Master Brooks's Bookses: Potty Training by the Book

            

           I’ve come to the conclusion life is all about change. Just when you’re comfortable with the status quo, suddenly you’re adjusting—adjusting to things like a big boy's bed...or a little brother. I’ve always been fairly flexible in adapting to new situations, but the latest change being thrust upon me has me somewhat perplexed. It seems that now, instead of continuing to wear my comfy, dependable diaper, I’m required to go through a regimen called “potty training.” I’m not sure I like it. Besides being a little scary—what if I fell right through that hole in the seat?—the potty is not nearly as convenient as a diaper. I mean, with a diaper, when you’re ready to go, you go, right?

            I admit, however, there have been a few upsides to this process. I got a super new potty seat that is bright, shiny red and has pictures of my favorite movie stars, Lightning McQueen and Mater. I also got a matching stool that helps me reach the lavatory. And, oh yes, there’s flushing. I love flushing. Pushing that silver lever and hearing that great whooshing sound are so...so empowering. But even with these perks, I’m not completely sold on the idea of using the potty.

            As with the other changes in my life, I fear I must bow to the inevitable. And I’ve found one of the best ways to master life’s challenges is with the help of a book. If you or a loved one is presently facing this stressful rite of passage, let me recommend My Big Boy Potty, written by Joanna Cole and illustrated by Maxie Chambliss. I closely identify with Michael, the protagonist in the story. He is about my age and size. Like me, he enjoys playing with his toys, and he loves reading books. At the first of the story, he wears a diaper—just like I do. Ms. Cole explains how Michael learns to use the potty, and by the end, he is wearing BIG BOY underpants! 

            I haven’t quite reached that point yet, but I’m making an honest effort. And when I’m successful, I hope I get a pair of big boy underpants with Lightning McQueen and Mater on them. In the meantime, I’m finding the bathroom is a good place to get in some quality reading time.

Instead of goldfish, I give My Big Boy Potty five flushes!
(I know, I'm being silly.)

           

The Next Big Thing

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

This is a blog tour that's been circulating for quite a while. I was excited when friend and gifted author Sonia Gensler contacted me to participate and gave me a chance to share my work in progress with you.

What is the working title of your current/next book?


Cross Dressing is the book I just completed.

Where did the idea for CROSS DRESSING come from?

One afternoon my husband and I were driving across Oklahoma City, and I saw someone’s clothes strung along the freeway. I started thinking, boy, someone’s going to be really disappointed...or angry...or up the creek when they get to where they’re going and discover they have no clothes. I started thinking about all the possible scenarios. A plot was born.

What genre does your book fall under?


Definitely women’s fiction. It’s what I love to read most, and it’s what I love to write. 

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?


My book actually has two protagonists because it is two stories running simultaneously, connected by a wardrobe exchange. Wendie Malick would make a great 56-year-old Estelle Grant-Perkins. In picking an actress for this role, I feel my choices are limited because, as we all know, “mature” actresses are not exactly  in huge demand in the U.S. film industry. Fortunately, that situation is improving, but it’s still a problem. I began writing this book before Hot in Cleveland ever aired, but when I saw Malick in that show, I immediately thought,  Estelle!

The choice for my second protagonist, 26-year-old Paige Perkins, is Emma Stone. She has spunk and sensitivity, and she fits the physical description perfectly.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Near the crossroads of the country, two women reach across generational divides and cultural prejudices to find surprising answers to the question: “Do clothes make the woman?”

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’m in the process of pitching it to agents right now. I’ve had one book published by an indie publisher to whom I’m grateful for putting my debut novel in print. It was an excellent learning experience, but one of the lessons I learned was the value of a good agent. If the agent angle doesn’t pan out, I’ll see what direction to go then.

How long did it take you to write the first draft?


About two years. I’m pretty slow, and contrary to popular advice, I edit as I go. I try not to, but my inner-English teacher rears her ugly head and starts  correcting me.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

There are lots and lots of books within women's fiction and every other genre that deal with the "trading places" plot line. But I'm going waaay out on a limb here and comparing Cross Dressing to Sense and Sensibility--only with a contemporary, southwest flavor. I can hear all of my critiquing partners screaming "What?!" but when you think about it, both books deal with women of different generations who find themselves in reduced circumstances. They must rely on their resourcefulness to survive, and they learn much from each other. And there's some romance thrown in along the way!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

When I reached a certain age as a teacher, I started observing the dynamics between the new, young teachers and the...let’s say... more established ones. At the same time, my own daughter was entering the work force, and she and I would discuss her situations with older co-workers. In my case and hers, these weren’t always situations of conflict. Some were, but others were very positive mentoring/learning relationships for both the old and the young. And that is the way it should be. When women of varying ages and circumstances work together to support and encourage each other, they all benefit. That is a message I hope comes across in my book.

 And I must admit to a not-so-hidden agenda of promoting Oklahoma and, in particular, Oklahoma City. I love reading books about New York City, but, hey, life—interesting life—happens in other locations, too.  Rural Oklahoma has beauty and charm and a no-nonsene, laid-back approach that appeal to many. At the same time, Oklahoma City is a metropolis on its way up. It has much to offer in the way of culture and entertainment. I wanted to share that message with the rest of the country and even—pardon me for dreaming big—the world.


________________________

Be sure to look out for the next installments of The Next Big Thing next week, February 22nd, on the blogs by authors C. D. Jarmola and Jennifer Collar McMurrain.

“You had me from...'eh- lo?'”—Baby Boomers, Technology, and Multi-culturalism

Picture it:  My husband, Bill, sitting at the kitchen table which doubles as his home office (yes, that’s material for another post), laptop open in front of him, flip phone pressed to his good ear, eyes squinted as if listening intently.

Bill: “Excuse me. I didn’t catch your name.”

(Pause)

Bill: “Yes...uh...Wamika, this is William Chumley. I’m having a little trouble downloading some tax  soft—”

(Pause)

Bill:  “WEEL-YUM CHUM—”

(Pause)

Bill: “DUBYA...EYEEE...EL...EL—” (His volume level has now risen a few decibels. He informs me later this is not due to frustration but rather to a bad satellite connection between Edmond, Oklahoma, and New Delhi.)

(Pause)

Bill: “No, that’s DUBYA—”

 (Pause)

Bill: “No...DOUBLE  YOO as in...ah...uhm...Wamika!” (Eureka! His face lights up, he nods his head enthusiastically.)  “Yeah, yeah! That’s right! Okay. DOUBLE YOO...EYEEE...EL...EL—”

(Pause)

Bill (holding up two fingers): “No, that’s TWO ELs.” (He stops. From experience, I know his next words will be is there someone else I can talk to.) “Is there someone else I can talk to?”

(Pause)

Bill (rubbing his free hand over his face): “Look, this just isn’t working.” (Apparently the connection became weaker at this point because his voice grew even louder.) “Is there someone there who speaks Eng—”

(Pause)

Bill: Yes, but I can’t understand you, you can’t understand—”

(Pause)

Bill: “DOUBLE YOO...EYEE...EL...EL—Oh, for crying—”

(Sound of flip phone snapping shut)

I look across the table at a defeated man, eyes glazed over, flip phone tossed onto the table. He rises and pours himself a cup of coffee, buying time to gather himself before attempting another call. The odds aren’t good, but maybe next time he’ll have more success.

“Why didn’t you hang up at WEEL-YUM?” I ask.

“Because I’d already waited twenty-five minutes to talk to Wamika. I hated to lose her.”

Valid point.



Bill wouldn't pose for a picture, so I had to improvise. Work with me here.



Master Brooks's Bookses: If You Give a Pig a Party

     You might recall a few months ago, I mentioned I would be getting a new baby brother and a new room. Well, guess what? BOTH have finally arrived! And I’m enjoying them both. Bennett—that’s my new brother’s name—can’t play with me yet, but I do like giving him kisses, patting him on the back, and holding him (with some assistance). But I’m REALLY excited about my new playroom! It has lots of storage for my toys and lots of floor space for playing with my Legos and trucks. What I like best about it, though, is my book nook. That’s right. There’s a cozy place for getting comfy while someone reads me my favorite stories.

Master Brooks's Book Nook

 

    Lately, one of those favorites has been If You Give a Pig a Party. This is from the delightful series of If You... books, written by Laura Numeroff and illustrated by Felicia Bond. The stories are based on the ol’ “slippery slope” theory. You know how it goes: If you do one thing, it sets in motion a chain of events—all of them bad. Except in these stories, the events that follow are good...VERY good. Events like a bumper car ride, a game of hide-and-seek, a sleepover, a pillow fight. The pictures of the crazy, winsome characters like Moose and Mouse make these events all the more hilarious, resulting in a truly delightful read. But I must add a word of caution. If you own this book, you’ll want to remove the jacket so it won’t get torn. Then you’ll want to sleep with the book hugged against your face. While you’re sleeping, you’ll start to drool, and you’ll wake up with a purple stain on your cheek. It won’t wash off, and you’ll go to school looking like you have Kool-Aid on your face. This will concern your mommy a lot more than it does you. And that’s not theory. It’s fact.     


When Bennett gets older, I'm going to read my favorite books to him!

 

2013 Father of the Year, Bill Clinton--The Perfect Choice

            In a cartoon in the Wall Street Journal, a rather academic-looking sort complains to a colleague: “The only way to create a sensation as an essayist these days is to write something mean about cats.”

            Oh, dear. As much as I’d like to create a sensation, I can’t do that. I’m not a cat-hater. I’m not even a cat-disliker. I enjoy cats as long as they belong to someone else. And, as many of my friends are avid cat-lovers, I don’t want to offend them. So for this post, I chose a slightly less sensational topic: Bill Clinton, Father of the Year.

            This morning as I assembled my breakfast, my husband read aloud a few of the news items of the day. I listened with half my brain, using the other half to concentrate on my omelet.

“Bill Clinton Is Named Father of the Year,” he announced.

Now he had my full-brain attention. 

            Of all the names I would’ve expected to receive this honor, Bill Clinton’s was not among them. Anywhere. I’m not a Clinton-hater. Not even a Clinton-disliker. I consider him neither any better nor any worse than other politicians we’ve dealt with over the past twenty years. I think he has certain admirable traits. He’s smart and charismatic, and he makes excellent speeches. He was able to work with a Republican Congress to actually balance a budget. And I’m sure there’s a host of women across the country who can testify as to his charm and persuasive powers. Had he been named Communicator of the Year or Compromiser of the Year or Negotiator of the Year, I’d have had no problem. But Father of the Year?

            Don’t think for a minute I hold one unfortunate incident against him. If his wife saw fit to forgive him, who am I to be less tolerant? Who among us hasn’t made a mistake of some kind? But if you believe that little romp with Monica was his one and only indiscretion, I’ve got some overnight wrinkle-remover cream I want to sell you.

            You might suggest that as proof of his fathering capabilities, I look no further than his daughter. I’ll be the first to admit she appears to be a likeable, intelligent, responsible young woman. She has managed to marry well and, for the most part, stay out of the tabloids, preparing for the day she’ll run for president. But I wonder how much credit the former President can take for her successes. In my twenty-something years of teaching, I learned the best efforts of good parents can sometimes fail. And sometimes children turn out well despite their parents.

            So in an effort to understand what I considered a dubious choice, I sought out the USA Today article which reported this news. I was curious to find out exactly what the selection criteria was. In my naiveté, I assumed the list would include the old standards. You know, those out-dated, boring attributes like honesty, integrity, loyalty, fidelity. Boy, was I wrong.

            According to the National Father’s Day Council Chairman, Dan Orwig, nominees are recognized for their “...profound generosity, leadership, tireless dedication to public office and philanthropic organizations.” Oh, yeah. Organizations like the William J. Clinton Foundation. This award has a lot to do with money. The choice was beginning to make sense. Orwig went on to say this award goes to “contemporary lifestyle leaders of our culture.” And then it became crystal clear. In fact, based on that criterion, I agree with the selection. Because if anyone reflects the “contempary lifestyle” of our culture, it’s William Jefferson Clinton.

           

Say "Cheese"...and Duck

           When I asked my daughter Kristin to send me a picture of Brooks in his new room, this is what I got.

 

Seems he’s going through a phase in which he hates to have his picture taken. I can’t blame him. I’m going through that phase myself. The difference is he’ll probably outgrow it. I'll only get worse.

             It’s kind of cute when a toddler throws himself face down on the floor and refuses to have his picture made, but not so much when his grandma does it. And the strategy of ducking right before the camera clicks doesn’t work anymore. It worked thirty years ago when it took weeks to get pictures developed, but in the age of instant photo-gratification, in less than a nano-second people are on to your trick. So through trial, error, and mortification, I’ve developed some coping tactics which—using myself as an example—I’m sharing with those of you who also suffer from photophobia. Feel free to use these the next time people insist you join in the group photo. 

EXHIBIT A: DON’Ts

 

 

 

 ·         DON’T stand next to, behind, or anywhere near the youngest, skinniest people in the group.   

        (I use the word skinny as a compliment.)

·         DON’T look at the camera face-on.
·         DON’T expose any more of your body than is absolutely necessary.
·         DON’T wear anything shiny on or near body parts you don’t want emphasized, e.g. thick neck, broad shoulders. (NOTE: If you, like me, have a weakness for bright, shiny things, don’t give up wearing them. Just remove them before having your picture made.)

 

 

EXHIBIT B: DOs

 

·         DO hide behind other people or position yourself on the row farthest back.

·         DO, angle your body to the camera.

·         DO cover or camouflage as much as possible those body parts you don’t want emphasized, e.g. thick neck, broad shoulders. 

Another helpful hint is to avoid squinty, “Porky Pig” eyes by smiling only with your lips and holding your eyes open. But a word of caution here: I STRONGLY advise you practice this technique in the mirror before trying it in a picture. Otherwise, you might come out looking scared. Or scary as evidenced below.

 

 

Finally, some advice for those annoying headshots we sometimes have to provide. To avoid the expense of professional lighting, photo-shopping, and air-brushing, your best bet is to follow this acronym: KISS (Keep It Small, Stupid). I might be the only person in the country who likes her drivers license picture. In fact, the last time I renewed my license, I asked for re-prints of the photo. The agent informed me she didn’t have the right equipment. That’s unfortunate because those stamp-sized pics are perfect for hiding wrinkles, fine lines, yellowing teeth, thinning hair, enlarged pores...whatever ails ya.
 

I hope these techniques prove helpful to you. If they do, please let me know, and if you have some of your own, please share. 

Wishing you Health and Happiness in the Shiny New Year!

(And thanks to the fabulously photogenic Inklings for helping me demonstrate my techniques!)

 

'Tis the Season to be...Confused?

                        About a week ago, my daughter texted me she’d taken Brooks (her two-year-old) to the library for story time. While there, she helped him pick out two Christmas books—one about Santa Claus, one about the nativity. They read the one about Santa first. Then they read the one about the nativity. Every time they came to a picture of baby Jesus in the manger, Brooks pointed to it and said, “Ho, ho, ho!”

                        My daughter is afraid he might be a bit confused. He probably is, but then he’s only two. I think a lot of Christian adults also get confused about the reason for the season.

                        Wait! Don’t stop reading! I promise this isn't another harangue about how Christmas is too commercial. I happen to like some of that commercialism. I like giving gifts to those I love. I like decorating my house so that it’s cheerful and festive for those who visit. I like preparing a meal my family will enjoy. But it’s a matter of priority. If those activities become my main focus, if they stress me to the point I forget the message of joy and peace the first Christmas was meant to bring, then there’s a problem.

                        So in an effort to remind you—and myself—to slow down, to reflect, to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, I’m sharing my favorite Christmas carol with you. Every time I hear this song, it brings clarity to the season and reminds me again of God’s amazing gift to us. I pray it does the same for you.