry, which isn’t completely unusual, but it isn’t a rule with books and me, like it is with movies.  This book took me much longer to read than the font and short paragraphs originally seemed to suggest.  It was a little slow, but worth the effort.

A Personal Endeavor:

On my shelf currently is a growing list of parenting books.  If you know me, you know it isn’t usually my thing to read books that I feel like I could have written.  (Most “Continuing Education” requirements currently come to mind.)  But I’ve had this idea sort of brooding for several years now that at some point in my life I could probably teach parenting seminars.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not amping up my scholarly reading for lesson fodder, because obviously I haven’t knowingly used any of their techniques or advice so far, but I figure it would be good preparation.  When I consider normal parenting reading habits, I’d like to be able to speak to people as though I am one of them and not an enemy.  Or something.  Mainly, I’m preparing for the questions in my daydreams which go something like, “What do you think of so and so and what he says about…?”  (Who knows, I might even end up agreeing with one of them.)  Here are the few I’m on the verge of cracking:

                   

Confessions, Eliott

Kids Are Mean

This is not news.

Even before we were married John and I talked about the high probability of the two of us spawning a child (children) who would be picked on in school.  It seems inevitable.  John and I currently would be considered above average when it comes to social classifiers such as athleticism, brains, wit, and appearance.  Yet, we were both ostracized in school, from very young ages until, well, perhaps until some magical day in high school or college when we decided to just fully stop caring.  When I say “ostracized,” weirdly, I don’t mean we were ignored or labeled “dorks,” and that was that.

I mean singled out.

Picked on.

Relentlessly teased, purposefully left out, and made to wonder, for most of our lives, what was wrong with us.

The magical happy ending of this story is that I really did get over it, and even believe I am better for it today.  I can’t imagine who I would have turned out to be if I had been–gulp–popular in Jr. High.  John agrees.

Okay so we aren’t like the richest most successful people we currently know.  And truth be told, we probably have far fewer friends than average 30 somethings.  But neither of us would have it any other way.

That is not to say, however, that I would wish the same fate on my own children.

But I don’t have to.  It seems it has started.

Remember Kelsey?  Well, she’s back.  Please understand that my rendition of Eliott’s experience is built from the comments of a teacher who did not actually witness any of the following and translation of the perception of an almost five year old.

Facts may skewed.

I can hardly do the entire thing justice, except to invite you into the scene and allow you to hear things as I heard them.

The adult version:

Teacher: Well, we had a rough day.
Me: Is Eliott still having an issue with following directions?
Teacher: No.  This was more a problem with getting along with the other kids in class.  It seems she’s being picked on, and I think today it just really got to her.
Me: Ah.  Is this the whole, “You’re not my best friend anymore,” thing?  We’ve talked about it.
Teacher: Yes.  I think it is that and also an issue with toys and sharing, and you how kids can be… we’re working on it.  Please just keep talking to her about how she feels.

Eliott’s version:

Eliott: Well, first Kelsey said, “No Eliott.  You are not my best friend.  And Lucy is not your best friend either.  She’s my best friend.
Me: Well, Eliott, did you tell Kelsey and Lucy, ‘That’s okay.  You can still be my friends?’  I mean, what did you say?
Eliott: I said (in a voice that I can only assume is mine, mimicked): That is not nice, Kelsey.  You are not being nice to me, and you need to be nice to me.
Me: Wow.  That was probably the best thing you could have said.  What did she say?
Eliott: Well, she started singing, “Eliott is a poopy pants, Eliott is a poopy pants,” and everyone else was just singing it too.

I have to admit.  From my eyes of experience, how do I explain to Eliott that this little song means she won?  The story continued before bed, when Eliott confessed to John that all the kids were taking away her toy, and no one was being her friend.  Part of me wonders if she simply felt so alone that she perceived the entire class to be ganging up on her.

I’m not surprised, and I’m not angry, and actually, in my all to pragmatic sense of reality, I’m sort of comforted in the ever so expectedness of this situation.  I just really didn’t think it would start so soon.  And like any other parent, I feel pretty confident that no matter what I say or do, ultimately this is something that might not get better, and might not have a solution.

For example, I didn’t immediately get on the phone and call Kelsey’s mom, so we could have a conflict-resolution session.  I didn’t even push things with the teacher to make sure whatever strategy should be in place is being implemented properly.  I didn’t suggest Eliott fight back, or anything like that.  I know these are all things that people do, but somehow, none of them feel like the right step.  Right now.

I am actually taking comfort in exactly two things Eliott has said, as a result of this recent issue.  Amazingly, I’m not sure I distinctly taught her either of them, but her naturally keen sense of self seems to be protecting her just fine right now.

First, I wanted her to know the reality of the situation, because if I recall, my mother did the same thing with me.  Granted, I was more likely in 4th grade at the time I was dealing with this, and not four, but it’s never really been my parenting technique to treat my children according to their height.  I said to Eliott, “Listen.  There’s something you need to know.  Most girls are mean.  I don’t know why, but they just are.  In your life, you might only have a couple of really good girl friends, and probably one of them will be your sister.  You need to be nice to Carter, because most girls don’t like people like you and me.”  When she asked me why, I might have blurted a little too quickly, “Well, because we’re smart, and we’re pretty, and we don’t even care.”  To this her face lit up and she exclaimed, “Yeah!  Let’s just keep being pretty!” and then high-fived me.  I took it as a success.

Then, today at breakfast, I was preparing her for her field trip today, explaining that she was going to be riding with somebody’s mom, and how fun it would be and blah blah blah.  When she asked who was driving I said, “Actually, probably Adam’s mom and Kelsey’s mom.  They drive for everything.  And your teachers will drive too.”  At the inclusion of ‘Kelsey’s mom’ Eliott said, again, in a voice that was far more grown up than I usually hear, “Kelsey’s mom?  Well.  I’m going to tell her that Kelsey was being mean to me on the other day.  Yeah.  And I’m going to say that she makes the other kids be mean to me too, and they taunt me, and take things from me.”  To this, I threw in, “And exclude me, say that.”

I love that she recognizes taunting from her experience with doing it to her own sister.  I also love her dork-level vocabulary.

It turns out, when I dropped her off at school, the plan had changed a bit and I ended up attending the field trip today.  All the girls rode together in one car and all of them got along swimmingly.  I didn’t seek vengeance and I didn’t even feel the need to discuss any of this with the other moms in attendance.  I do actually like most of these kids and weirdly, I actually like most of their mothers.  And deep down, I really do think Eliott is going to be okay.  (All right, I admit to one or two vivid thoughts of accidentally kicking little Kelsey right in the head, but truly, that was my Mama Bear instinct more than any personal vendetta against a five year old.)

I realize I might be creating a monster here.  I also realize there are plenty of things I could or should be doing and not doing.  But the fact is, I’m not looking for advice, or sympathy, or even approval.  Again.  I really try not to be that annoying mom who praises and raises my children to unreachable pedestals of greatness.  At least not publicly, anyway.  (I said I try gimme a break here.)  But this has been one of those weeks where I was unexpectedly transported back to a time in my life that, no matter how long ago it was or how much I’ve changed, the feeling of insecurity and loneliness is unmistakeable and universal.

And I just can’t explain how proud I am, that my daughter, who is three weeks away from her fifth birthday, has a very keen sense inside of her, of just how to say, “Go to hell,” to her adversaries in an appropriate way.

I’m sure my dad would say, “Yep.  She’s a Paulus.”