I had the wonderful privilege of interviewing best-selling author Jacquelyn Mitchard about her upcoming book No Time to Wave Goodbye. A mother of seven (who is adopting two more from Ethiopia), she is an inspiration to us all, especially those of us who say we don't have time to write. Stop by my other blog and leave a comment. You might win a copy of her new book. If not, you can still read about this great woman. Just click HERE.
Recently my friend, Elizabeth, wrote about falling in love with reading. I could certainly relate. Along with remembering my own long-term relationships with school librarians, I also recalled the first books that converted my children.
My three have always been read to and were intent listeners, carrying around their favorite picture books so much they literally loved the covers off. But each of them has had one book that transformed them into passionate bibliophiles. For my oldest, I would say it was discovering Harry Potter in second grade. (He said his earliest memory is my “yelling at him to put down The Boxcar Children books and go to sleep.”) For my middle child, his love came a little later, when his fifth grade teacher introduced him to The Poppy Stories by Avi.
This week, my daughter, just a few days shy of her sixth birthday, fell in love and fell hard.
We read each night at bedtime and had picked up a library book by an author my friend, Jennifer, had recommended. A chapter book without pictures, it was a little out of the ordinary for us, but Mia had listened to others before, and I just encouraged her to use her imagination to fill in the blanks where the illustrations might have been, sometimes closing her eyes to do so, and pretty soon she’s asleep. I noticed something unusual with this book: The Magic Half by Annie Barrows. Typically Mia asks for another book or chapter, mainly as a stall tactic to keep me in the room. But this time, her hand clutched my arm and a desperate look passed over her face as I started to close the book. “No, Mom,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Please read another chapter.” I offered to let her read it on her own or told her that we’d read in the morning over breakfast, but she wouldn’t be consoled. I would offer to read one more page, which nearly always led us to finish another chapter because how do you stop, really, in the middle of one?
When the two girls in the story, Miri and Molly, were in danger of being caught by Molly’s evil cousin, Horst, my daughter would bury her head against my shoulder and squeal. She’d interrupt me periodically to ask the definition of words such as outhouse and exquisite, impatience and pathetically. And just when I worried that the time-travel plot was too complicated for her to follow, she pricked up her head with discovery and shouted, “Three sets of twins!” She got it, all right!
With about ten pages to go, Mia panicked. This was a library book that would have to be returned. She held it tightly to her lap and conspired. “What if we said we lost it?” I told her, no. “Maybe they won’t miss it if we don’t return it.” I told her other children will want to read it, too. But she wasn’t convinced. I even told her that I had checked Amazon.com and could buy one for her to keep. “But what if it’s not the exact same book?” she feared.
After we read the last line, with Molly and Miri safely back in their room, she took the book from me, clutched it to her chest and sighed. “There should be more.” I knew the feeling, when the author so completely sucks you in that you can’t bear to read the last page, knowing the gig is up and reality awaits you. So, for her birthday, I bought her a copy of The Magic Half. She unwrapped it and held it up to me and said, “Let’s read it again!”
Last summer, when gas prices skyrocketed, we were all encouraged to conserve fuel and money and enjoy ‘stay-cations’—kinda like a vacation except you never really went anywhere. And consequently, didn’t really have much fun. Because honestly, who wants to be a tourist in your own town? Isn’t the whole idea behind ‘getting away from it all’ actually getting away? Far away?
On the ride to soccer practice the other evening, my son and I started musing about other vacations-that-aren’t-really-vacations. This is what we came up with.
Hay-cations Destination: any place that has a barn, some chickens and maybe pigs or a cow or two. Possibly some goats. Pack: overalls, work boots, chewin’ tobaccy and a trucker hat. Car-tunes: Toby Keith, Rascal Flatts and Kellie Pickler
Day-cations Destination: anywhere you can escape to within a day’s drive. Pack: a cooler of food for lunch. No need for a suitcase; you’ll be home before bedtime. Car-tunes: a book on CD, abridged.
Gay-cations Destination: pricey antique stores, quaint independent booksellers, trendy bars and coffee shops in either Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, Maine or New Hampshire. Pack: anything designer and expensive, but not a lot because you’ll be shopping extensively. Car-tunes: Cher: The Farewell Concert, Girl in a Coma and Coldplay
Prey-cations Destination: Game Preserve Pack: pith helmet, khakis, OFF! and a 12-gauge. Car-tunes: The Lion Sleeps Tonight
Pray-cations Destination: Tent Revivals in the Deep South Pack: Bible—King James version, a fan courtesy of a local funeral home and snake-proof gloves. Car-tunes: Pat Boone (before he went Metal) and The Winans
Gray-cations Destination: BINGO halls, casinos, cemeteries and Miami, Florida Pack: muumuus, high-waist trousers, support hose, Depends, orthopedic shoes, Aqua Net and Fixodent. Car-tunes: Bing Crosby, Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey
Play-cations Destination: Six Flags, Disney World and Silver Dollar City Pack: sunscreen, tennis shoes, running shorts and matching brightly colored T-shirts (in case y’all get separated) Car-tunes: Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers
I often read the classics to my daughter. You know, by authors such as Dr. Seuss, P.D. Eastman, Theo. LeSieg. It's a blast to see her love the same books I did as a child: Put Me in the Zoo, Are You My Mother?, The Cat in the Hat, Yertle the Turtle.
The box the bird feeder came in advised adding bird seed and attracting birds. Somebody (a squirrel, I suppose) emptied out the feeder the other day, and this morning this little guy decided to hang out for a while. Not sure if he's scoping out something below to pounce on, or if he should look skyward and watch for something poised to carry him off.
So, today I picked up a magazine and began reading a parenting article. Get your kids to help with chores, the writer encouraged. Even little kids can help. Before long, you won't have to do anything but sit around and watch reality TV while the kids clean, cook and wait on you hand-and-foot.
Brilliant! Who comes up with this stuff? Ummm...me. I wrote the article but I've yet to figure out how to adopt my own great advice. I'm working on it. Right now, number one son has number two son and only daughter at the dollar theater. And I'm writing like a woman possessed, trying to meet deadlines before they return. Oh, and I've saved a load of laundry for them to fold when they get home. See, it's working!