Okay, this is more like it

I pitched my book to seven agents today at the Book Expo America / Writer's Digest Pitch Slam, and came away with six thumbs-ups. Two invitations to query, two requests for the first three chapters, and two requests for the full manuscript!

The one who refused it said that she thought it had "commercial legs," but it just wasn't her kind of thing.

One of the requests for the full manuscript was accompanied by the loveliest of compliments: "I would ask you for an exclusive read, but I just know there are other agents who are going to request the manuscript today, so that wouldn't be fair. Just get it to me soon, I love it!"

AAHHHHHHHHH.

Sleepover

Madison and Ella are at a sleepover that their babysitter (a 25-year-old young mathematician whom David had taught, who also loves kids) is holding in her apartment for the five girls for whom she babysits.

The last time the girls had slept over at a friend's house, about two years ago, it was kind of a disaster. So this was the perfect occasion to launch them into nice sleepover experiences. They were looking forward to it, and they always had the option of calling me in the middle of the night to pick them up if there was a problem. We didn't get a call. I'll pick them up about 9 and we'll head over to our customary Memorial Day parade in Fairport.

I don't know why people always say things like, "Oh, so nice for you, getting the kids out of the house for a while." I mean, I don't want to argue, and I appreciate the intention, but we don't want the kids out of the house! We like them. We miss them. We want them around. I know it's a good thing for them to do, and I would never deny them the opportunity. But it's 6:45am, and I keep expecting Ella to come padding down the stairs and wrap herself up in my lap. She won't, she's at Hyeyon's. And it feels all wrong.

Think I'm dreading the Empty Nest Syndrome that will land on me starting in about 8 years? Yes indeedy. I try not to jump the gun on that. On the other hand, sometimes I feel as though I'm living in this wonderful open-air world of sunshine and flowers, but making my way slowly and inexorably toward a dark tunnel guarded by a monster. It makes me appreciate this time of life all the more. But still.

In this case, it really IS the process, not the product

For a nice little break in the home schooling routine yesterday, I decided that we should do something with the lily-of-the-valley plants that carpet our yard. I love lily-of-the-valley, and the girls are always looking for a flower craft. So I opened our nature crafts for kids book and found a method for making perfume from flowers.

Basically, you jam some fragrant petals in a bottle, and pour grain alcohol over them. Leave it for two weeks, then uncork and strain.

They didn't mention lily-of-the-valley as a good one, but it smells good, so I figured why not.

We went to Michael's. We bought some cute little bottles for $1 each.

We went to the liquor store to get grain alcohol. The problem: No one sells it.

I kind of couldn't believe it. I thought that when I was in college, people made punch and jello shots with grain alcohol. But when I asked one of the folks at one store how to get it, he said, "MAKE it. That's the only way." And we even got a little mini-dissertation from the next liquor store owner about why he won't sell it. (Basically, he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.) That guy said that we might be able to use 160-proof vodka, but he won't sell THAT, either, for the same reasons. But, he said, other people around here might sell 160-proof vodka, I'd have to call around.

So. No grain alcohol, and no energy to drive around town looking for 160-proof vodka that may or may not do the job.

The craft book said not to use rubbing alcohol, the scent is too disruptive.

So we looked in our own liquor cabinet. I found a small, clear bottle with words in Russian and only Russian. What could it be but vodka, right? And the Russians make it strong, right? So we crammed hundreds of lily-of-the-valley blossoms into a little bottle and poured the Russian stuff over it.

Before I corked it, I smelled it. It smelled vile.

Wonder what it will be like in 2 weeks. I'm betting not good.

But it's the process that counts. In this case, I bet we forget all about it until the end of the summer anyway. And then it will smell so bad that they'll remember the whole thing for the rest of their lives.

Laura Ingalls Wilder letters newly online

I found out that some letters from Laura's family members from the early 1860s are newly online at the Wisconsin Historical Society. I've paged through a few of them: Very interesting, especially the letters from the front lines of the Civil War from Laura's uncles.

http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/highlights/archives/2009/05/laura_ingalls_w.asp

HT to Melissa Wiley, author of the "Martha" books.

An international writing sensation!

Madison is getting a real kick out of the fact that her "Hiking with Kids" article on my KidsOutAndAbout.com web page is getting exposure from all over the world, and it's only been on the web for 20 days! We decided to figure out why that is, and we discovered that if you Google "hiking with kids" or "kids hiking tips," that article appears on the first page. Totally cool.

Starting the day with sunshine

The first thing Ella did this morning is that she came and sat right down in front of me and said, rather meditatively, "You know, I'm almost always happy to hug someone."

(She had someone in mind right then. :-) )

Cookin' right along

Madison has gotten into a cooking rhythm lately. She has always been very skittish about the stove (perhaps as a result of realizing that if one's body wacks into corners and walls with regularity, it's best to stay away from the stove). But lately, at the age of 9 1/2, she has started to cook, for real, from recipes, without me except for, you know, putting things on and off the big Stove Monster.

She is going about it recipe by recipe, trying to master each one, before moving on to the next one. She finds the recipe, reads it carefully, and goes about making the dish (usually dessert) s-l-o-w-l-y. The current rage is these peppermint patty candy things. Just at this moment she is melting chocolate in a double boiler to dip the mint candies in.

We did have a moment about 10 days ago when she was holding a hot metal bowl (using pot holders) and she held it out to Ella and said, "Here, Ella, will you do me a favor and hold this?" I saw, and in time, I shouted "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" She was startled, of course, and realized why I shouted. She has a very vivid imagination, so I could see it all over her face: The image of ten burned fingers had she actually given Ella the bowl. She was terribly, terribly upset. I didn't need to talk about it at all. I just told her what a good thing it was that this had happened, a PERFECT thing, because the lesson was totally learned without anything bad actually happening.

After a few minutes, she was able to get back on the horse, so to speak.

Anyway, a very funny thing that Madison has adopted while cooking is a smiling adamance about calling ounces "ozzes" because of its abbreviation. Also, she calls pounds "libs."

The Why and the Wherefore

My favorite baritone, Derrick Smith, came to my house yesterday. He's singing with the girls' chorus down in DC (at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site) and at Gettysburg in two weeks. The trip will be immeasurably better because he's singing with the chorus. Derrick will sing some songs on his own from his current project, a new Civil War Songs CD whose working title is The Army of the Free.

I've basically prodded Derrick into doing this CD after David suggested it last year because this year is Lincoln's Bicentennial. Derrick was very enthusiastic. He is, however, the kind of guy who has too much going and isn't a detail manager, so somehow I have slipped into the role of kick-in-the-pants checker-in with him to keep the project going. He's happy about this. And I'm happy about seeing the progress. He and I are going to do some research at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site when we're in DC; they have the hymnbook Douglass carried up with him from slavery in Maryland, and Derrick is going to choose one or two appropriate hymns to go on the CD.

He was here yesterday and sang some of the songs for me. (I love that I get these personal concerts.) There are a few songs I know, and a lot I don't, which makes it all the better.

The Why and the Wherefore
Run to Jesus (the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery)
We are coming Father Abram
The Battle Cry of Freedom
Tenting on the Old Campground
Lorena
The Yellow Rose of Texas
Follow the Drinking Gourd
Steal Away
Aura Lea
Twenty Years Ago
Let My People Go
The Army of the Free

It should be a beautiful and unique CD.

More to the point, though: Derrick left me photocopies of some of the music. One of the songs, called The Why and the Wherefore, is exceedingly beautiful when it's played fairly slowly, and, it so happens, the piano accompaniment is exactly at the level I can play, if I stretch. And that's what I've been doing this morning (for my own enjoyment, obviously, not to accompany Derrick!). I took half an hour when I probably should have been working, and played piano instead. It was wonderful. (I wasn't wonderful, but the experience was lovely.) It was hard to tear myself away.

Like I need a new hobby.

I mentioned to the girls' chorus director that I was working with Derrick on this, and she asked if I am producing the CD. I'm not, I said, I'm just the cheerleader. But she did plant that idea in my mind. Maybe I will.

Again...like I need a new hobby. But I could file this one under my personal way of celebrating Lincoln's Bicentennial.

I can't decide

Not that I *have* to decide this, mind you. But I'm not sure which is harder to take: The impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried this morning, or the impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried 8 weeks ago.

Good thing I'm 40 and have, you know, decades of experience of other types of success under my belt, otherwise I might be getting a little down right about now.

Limericks for yesterday's celebration

Yesterday was National Limerick Day. John Enright wrote some.

Here are ours:

Madison's limerick:

Oh, Sally she hated her books:
They were all about little brooks.
The more Sally despised them,
The more her brother prized them,
So all of her brook books he took.

Ella's not-quite-limerick but still fun poem:

My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I don't know how it happened that way
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I found out about it just today.
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
And that's all that I have to say.

Testing, testing

We both started and finished standardized testing today. I used the CAT--the California Achievement Test--for second and fourth grade. I thought it would be a lot more fuss than it actually was. The girls, even Ella, actually enjoyed themselves. (She read everything without fuss and usually finished even the language sections earlier than the allotted time. The test was quite a bit easier than the prep booklet. The math was laughably easy, Ella could have done all of Madison's except for the one long division problem.) I'll probably do this every year rather than write a year-end evaluation essay, even though in New York State we only are bound to do testing every other year starting in 4th grade.

I will send the tests and booklets back to Seton Home Study School Testing, and they'll give us a scorecard of sorts. Easy-peasy, and pretty cheap.

Internal support network

Somehow unbeknownst to me, it seems that my neurons are conspiring on a project to demonstrate to my conscious mind how great it is that I'm 40.

As I may have said somewhere in this blog before, a majority of the dreams I remember are nightmares set back in high school. Or, less often, college. Except for senior year of college (which was finally the experience I'd been longing for because by then I'd put myself together intellectually, jettisoned my deadbeat dad, and gathered around me a bunch of really good friends), you couldn't pay me to relive any of those years from 14-21. Or, come to think of it, 12-21. Or maybe even 10-21. Anyway, in these dreams I am Back Then and I must complete an interminable amount of work ahead before I'll be released.

Last night, I dreamed that I was back at Penn with my college freshman roommate, and we were squeezed into a tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment that had a big waste-of-space bathroom, with two other girls. I had to hang out with these people. We were walking down the street in West Philadelphia, which was if possible even less attractive than it was 20 years ago, when suddenly I came upon Madison walking toward me with a group of kids. She was 18 or so, and seemed happy to be there.

But...wait...my brain started screaming...that's...Madison!...how could the time have gone so fast? What? She's in college? That means I can't be in college, oh thank god... But she can't be an adult yet, she's my baby ....AAAAAGHHHHH!

And then the dream dissolved, as they do when one's rational mind takes over. I woke up, tremendously grateful to be right here, where I am, right now.

40. Perfect.

Kids Education Free E-Books from CurrClick

CurrClick, which sells e-books for homeschooling, has a special Mother's Day giveaway of four free downloadable e-books per day. Each day up until Thursday, go to this link:

http://www.currclick.com/cclick_mothersday.php?SRC=mothersday

It will show you the four free books for that day. Some are religious, but others are totally secular.

Inhibitions

One hard thing about homeschooling -- at least in my case -- is that in situations where schoolwork is frustrating, the child responds differently -- worse -- than she would in the classroom. At home, Ella feels free to break into tears when she's working on something that is difficult, that she can't understand in the first pass. At school or in public, she'd just suck it up, get going, and figure it out. But not here.

I'm never positive about exactly how to handle these situations, how much to jolly her into it. I mostly say, "Okay, I see you're frustrated. When you're ready, feel free to come to me with questions." (But sometimes, when I sense that she's just primed and ready to keep crying in a vaguely manipulative way, I do just tell her snappishly, "Get a grip, Ella.")

Beware...you never know what may be hidden with your flowers

My friend Tatiana sent me a beautiful box of flowers yesterday from ProFlowers.com. Each lovely purple sprig had its own individual watering case at the bottom. There was a beautiful light-green vase securely wrapped at the base so there was no chance of breakage. There was a little box of delicious chocolates, with a daisy bow around the box. And there was...

...a Bible tract.

That's right: a folded-up little treatise (written in cartoons, of all things) produced by LivingWaters.com, reminding me that there was still time for me to repent of my sins, accept Jesus Christ as my Personal Lord and Savior, and be forgiven so that I'm not sentenced by The Big Ghost in the Sky to burn forevermore deep in the bowels of the earth.

I thought it was pretty funny.

Tatiana did NOT think it was pretty funny. Tatiana is pissed.

I called up ProFlowers.com and asked them if it was standard practice to include these things with their flowers. No, it most certainly was NOT, the customer service rep said.

"The thing is," I said, "today is my 40th birthday. And while this isn't traumatizing or anything, pretty much the last thing I want to be reminded of is, you know, how little time I have left before I have to DIE."

She could understand that, she said. (She was a well-trained CSR.)

"It's just a good thing this isn't a 'get-well' bunch of flowers," I continued. "Imagine being in the hospital with some awful disease, and getting THIS."

She reacted with appropriate horror.

"So, I think you probably have some person working in your warehouse who needs to be stopped from doing this kind of thing," I said.

She agreed. "There's a chain of action that I can start here. I'm making a note in the file. What's your email address? You can call in a couple of days if you haven't heard anything."

I have a feeling Tatiana is going to call today and give them a rapid-fire Latina-accent-enhanced earful, too, just to drive in the point that something should be done.

Not that I'm usually the type of person who is out to get people fired, but I really think the person who did this needs to be canned, pronto.

Car irony

I always leave the every-two-year car inspection until the last minute, or over.

My inspection was due by the end of April, and I decided really to take the bull by the horns and get it done on April 29.

The car didn't pass, because the Check Engine light, which has been on without pause and without meaning since 2002, was lit as usual.

"Oh, don't fuss about that," I said. "It's been lit since 2002. It doesn't mean anything."

"Sorry, ma'am," said the Jiffy Lube people. "We're not allowed to pass it. You'll have to take it to your mechanic. Within 30 days we can re-inspect it for free and pass it if that light is off."

I grumbled to myself about a waste of time and $25. Because, of course, the mechanic is also an inspection station, it will just cost me more than the Jiffy Lube people, they're out of my way, and you have to make an appointment.

It turned out that the Jiffy Lube people had turned on these weird dashboard lights in the car, lights I never use. I didn't notice. So the next morning when I went to turn on the car, the battery was dead. I was pretty ticked off about the whole experience while David was jumping the car back to life.

But when I started driving, I noticed that something was different. The Check Engine light was OFF! For the first time in 7 years!

I high-tailed it back to the Jiffy Lube that afternoon, and they inspected it (for free, of course) and the car PASSED.

(When do Car Experience stories ever work out for the BEST?)

The latest parenting dilemma

What does one do when the go-with-the-flow YOUNGER sister is qualified to move up to the next level gymnastics class for next semester, but not the competitive older sister? They say I can hold Ella back with no problem, no one will really notice. I might do that. They both have a good time at gymnastics, but neither considers it fundamental to her happiness or anything. They could give it up easily. If Ella considered it the end-all and be-all of her existence, I'd have to let her go ahead. But as it is, I'm still not sure what to do.

The Puppy Place books

I love great kids literature.

But I can deal with it when my kids read kind of badly-written books -- especially in Ella's case.

I want her to WANT to read. I want it not to be a struggle.

I suggested that David get her a gift card to Barnes & Noble for her birthday this year, rather than buying her the books outright. A) Ella loves to shop and B) we stand a better chance of her wanting to read it if she buys the book.

I was right. Sunday, I took her to B&N and she got several of the new "Puppy Place" series of books. Oh, they are nothing books. But she loves them. She loves puppies, so that helps. She has been reading outside this morning, pretty happily.

(Oh, well...she just came in and asked, "Can I stop now? I'm on Chapter 8."

Sigh.

My answer was, "Sure, if you want to do handwriting." She fled back outside, book in hand.)

Start of a conversation you're not sure you want to have with your 9-year-old

"Hey, Mom! Lemme tell you why this book [holding up the 39 Clues book she started and finished today] succeeds while yours fails!"

Proud, proud, proud proud proud

Have I mentioned that I'm proud of my kids? Yes indeedy.

Following Madison's spontaneous assistance with a talk I gave last year at a MOPS club (Mothers of Preschoolers) in which we all realized that the child has some kind of future in public speaking, Madison said she'd like to do it again, as often as possible.

An opportunity came this year to talk with another MOPS group, and we did it this morning. This time, Madison was officially on the schedule, and we did a bit of preparation. She made up a list of 14 tips you should remember when taking little kids hiking, based on her years of experience. She had her own little section of the talk this morning. It was fabulous, and so well received (boy, was it well received, I got tons more compliments than I would have had it just been me talking) that I decided we'd make the list into an article on KidsOutAndAbout.com. So we just worked through the HTML and FTP'ed it up to the server.

And here it is:

Tips to Remember When Hiking with Kids

Her first byline! Her first copyright! My baby!

You know, I feel quite carried away, sometimes, with how much I love her.