All Rileyed Up

So, for those of you still looking for a good book to buy for your loved ones, here are eleven books by Literary Mama editors and two more that I give the Riley stamp of approval to (it’s kind of a big deal on certain small islands):

1. Mama, PhD: Women Write About Motherhood & Academic Life
Edited by Elrena Evans and Caroline Grant
A literary anthology of deeply-felt personal narratives by women both in and out of the academy, writing about their experiences attempting to reconcile bodies with brains. These essays voice stories of academic women choosing to have, not have, or delay children, and make recommendations on how to make the academy a more family-friendly workplace. Candid, provocative, and sometimes with a wry sense of humor, these essays speak to and offer support for any women attempting to combine work and family.

2. Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined
Edited by Amy Hudock and Andrea J. Buchanan
This unique collection features the best of Literary Mama. It celebrates the voices of the maternally inclined, paves the way for other writer mamas, and honors the difficult and rewarding work women do as they move into motherhood.

3. Peeking Under My Skirt
by Stephanie Hunt
From intimate peeks at marriage to ruminations on candlelight, to an expose of the mayhem surrounding the annual extended family beach trip, Peeking is both lyrical and light-hearted.

4. A Ghost at Heart’s Edge: Stories and Poems of Adoption
Edited by Susan Ito
Fifty short stories and poems reveal the sometimes heartbreaking, often affirming tales of adoption, written by birth parents, adoptive parents, and adoptees.

5. The Broken Bridge: Fiction from Expatriates in Literary Japan
Edited by Suzanne Kamata
This collection of short stories is an absorbing look at the Outsider in a nation that does not absorb foreigners easily.

6. Losing Kei
by Suzanne Kamata
Jill Parker is an American painter living in Japan who must choose between freedom and abandoning her child. Told with tenderness, humor, and an insider’s knowledge of Japanese family life; an exceptional expatriate voice.

7. Love You To Pieces: Creative Writers on Raising a Child with Special Needs
Edited by Suzanne Kamata
The first collection of literary writing on raising a child with special needs, Love You to Pieces features families coping with autism, deafness, muscular dystrophy, Down syndrome and more. Here, poets, memoirists, and fiction writers paint beautiful, wrenchingly honest portraits of caring for their children, laying bare the moments of rage, disappointment, and guilt that can color their relationships. Parent-child communication can be a challenge at the best of times, but in this collection we witness the struggles and triumphs of those who speak their own language—or don’t speak at all—and those who love them deeply.

8. Generation
by Sharon Kraus
Generation maps the survival of a traumatic childhood. Kraus masters the toxic fall-out of abusive experiences by rendering them fiercely meaningful, almost as a dance or a biblical drama.

9. Strange Land
by Sharon Kraus
Chronicling the life of a woman embarking on marriage and contemplating motherhood, these poems wrestle with the narrator’s violent childhood and work to reconcile her past with the course of her future.

10. Real Life and Liars
by Kristina Riggle
As a wilted flower child, Mira Zielinski has never been one to follow orders. Not from her husband, not from her boss - not even from her oncologist. Mira has her own idea about handling her newly diagnosed breast cancer, and it does not involve hopping up on the operating table. Her grown children will no doubt object — when she gets around to telling them.

11. The Maternal Is Political: Women Writers at the Intersection of Motherhood and Social Change
Edited by Shari MacDonald Strong
Exploring the vital connection between motherhood and social change, The Maternal Is Political features forty-four powerful, hard-hitting literary essays by women who are striving to make the world a better place for children and families—both their own and other women’s—in this country and globally.

12. One Bird One Stone: 108 American Zen Stories
By Sean Murphy
Amazing collection of stories and interviews with Zen masters living in America.

13. A Thousand Dollars for a Kiss
by Cindy Bokma
Dark chick lit comedy about what happens when a celeb-obsessed gal ignores everyone in her life to pal around with her favorite music star.

Today, I attended a “mother’s day with muffins” celebration at preschool. I attended The Boy’s party at 8:45. I arrived at 8:55. I guess my watch was off. I’m still getting used to the automatic watch Husband gave me for my birthday. If you don’t wear it for a couple days, it loses time and/or stops ticking altogether and you have to shake it up to get it going again. Anyway, we arrived at preschool, and I enjoyed a deliciously high calorie muffin that has ruined my SparkPeople calorie intake for the day. The Boy presented me with my mother’s day gift, a potted marigold. That was about it. Last year, the kids serenaded us, but this year there was no song—which is just as well, since The Boy spent last year’s portion of song time scratching himself while I whispered “don’t do that!”

I like this marigold more than last year’s gift, which was a hand-painted wooden picture frame a la the wood crafts aisle at Michael’s. It contained a picture of The Boy, with a toy riding horse in the background (the old-school kind that’s connected to a metal bottom frame with springs). I thought the background décor odd until I saw the other moms’ picture frames: their children were on the horse and smiling at the camera. In The Boy’s photo, he is sitting on the ground, scratching himself, and frowning. They said it was the best shot they could get because “he was really itchy that day.” I kept the picture in the frame, maybe as a reminder that eczema sucks. It was nice to look at it today and think, well, at least he would get on the horse this time around. Although, to be honest, after almost a year of no gluten and such, I had expected his skin to look better than it does. But that’s a whole other post.

I left the mother’s day party and returned an hour and a half later for the second “mother’s day with muffins” party in Little No Limit’s class. At least I was on time for this one (I set my watch). Same exact party, whole new cast of moms. The teachers all joked about how I do double duty on the party days since I have children in each of the pre-K classes. Little No Limit was exceptionally proud to present me with my marigold. This is her first mother’s day present for me. She drew a card that said “I Love My Mom because she bakes cupcakes.” Her drawing of me looked a bit like a submarine, and between that and the cupcakes remarks, I’m concerned she may be trying to tell me something.

I left that party at the same time as one of the other mothers and we discussed our upcoming IEPs and how our children are faring in the program and the many hoops we have to jump through for different services. We talked about the questionnaires, the interviews, the casualty with which the school refers to how they perceive our children. At one point in the conversation, I said “The only thing I know is that I don’t know.” I thought about the remark on the ride home, and truthfully, I don’t even remember what question of hers provoked that response. There were so many things we talked about that that could have been the answer to, and they all began with but how do they know… and how do they differentiate that from… So many concerns tossed between us like we were wanting to hear the other say, yeah, me too but at the same time, hear something of comfort like, yeah, me too, but I still think it will all work out.

The kids are now home from school. My morning conversation is falling into the blurry past as I help with bubble blowing and coloring, and protect the dogs from “playtime.” Later, we might take the bikes to the beach.

All in all, a typical day.

I came across Write From Karen, who asks the question, What does it mean to be a mom? Well, since I stay at home, I considered what I do on a typical day:

I bring the kids to school.

I eat a muffin.

I serve myself up a heaping dollop of self-doubt.

I spend time with the kids.

And I get over it.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it all again. Except for the muffin.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple marigolds to plant.