There are two things that can stop a husband and wife fighting. (This is perhaps my little marriage or friendship primer). One option is for both people to turn totally neutral, hearts reaching to express love, especially if apologizing. Fights are melted. It’s scary at first, maybe, to apologize or start a real sincere conversation without blaming, but disaster is averted.

Another: laugh if something ridiculous happens. I guess a third situation would be if some catastrophe occurs, making it so all tension over a dumb argument is rendered unimportant. Big things make fights look stupid. (Of course, focusing on the little zany children of ours also help us to see the big, lovey picture).

During our recent squabble, he made me laugh, then held my hand. So a little of Stopping the Fight, Routes Two and One. My guy is wise and our marriage gets better and better. One particular evening last week, though? It was tough. Here’s the story:

We’re out on a Sunday night, which probably contributes to some cold thorns and exhaustion, no matter how cool the plans are. I am pregnant. I get tired and sensitive. He gets bristled and can act like a dude. We are walking, two kids, no stroller, on a crowded street in Tokyo’s Omotesando. The ballet of Moses starts in twelve minutes, but he and my daughter leave us to backtrack, cross the footbridge, then rejoin us with convenience store food and drinks. It is a tense walk when parents fight and each has one kid. Nothing feels okay.

The lineup is this, I tell him that week and maybe on the train ride over. We will see excerpts from Sleeping Beauty and then a full production of Moses. I grab us seats on a bench and lay down our scarves and jackets. Just two rows back and no orchestra pit, we see the dancers’ every breath and flexed muscle. We’re enveloped by dim lights, Tchaikovsky’s score, and long lines in arabesque.

Maybe fifteen minutes in, four fairy dances later, plus the black fairy/evil witch’s incantation over the tiny princess baby, Aurora is about to be woken up by her prince. At this point, my guy leans over and asks, “Is the blue one Moses?”

I am stumped and mystified. “You’re absolutely joking, right?” Do I smile or look slack-jawed and stunned?

“Um, no. So who is Moses? The blue one?”

The divide is gone. He can’t possibly really think that the blue, winged fairy dancing beside Sleeping Beauty, infant Princess Aurora, with a gift at her Christening, is baby Moses. Can he? Who does he think Pharao is—the black fairy turned terrible enchantress?

This is like seeing Broadway’s Rent and twenty minutes in, thinking it’s The Book of Mormon. Or Sound of Music? I thought this was Fiddler on the Roof!

Heads turn as I try to stifle my laughs. We hold hands as he says a bit mystified, “I did think that was the strangest rendition of Moses I had ever seen.”

And that, friends, is how you stop a fight. Look for the laughter and hold hands.

–Learning to Appreciate Our Differences & Similarities –

Best Children’s Books Featuring Multicultural Characters

A good children’s book has the ability to open up places in the mind and heart, to bring new words and expressions into the landscape of a children’s brain. Reading books with rich diversity can open up discussions that go well beyond comprehension. The ideas and concepts that children and families pull from books can bleed into their world, creating more opportunities to expand one’s ideas of friendship and discovery. 

Here is just a small smattering of such books we’ve discovered here in our house.

Enjoy! This is a prompt brought to us by Multicultural Kids Blogs and Pack-n-Go Girls.

First up, Hug Me, by the extraordinary Simona Ciraolo:

This is the story of a prickly cactus, desperate for the closeness of a hug. This is not the thing to do or be in his prickly environment. He’ll hurt any animal, poke any soft thing, and his family expects total complacency, NO HUGS.

This is a book that while not preaching any message, can help us see the needs of those around us. It may help children see more of what they have to offer, too. We may have to be a bit creative with those who need extra care, including ourselves. Isn’t this what we hope for our kids? They that will be strong friends and will see goodness even through spikes. Felipe is the best name, too. I love every illustration and want to see more from this author/illustrator, who, by the way, grew up in Italy.

~

Next up, a book that is aimed at the Young Adult readers, Gadget Girl, by Suzanne Kamata. Incidentally, I have had the privilege of interviewing this prolific, award-winning author. Our conversation is here. Besides the superb writing, the standout feature is that her main character, Aiko, has cerebral palsy. This is not a trait often found in books, certainly not pertaining directly to the main character.

Aiko is also bicultural, of American and Japanese heritage. She is being raised by a single mother, dealing with all of the typical fifteen-year-old stuff, plus navigating her own unique terrain. She is complex and talented. Hooray for such a person with a disability being painted so beautifully.

Such a well-written chapter book could be read aloud by parents to children and discussed. It is so refreshing to meet this main character who teaches us and shows us her life with a different gait. It helps me be more ready to understand and befriend someone with any range of special needs. Aiko also helps me to look beyond the physical as she is witty and possesses a great passion for art.

~

Sometimes language or lack of language can be a disability. Kids and their parents may be teased. Living abroad now, raising children who are in school, I understand, more than ever, the pressure kids and families can face as they try to establish themselves in the community, meet needs, and gather friends.

Enter YOKO books, by the beloved Rosemary Wells! We first discovered the original YOKO, the Japanese cat who lives in America and brings in sushi lunches and red bean ice cream, to her classmates’ horror.

The idea of Difference is paramount in YOKO. The drawings and Japanese washi paper used in Ms. Wells’ illustrations are lush and dialogue is realistic with plenty of “EEWS” and a “YUCKORAMA” thrown in. YOKO, like many of our children, doesn’t quite fit. She is across two worlds. YOKO is becoming bicultural as well as bilingual.

Did you know there are other YOKO books? Look!

YOKO Learns to Read and YOKO Writes Her Name You’ll be rooting for this sweet cat and her hardworking mother.

Yes, kids will look different, act differently. No one is totally alike! We come from a wealth of backgrounds, languages, and experiences. DNA. Fingerprints. No one is the same, but we can become aware of the similarities that bridge gaps and help us understand bigger things.

We may not like our own differences, of course.

Freckleface Strawberry knows all about that and so does the fabulous Julianne Moore, yes, that actress, and the book’s creator.

She is teased to no end and resorts to the kinds of “remedies” found in Judy Blume’s Freckle Juice. Remember that goodie?

Often characters grow by first accepting their own differences. I know. All of us struggle with this. It’s a lifetime thing.

~

Last up is another classic, stories by Ezra Jack Keats! We own this collection, Keat’s Neighborhood.

Besides the timeless nature of his characters and plots, Mr. Ezra Jack Keats was a forerunner in creating diverse books for children.x A Jewish author and illustrator in New York, he was the first noted creator to give us a main character of color. Peter, as in Peter’s Chair and Snowy Day was perhaps the first African American character that kids, all kids, would come to love. Ezra Jack Keats bridged gaps and didn’t just mend fences; he built ladders and forts with his characters. All of this was legendary, groundbreaking stuff. An author/illustrator didn’t have to create another See Dick Run book. He expressly went out of his own cultural background and into another. He did so with aplomb, giving us someone to whom we could relate.

Additionally, in A Letter for Amy, Peter invites his friend, Amy, to his party. She is the only girl, much to his friends’ chagrin. Hello, friendships beyond gender. Hello, children seeing others as friends and not the enemy.

Well, that is my first take on enjoying books of diversity with my clan. There are so many gorgeous books worth exploring and collecting.

Again, this is just a peek, a part 1, into my grouping of children’s book with multicultural characters! I did not include any Sandra Cisneros, any Yangsook Choi, Angela Johnson, or two dozen other incredible authors. Okay? Officially, let’s call this a “To Be Continued”. There’s just so much and the need is there. We are a world of diverse readers. We need good libraries and of course, follow-up discussions.

What else do you suggest for our modest home library? What is a must?

Here I am here waiting after peeing in a cup. It’s been a rough morning, taking the trains, using my navi system to find, but not find the bank, getting lost so that I walk six extra blocks with this growing babe in my tummy. It’s pressure. It’s getting heavy.

Then, after finally arriving late, I couldn’t fill out my forms. I never remember which Kanji (Chinese characters) refers to my birthdate and which asks for today’s date. I get emotional bringing in another life when I still flounder. It’s pretty nuts. I remember those fears before I ever became pregnant.

Photo by my unbelievable friend

http://melwillms.com/

And yet, G-d becomes more real in these moments. You have come through in dazzling ways that turned over what might have been, I think. 

I am the pregnant woman crying on the banquet. Tears just come as I finally sit. It’s a chance to reflect and change my thoughts.

G-d is the One who gives me comfort and stillness, then chance–a million glimmery chances to rock myself with the comfort of enduring, surviving goodness.

I hear the music.

Every time I come, there is every song I need to hear. “Oh, I believe in yesterday”, because G-d’s peace was there, too. Two months ago, when I came to verify my pregnancy, it was Judy Collins–that song I sang to my beautiful Grandpa. Every other visit, it’s Izzy’s rays of ukelele love, Somewhere Over the Rainbow coming through. This is the song we blew bubbles to at our wedding sendoff. There’s also the time I heard “Hey, Jude” which became the name of our son. I had just written the name that morning and then, boom: Jude was emanating from speakers.

I sit four pregnant women from the left and five from the right, plus all of them in front. We are all here, trusting in Your goodness to some extent. In present form, You support the living. You make room for babies. You raise them up from seed and open up our lungs to take in fragrance, to dive to Asiatic depths and zoom up in flight. It is startling.

~!~

I relax, supported.

I blew up pink balloons this morning with these same lungs I breathe more evenly with now, tears no longer falling down. If they do, they’re the happy kind.

I spurted air from those pink balloons at my son before tying knots. This is the love a mother, too, needs to feel. I breathe and pfffhhhhhewwww at his cheek and turn his soft neck into giggles.

We explode. We come to life in the place of love and all they say about trust. We hope in your unfailing kindness.

We grow, we bend, we birth.