Sunday, February 22, 2009

Sahara Special

My daughter has a book report to turn in this Friday. She's been reading (in tiny little fragments) Sahara Special by Esme Raji Codell for the past couple of weeks. The one thing she HAD to do today was finish the book. There were about four chapters remaining. I managed to get a proper lunch on the table and then into our tummies, after which we settled down into my big fluffy bed and we read. I made some progress on Obama's Dreams From My Father and she eventually settled into Sahara Special. I only had to totally yell at her to stop making farting sounds with her mouth once. Progress.

After an hour, Q was ready to move on to the next activity. With just two chapters left to go! This is what kills me. Your one assignment that you MUST FINISH TODAY...c'mon kid...just get the job done already! Geesh. So, I offered to read aloud to her.

Forty minutes and three tissues later, we finished reading the book.

OMG, ya'll. I am such a cry-baby. It is so embarrassing! But this is one seriously good book. Well, I can only speak for the last two chapters. They were powerful. I cried. Like I usually do. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a cry-baby for a mother. I said, "It's really saaaad! Don't you think it's sad?" I got a clear-eyed, steady, "No." for a response.


At least she has not inherited this burden of excessive sentimentality from my side of the family. My brother has been known to tear up from watching a McDonald's commercial. We are pussies. (Yeah, I said it. I've earned the right, after a lifetime of weepiness.) You don't know how many times in my life I was desperate to find some private corner in which to hide while an attack of leaky-eye-syndrome overcame me in public. It totally sucks.

As Miss Pointy says in the last chapter: "...the main character is the one who changes." I just hope that Q remains as unsentimental (yet without true snarkiness) throughout her post-pubescent years as she is now. Despite being her own main character, for her sake I hope that part doesn't change.


blognut said...

I NEVER used to cry, now I'm leaking all the time. Go figure...

Cee said...

ever since becoming a mom, I have been a crying machine!! ahhh! I love the whole farting noise thing! lol! Maybe I'll pick up that book to read on the ferry...

Hyphen Mama said...

OH MY GOD! I cry over everything. EVERYTHING. I often times wonder "Hey, I wonder where this would lead if I just allowed myself to cry over that insanely cute commercial (or song on the radio; or kodak commercial)", so I try to let it go and it then stops. Unless it's about my kids and how cute/sweet they are...then the tears roll. I'll be driving to preschool, wiping tears from my face. GOOD LORD! It's gotta be hormones. Minus the part where my mom has always told me I'm highly "sensitive." Crap, it's just me.

I'm secretly happy to know I'm not the only one.

Patois said...

Ticked me off my whole life how easily I would cry. Now, I just blame it on having had kids.

An aside: the word verification is "diaridue." Don't know why that appeals to me.

gudnuff said...

Hyphen-Mama, it probably is hormonal or brain-chemistry or whatever. Do little kids suffer from out-of-whack hormones? Because there's this little six-year-old girl two doors down from us who is so freakin' sensitive - cries at the drop of a hat - that I can finally see what it's like to be the non-emotional person in the room. Nice to be on that side of the issue for once.

Blognut and Cee, it's gotta be chemical. I think sugar and starch are the chemical antidotes, especially potent when combined and baked into cookies.

gudnuff said...

Patois, the kid excuse is 100% valid. (And "diaridue"...HA!...I like it). And I agree with's good to know I'm not the only one.

A part of me wants to change our society's perspective on this isse, reform the public's opinion about how crying is a weakness and you better not let anyone see you. But really, that's like insisting that fat is beautiful. I wish the sight of tears carried the same stigma as a cough or a sneeze does.

Since that'll never happen, we need to figure out how to Stop the Leak, Pronto! Maybe smelling salts would slap the sentiment away?