The protagonist is the SAHM of two young children and she is struggling with the tedium and inexorability of motherhood. McLarin describes it with painful accuracy; anyone who has ever been driven batty by the daily demands of a three-year-old will surely recognize themselves in this book. Of course she fantasizes about running off and abandoning them. What SAHM hasn’t?

Fortunately Jump at the Sun isn’t just about the daily demands, etc. It also has history, flashbacks, sociology & race relations, life, death, marriage, and lots of other good stuff. But it is mainly about parenting, and if you’re a bookish introvert who has ever chafed at the bonds of motherhood you will definitely appreciate this novel. You might not love it. The plot twists were a little too convenient, and the language at times was a little unbelievable (okay she’s an academic, but does that really give her the right to use the word enchiridion to describe a parenting book?). But you will definitely appreciate it.

Joey has a drum kit and he started taking private lessons through the school last fall. Just this week he started Rock Band 101 along with four other 12yos (2 guitar, 1 keyboard, 1 bass). He was soooo excited, and, I must confess, so was I. In fact, I think all the moms were pretty excited. Can you picture it? Five moms sitting in the lobby, getting all misty over the opening riff of “You Really Got Me.”

Wait a second…

Rock ‘n roll isn’t supposed to involve moms driving their kids to class, paying for lessons, checking with the teacher to see how well they practiced this week, waiting proudly in the lobby. I mean, isn’t the glamour & romance of rock ‘n roll all about defying parents and learning it the hard way?

On the other hand, those mommy moments don’t come so often when they’re 12. I’ll take ‘em any way I can get ‘em.

My dear husband Steve, who teaches high school social studies, has three preps this semester instead of the usual two, including one class he’s never taught before, called Current History — how’s that for an oxymoron? And he has to teach first hour, which means he has to be out the door by 7 a.m. Plus, he is taking two graduate-level history courses. I know it will be very nice when he finally gets that Masters and we move over to the next column on the pay scale, but right now it’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you. Because twice a week he is not only out the door by 7 a.m. but he doesn’t get home until well after the kids are in bed.

And then there’s the kids. I’ve always tried to keep extracurricular activities to a minimum. I just read an article suggesting that parents “limit” their kids to three each. Yeah, right. I can barely keep up with Joey’s two (martial arts & drum) and Lena’s one (violin). The drumming has been really interesting, by the way. The nice thing about drums is — no wrong notes! But the flip side of that is, it’s hard to tell if you’re making a mistake. It’s not like, say, the violin, where you can hear right away if you’ve played a wrong note or if your intonation is off. Joey needs someone (i.e., me) to read along while he plays to make sure he’s got the right rhythm, and it takes some concentration to do that. While I’m on the subject, though, I’d like to give a little plug to Ann Arbor’s very own Rock Band School, where Joey’s taking lessons. How cool is that?

Anyway, I am trying to keep up with carpooling to martial arts twice a week, music lessons once a week — and don’t let that fool you because even though the lesson is once a week the practice is daily and as I just explained, I have to practice with Joey and of course I have to practice with Lena too because she is only 8. And there is a weekly trip out to our CSA to pick up our share of the produce — total time for that, at least an hour. And the kids have homework now, too…

Oh yeah, I also have a freelance design business. How could I forget? I have a huge deadline looming next week…

What a whiner, huh? I know that I’m a very lucky lady, actually. I have many blessings and I try not to take them for granted. I don’t mean to whine. I just wanted to explain why I haven’t been blogging much lately. And boy it feels good to vent. :)

When I was a kid we didn’t have a tv, which meant that I had almost always read the book before I saw the movie. And even back then I was usually disappointed by the movie. The worst offender — to this day, I have not gotten over it — was The Wizard of Oz.

[SPOILER ALERT for the book version]

Folks, it’s not supposed to be a dream! In the book she doesn’t get knocked on the head! Everything that happens really happens! Oz is supposed to be a real place!

Mary Poppins was another huge disappointment for me. I’ve gotten over it now; at least, I can appreciate the movie on its own merits, if not as an adaptation of the book. But the thing that fascinates me to this day about the book, and which is not nearly apparent enough in the movie, is that Mary Poppins was mean! She was vain and haughty and gruff and sallow and totally humorless. Yet everyone loves her. Whereas, although Julie Andrews tried, bless her heart, she just could not suppress those pink cheeks and twinkling eyes.

Anyway, I signed up for Treasure Island, which I’ve neither read nor seen. I hope you’ll head on over to Veronica’s and sign up for a book, too. This is gonna be fun!

Does it sound like I’ve suddenly gone bipolar? No, it’s much simpler than that: my youngest child is in preschool. Three days a week for a total of fifteen, I said fifteen, hours. My god what it means to me to have peace and quiet in my own home for five hours at a time. This isn’t just “great, now I can get stuff done.” This is a really, really huge thing for me. If you aren’t a person who lives in her head and is happiest when alone you won’t get this at all.

My friend Sarah gets it. When she said praise the Lord she was really praising the Lord. I don’t share her faith; my religious beliefs, such as they are, do not include a god who involves himself (herself?) in the affairs of humans at such an intimate level; however, I cannot deny that it was kinda cool to have someone praise the Lord on my behalf. I was very moved, in fact.