Enjoying The Now

If I could reverse the hands of time and have a heart-to-heart with the mama I was just five short years ago, I would tell her this: Recognize & Rejoice in the season of Motherhood you are currently in. For all its worth. Surrender freely, Tiffany. 

There is a time and purpose to every phase in your life. Just as we can't enjoy autumns vibrant colors in April, or picnic on a soft grassy lawn in January, neither can we expect to have all the treasures of a lifetime of seasons packed into today...to be constantly wishing away the current season, because the next season seems more appealing, is to miss the fragrance of lilacs after spring rain because you cannot wait for barbecues by the pool. ~from the book, Deliberate Motherhood. #nowisnow

xoxo,

Tiffany

Book Review: Falling Kingdoms

We were cruising down the road the other evening and I told my husband that it is that time of year again -- the candy tax season. The kids are collecting buckets of Halloween candy and I feel I could dive into it and eat it all up.

And that is how I feel about my most recent read: Falling Kingdoms. 

I failed to snap a picture of the book // book cover while I had it -- and sadly, returned it to the library. But I somehow managed to document pictures of my kids returning our library loot. 

Hopefully one day soon, I'll have a really wicked bookshelf to photograph. 

Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1) 

War is coming. In a land divided into three kingdoms, old resentments ignite when a young lord slays a merchant boy of the neighboring and long-oppressed Paelsia. Hungry for justice and power, northernmost kingdom Limeros allies with Paelsia, and both swear to bring the extravagantly wealth southernmost kingdom, Auranos, to its knees.

But feuding kingdoms are only the backdrop for the personal journeys of the young people whose lives are upended by the conflict. Princess Cleo of Auranos struggles to be a perfect princess, but her headstrong will to secure safety and happiness for herself and her loved ones thwarts her efforts. Jonas of Paelsia loses his brother to an arrogant young lord and vows to seek vengeance for him. Princess Lucia of Limeros conceals a dangerous secret from her family. Her brother, Prince Magnus, yearns to prove himself to his formidable father and tries to suppress his love for someone he cannot have.

Falling Kingdoms is told from the alternating perspectives of these four characters. Occasionally, a chapter follows the mysterious spirit Ioannes, who surveys the activities of select humans through the eyes of hawks. His appearances read as setup for the novel’s planned sequels, which are sure to delve more deeply into the mythology established in this volume. Suffice it to say that the world of the three kingdoms used to be one kingdom in which elemental magic was practiced, but a conflict between goddesses led to the scattering of the elementia, gems essential for the mastery of such magic, and the possibility of such power began to fade from the dividing world.

The strength of this book lies in its often morally ambiguous characters and plot twists. It gives the reader plenty of opportunities to pick sides, and the choice is never entirely straightforward. Who will win the war? Who should win the war? Should Cleo fall in love with the arrogant nobleman, the chivalric guard or her loyal best friend? Perhaps even the Paelsian rebel? The surly Prince of Limeros. 

I feel that Falling Kingdoms is compared to George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series, more commonly known as “Game of Thrones,” the title of the television series based on the books, because they share similar plot goals. Making me feel Falling Kingdoms is honestly a bit unoriginal. 

While FALLING KINGDOMS has a narrower scope, focuses almost exclusively on teenage protagonists and involves a much heartier helping of romance, the comparisons are not entirely unfounded. Both Rhodes and Martin are unflinching in their willingness to kill even the characters you thought were the safest. Both achieve their shining moments in their portrayals of morally ambiguous characters. (The chapters featuring Magnus, the angry and tortured Prince of Limeros, are consistently the most engrossing because the reader cannot quite decide how to feel about him.) Further, Rhodes’ and Martin’s high fantasy stories include the return of magic, scheming witchy advisors and royal incest. 

Obviously my love for Game of Thrones is stronger here. I feel the Fire and Ice series is untouchable on my favorite list. George R. R. Martin's writing techniques are more serious, adult novels and truly embraces fantasy. It's one of my flaws with Falling Kingdoms. The language of the book sometimes sounds too modern for the Middle Ages-esque setting of most high fantasy novels and occasionally makes reference to cultural touchstones of European origin. In one such moment, a character says, “My kingdom for a handkerchief,” a play on a famous line from Shakespeare’s “Richard III,” which the inhabitants of Auranos have certainly never seen. Regardless, Rhodes also writes her characters with plenty of passion and forces her readers to feel every longing and betrayal. 

Despite feeling like Rhodes often writes more modern -- and feeling like her high fantasy novel isn't as thick in lore -- feeling like her writing is watered down -- I ate it up like candy. I just couldn't get enough of this series. 

I know Rhodes writing in this story fell flat to a lot of readers and after watching plenty of reviews about the first book - I completely understand why. The writing is a slight turn off to me -- as a twenty-six year old woman -- it is geared for a teenage audience. However it didn't stop me from powering through the book within two days. 

In fact, maybe that is why it made this book so easy to read and made it a guilty pleasure read. Unlike most high fantasy novels, this book was direct and to the point. The book wasn't written at a slow pace and didn't stop to drag out descriptions. It wasn't deep into the lore. 

Sure, I would have loved reading a more serious fantasy novel but I have other series for that. I can always switch over and power through Game of Thrones for a deeper adult story. 

Falling Kingdoms is excellent for what it is. An introduction into a teenage high fantasy novel. 

I think the author tried to place her story up there with George R. R. Martin's novels but that is simply a unattainable goal. I don't think people should even honestly compare the two series because this is a YA series and Game of Thrones is an adult high fantasy series. George R. R. Martin owns that adult fantasy level. Falling Kingdoms should be appreciated for what it is. 

And honestly, it reminded me of my guilty pleasure -- the CW's Reign TV show. 

I ate this book up. I have read so many reviews that were so/so about the first book but I found it fun and easy to read. I dived straight into the world and I'm anxious to power through the series. 

So would I recommend this book to my fantasy loving friends? Yes, I would. 

xoxo,

Tiffany

It’s Just A Bunch Of Hocus Pocus

Winifred Sanderson: My ungodly book speaks to you. On All Hallow's Eve, when the moon is round, a virgin will summon us from under the ground. Oh oh! We shall be back, and the lives of all the children of Salem will be mine!

[All three witches cackle]

Winifred Sanderson: Twist the bones and bend the back

Sarah, Mary Sanderson: Itch-it-a-cop-it-a-Mel-a-ka-mys-ti-ca

Winifred Sanderson: Trim him of his baby fat

Sarah, Mary Sanderson: Itch-it-a-cop-it-a-Mel-a-ka-mys-ti-ca

Winifred Sanderson: Give him fur black as black, just

Mary Sanderson: Like

Sarah: This!

October 

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Where The Wild Things Are

"Faith includes noticing the mess. the emptiness, and discomfort -- and letting it be there until some light returns." --Anne Lamont 

Motherhood. This is my job. The one I am blessed to do every damn day. It never ends. It is constant. I might feel stressed, overwhelmed, and exhausted at times -- but I will hold my tongue. Not give negativity any airtime. And only speak into existence words that help and not hinder me. There are moments when I fail and moments where I fall -- but I will not break. I can do this. And I can do this well.

The kids were feeling beyond frazzled today -- hopping into the car straight out of the doors from school in a funk. A heavy week of school weighing down on their souls. And I'm convinced that having TOO much electronic time makes them more moody - more frazzled - and causes more chaos than needs to be in our household. 

Being home only a few short hours from school - bringing in the weekend - and hearing my kids shouting at each other and one in tears - I decided to unplug everyone and take them out to the woods until the sun sets. 

I'm convinced that the crisp autumn air and the smell of pine can cure any funk -- and sure enough, it cured my kids. 

The boredom and the weight of the week melted away as they found magical wizard staff's and jumped into a good ole' sibling duel of magic and imagination. 

We soaked in the fresh air and watched the dead leaves drift down from the bare branches. 

Pretty great Friday night in my books.

xoxo,
Tiffany 

Book Review: Gotham Academy

A graphic novel about the most prestigious school in Gotham City. But of course, this is Gotham City we are talking about so this school is a bit ... special!

In a prestigious yet creepy school, a bickering alliance of oddball pupils investigate secret passages and strange going on's. These kids may be types but they are not stereotypes, and they move and react with manga-influenced charm.   

The buildings loom and creak in just the way Gotham should, and all the adults are subtly bizarre, except for Gotham's most famous resident. I really loved the creepy - dark - shadows and prep school vibe.

It honestly gave me a Harry Potter vibe.

The novels really surprised me. The intrigued of the past and present mysteries and the monster antics. 

Reading so many graphic novels leaves me wishing I could draw...

Stranger Things Inspired

"Hey."  

This voice is different, and it pulls me up from the dark cavern of sleep and out of the reach of the nightmare. I peel my heavy eyes open, and peek up from behind my fortress of blankets. Mom is already dressed, standing in the doorway in a pretty soft colored dress, and her fluffy brown hair waves around her olive face.  

I smell bacon and eggs in the air and can hear the radio echoing down the hallway as mom plays the tunes softly from the kitchen.  

"Who were you talking to?" 

Mom walks into the room, her eyes noticing the mess on the floor, but her eyes don't linger and she doesn't scold me on it. She switches the lamp beside the bed on. I squint for a second with the last images of the nightmare fading away in my brain. 

"Just a dream," I reply. 

The sun is barely up in the sky. It is October, and a chill wind blows through the trees in the front yard beyond my window. If you put your hand up to the glass of the window, you would be able to feel the autumn chill. The sharp claws of winter scratch at the Earth, begging to grab a hold of autumn and rip it apart, and soon there will be nothing left but harsh winter days. Winter on the mountain clings tightly like a black cat. We haven't had snow yet, but it is only an amount of time before it drizzles down from the burst of dark clouds that hang forever in the skies of the mountain.  

"Get dressed and join me for breakfast."  

"Oh and.." Mom turns before walking out of the room, "heavy sweater, you hear?"  

"I hear," I answer back and climb out of bed.  

The lamplight glazes over my bedroom in a hue of dark yellow, glowing, as it blends with the morning light filtering in through the window, together combined they cast out the shadows of midnight.

I can feel the bitter air tickling it's way up my arms, causing my arm hairs to poke forward and I steal a glance at my space heater that has not been working properly. I wish dad would have fixed it. I instantly wish I could curl back into the comfort of my bed and soak up the warmth one last time.  

I wiggle my toes on the red Indian rug on my bedroom floor as I stand and stretch. My mother and father had an argument once that I'm a girl and should have lady-like things, like my older sister, but the argument resulted in me getting my way. My sister's bedroom had been painted pink upon moving into the house, and I had repulsed the idea of my own bedroom being pink. I could only think of the shit I would receive from my friends if my room were to be pink. 

The bedroom is my sanctuary, my own fortress against the darkness of the world, and here I am protected from the enemies that lurk in the shadows. The desk with the seven mystic drawers is where I do my homework every night but I honestly spend more hours there reading my comic books and drawing up my own heroes. Mom has allowed me to buy a small aquarium holding these tiny goldfish too. Mom isn't big about having pets.  

My dresser top is covered in airplane model kits that me and dad had worked on together relentlessly. Every time I look at those airplanes, I smile. 

I opened the dresser and pull out a heavy red sweater.  

A stack of Batman and Justice League comic books sit waiting anxiously for me on my desk. Brand let me borrow his latest issues to catch up on and read since I haven't been allowed to buy the most recent issues. Mom said they need be watching what they spend from now on. Penny pinching or something. Whatever. I think that is an adult excuse to buy only adult things.  

My shelves go on and on. I'm pretty sure if they could talk, they would tell a tale of my life, and the grand adventure that is me. A collection of marbles gleams in a mason jar on my top shelf on the wall. I also have a yo-yo that even my friends got jealous over but the string is broken and is something I will have to work on fixing. 

"Breakfast is on!" Mom calls.

I button up my flannel shirt and tug on my red sweater. My blue jeans have patches on the knees, like badges of courage marking adventures with barbed wire and gravel. Things I have done with my friends. I sit on the unmade bed and force my feet into my boots. 

Before leaving my bedroom, I grab my pocket knife, the orange one with an eagle carved into it and stuff it into my pocket. The trusty knife was gifted to me many moons ago by my favorite person in the world: my granddaddy Jaybird. Or that's what the grown ups called him.  

Jaybird had a curiosity about life.  Whenever my sister was born, he held her and smiled, but kept her at a distance as she grew, as if not knowing what to say to a kid in ribbons and ruffles. But then I came bursting into the world, riding bikes, reading comic books and being the only girl on the playground who can fight the boys, well Jaybird took a fancy to me. It made me feel special.  

The one thing we shared was the spirit for adventure. He was seventy-eight and tough as beef jerky, and he had a foul mouth and a foul disposition, but you could always find him prowling around outside. He knew the mountain well. He had lived up in a cabin deep in the woods of these Mountains, near the empty mines all of his life. He was a true mountain man.  

Jaybird use to bring home things to grandma from his walks, the kind of things that would unsettle any other woman, but not grandma. I fondly remember the collection of snakeskins, furs, mason jars and bones of animals he had found up on the mountain. He would hold me up and let me touch the mountain treasures. He would tell folktales of mountain magic.  

Maybe he was crazy. But on Sunday dinners after church let out, everyone would sit around the table and talk except Jaybird. No, he would seek me out and we'd both would sit on the sofa and he would read a book with me and fill my head of stories of haunted houses and stories of the mines. I loved Jaybird. And when he passed away, it hurt to leave him in a hole in the ground up on that snowy mountain. Sometimes the memory of walking away, hand-in-hand with my mother, tear-streaked face, looking back on him still haunts me to this day.  

I snug the knife tightly in her pocket.