Just An Average Book Lover

Books are extraordinary things, aren’t they? They’re an adventure across the globe, an intimate lunch with your friend, and a visit to the therapist, all wrapped up in one. They have extraordinary possibility, contained in an ordinary cover which can be held in the palm of your hand.

If you know me, you know that I absolutely love books. I consider it to be the one thing that I collect, besides moments. My happy places include: bookstores, libraries, any spot near a bookcase filled with books, or pretty much any little cozy spot to sit with a stack of books. I dream of having a library of a room someday. Belle is probably my favorite princess if you wondered, and for obvious reasons. (Also because I have a four year old daughter and we have these type of conversations.)

I lived in a small town where most of us walked home after the bell rang, signaling the end of our elementary school day. I was a good kid, who would go directly home and upon my arrival, I would immediately call my mother, who I knew was at work and intently waiting for said phone-call.

Except that one time. The local librarian had been in our classroom that day, informing us of the upcoming summer reading challenge. You know the one, where you keep track of the books you read over summer break, and somehow, when you hit some number or benchmark I don’t really recall, you got a coupon for fresh personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut. (THAT I recall. I mean, what child from the eighties doesn’t remember those? I haven’t been there in years, but just remembering this makes me think about revisiting that situation. But I digress.)

I decided that a few extra minutes to make the extra stop at the library would be okay. I mean, this happened to take me a good 7-10 minutes out of my way, but it didn’t seem too long, and the act of signing up would be simple. I reasoned that I’d be home in no time, just a “few” extra minutes and I decided to go. The pull of books and a challenge was strong. (Now that I think about it, maybe also the pizza?)

It should also be noted that seeing this was sometime around 1989 and 1991, there were no cell phones. I could make a quick phone call or send a quick text to my mom. The only communication, besides going to the school office and asking to borrow their phone (which I have a vague feeling that this was frowned upon), was that phone hanging on the wall in our kitchen. I reasoned I’d be there soon enough. It would be fine. I hedged my bets and headed the opposite direction of home.

I loved being there, surrounded by those tall shelves and endless book possibilities. But I did get a little panicky while trying to execute the mission. I felt the time ticking away while a few friends and I waited for the librarian to be able to help us. She seemed to have other people to keep helping, and the phone to answer. And one time, that phone was ringing for me.

Somehow, as I stood there, filling out the sign up sheet at the library, a very unusual place to be at that time, my mom had figured out where I might be. I still don’t know how she did it. Did she guess and come up with a (very short) list of possibilities? Did she call the school and hear from the teacher that some kids had been talking about going to the library? I’ll pribably never know the answer to that now. Much time has passed, and it will remain a fabled parenting win in my childhood record books. She wasn’t mad, I didn’t get in big trouble. I had just worried her, and she somehow figured out where to find me: with the books.

Well that’s where I can still be found. With the books. In my home, with some overstuffed bookshelves and stacks of books in the guest room. With a book tucked into my bag, with a child on my lap and a storybook in my hand.

I have more books than time allows me to keep up with these days, but I do manage to read *most* to the books that my lovely book club friends and I choose, and a few besides. I’m reading a lot of great non-fiction books, too.

This love affair with books also includes children’s books. I read an impressive amount of this “genre” of literature. We have an extensive and, because I can’t help myself, still growing collection of children’s books. The collection started as mine, before I had any children of my own, and even before I was married. I opened a book the other day to read to the kids and found it inscribed with my maiden name.

As a nanny I have spent lots of time reading to “my” kids over the past 20 years or so. Now with my own young children, one of my absolute favorite things to do is sit and read with them every day, their small bodies pressed against me, or even both of them on my lap. I heard one what recently about the “1,000 books by kindergarten” reading challenge. I had a moment of sadness, as my daughter was approaching 4 years old and kindergarten wasn’t far off. Then I did the quick math, and realized that was about three books per day FOR A YEAR. We had that one in the bag by the time she turned two! And we haven’t stopped.

Seeing as I spend so much time sitting on the floor reading a variety of little people books, and also try to find time to curl up in a chair to read grown up ones, I thought I’d share my reviews with you as I go, being a natural sharer as I am. Including, and maybe even most importantly, children’s books Even if you don’t have kids, the children’s books are totally worth checking out yourself sometime (they can so succinctly and beautifully share important things.) They would also make great gifts the next time the need arises.

So I hope that you enjoy as I continue to find and share the treasures that these books are. It is undoubtedly a way to “court the extraordinary” in life. While I’m not disciplined or voracious enough of a reader to call myself a “book nerd”, I am undoubtedly a book LOVER. You can still find me by the books. Though I prefer to enjoy them now with coffee or wine, depending. Pizza is optional, if I’m being honest.