Bookworm Wednesday

"There is nothing enlightened abut shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you…as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
~Marianne Williamson “A Return to Love”

Wow. I always knew I needed to model self esteem to my daughters. How else can they become confident women without first seeing it reflected by the Queen Bee in their childhood home? But, I never considered my confidence could be contagious, spreading to other women.

Today, feel good about yourself, my bloggy friends, and know that you are doing a good deed. A good deed for yourself, your children and other women. Pass the flame, ladies. And, Blogosphere, hear us roar!

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Bookworm Wednesday

“You can tell which girls lack mothers by the look of their hair…”
~The Secret Life of Bees

I gasped as I read this quote from The Secret Life of Bees, a novel about a motherless girl. I was horrified at the tremendous absence that would fill a motherless girl’s life. So many motherly details just gone. The thought sent me running to my daughters, interrupting their usual afternoon Play Doh tea party for a hug and kiss session.

And then I went to work. One at a time, I pinned my daughters down and began my obsessive grooming. French twists, braids, ponytails, buns, and fancy knots. Our mornings became filled with Goody clips, barrettes, stretched out hair bands, bobby pins, head bands, glittery, no slippy hair clippies…..My one year old is off the hook with a couple brush strokes and one simple clip....for now. Not so with the three year old.

“Ouch!”

“Quit pulling!”

“You’re hurting me!”

I growl under my breath and make a mental note to remind myself to assign my daughters the task of reading The Secret Life of Bees when they are teenagers. In the meantime, Mommy Hair Nazi cackles each morning over a bottle of detangler and a drawer full of hair doo-dads. Or is hair thingy the proper term?.

Bookworm Wednesday

“Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die.”
~The Secret Life of Bees

I feel very buzzy today. I’ve buzzed along from blog to blog paying each of my SITStas a visit. I’ve always considered these visits light, fun, breezy trips around the blogosphere. A laugh here, a chuckle there, a weepy eye or two, advice gathered, giveaways entered…Fun, fun. However, perhaps there’s more to these visits than I thought? Modern living can be isolating especially for the stay at home mom with young children. Most past civilizations were far less isolating, a grandma or auntie just a cave or mud hut away. Are we lady bloggers responding to a deep, instinctual need to congregate in numbers? Is there a need to buzz around the bloggy bee hive in search of a little female company? BZZZZ!

“You have to find a mother inside yourself. We all do. Even if we already have a mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside.”
~ The Secret Life of Bees

Great advice. Most women need to learn to mother themselves. So, go out there and be good to yourself, my fellow bees! And, then, go ahead, spread the bloggy love to your sisters….comment here, follow there, and click on an ad or two on your way out!

Bookworm Wednesday

That Thing I Have with the Library.....

I grew up with books littered all over my bedroom floor, propped in front of teddy bears and stacked in piles by the bed. But, I had a small fear of the library. Yes, of course, I always had the urge to dive in knee deep, wildly exploring Winnie’s Hundred Acre Woods and grasping at Laura Ingalls’ pigtails. But, the rigidity of the library frightened me. The stacks of books were so orderly and controlled. Was this a book prison, with fines and strict rules about visitation? To add fuel to the fire, my teachers chimed in about Dewey and his complicated decimal system. I was simply spooked by the librarian's Head Mistress appeal and snarling threats of mounting late fees. Of course, on Sundays, I still paid those imprisoned books a visit, supervised visits naturally. But, I was fearful to venture there alone.

Then I fell in love with bookstores. Dewey was delightfully absent from their bookshelves. Books were stacked in inviting pyramids showing off their shiny new jackets. Cozy couches nestled in quiet corners by even cozier fireplaces. The salespeople lacked fangs and met you with a smile rather than a hiss. Music played. Food was served. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

Unfortunately, in time, simple economics made me re-evaluate that little thing I had with the library. Afterall, $15.98 is a stiff price for a quick read and the re-sale price is dismal.

I entered the library with my double stroller, head held high and decided I would put that ruler wielding, bun wearing, hissing book warden to work for me. And , it worked. Eager to get my whiney children out of the adult section of the library, she put that hustle in her bookish bustle. She even suggested that next time I hop on my home computer, and place my desired book on hold. She pointed to the “On Hold” bookshelves that lined the library lobby and gave a head nod to the self check out computer. The picture began to form….a non-librarian library visit? Just me, a computer, and all the free books I wanted (provided I return them on time?) Gulp. Oh, I have found heaven.

These days, I dart into the library to pick up my requested book and then let my little ladies run wild in the children’s section. Sometimes we even catch storytime. Yes, I have been guilty of incurring some overdue fines. (pennies) But, now I open my pocketbook, and nod at my gaggle of gals. “I haven’t known the day of the week since I gave birth 3 years ago.” This is usually met with a smile, sometimes a suppressed giggle and an occasional snort of disgust, but I can leave with my dignity intact. Heck, I am even a bit smug knowing that I managed to read Tolstoy while juggling two monkeys. Look at me. I am a regular book circus!

Bookworm Wednesdays

I’ve always been a wormy one, making my way through the pages of a good read. I once won a bookworm bookmark contest receiving first prize for the most witty bookmark caption. “Watch out for those cookbooks! They’re killers! Hick!” I was only 8, but yet still related to bookwormly humor.

To pay homage to my bookworm roots, I have decided to name ( most) Wednesdays as Bookworm Wednesday. On such Wednesdays, I will focus on some sort of bookish topic…book review (with a twist naturally), character analysis (with a curve thrown in), book gadgets, or some sort of library related topic. (I have lots to say about the library.)

Today, I will introduce you to my inner bookworm. She wormed her way into my heart as a small child and took up permanent residence. I admit, she was a deep in the closet bookworm in high school, took a paid vacation in college and became a late night type in my twenties. Today, encouraged by my devil may care…I- am- nose- to- nose -with -40- anyway attitude, she is in full swing. Finally, feeling appreciated, she has gained confidence and esteem. She has toyed with the idea of changing her name to Book Caterpillar, thinking that “worm” had a negative, wormy ring. She has extended her social network, hanging out in the sections of the bookstore she never dreamed of and she is thrilled to be the star of this blog entry. She hopes to inspire others to join the bookwormly revolution and she prays I won’t make too much fun of her eccentric nature.

Here’s to you, Book Caterpillar, my wormy, little friend.

Disco Pumpkin

Charlie Pumpkin was a good pumpkin. Round and smiley, he sat alone on page three in The Little Halloween book. He faithfully entertained my oldest daughter for the past three years, enduring flips and flaps, endless page turns and violations from a pink crayon. Never did his disposition take a turn for the worse. He sat in his spooky scene cackling gleefully despite his frozen circumstances. He waited patiently during his 5 month little banishment under the couch. He had no grievances over the rip through his middle. Nor did he complain over the apple juice fiasco. He lovingly grinned as sticky fingers smudged his ink. He lived a lonely existence between the crumpled pages, always surrendering to a toddler’s love.

Today, Charlie gets a facelift. We glued and taped and, in the end, we stapled. Between the orange Crayola and iridescent glitter, we managed to somewhat regain Charlie’s original complexion. And when we were done, my three year old stuck a sparkly ghost sticker, hovering just overhead in the starry sky, a ghostly disco of a scene.

“A friend,” she sighed.

A good deed done!

Book ADD

I admit it. I am a book hopper, always starting and stopping some poor and unfortunate novel; always on the look out for that one book that will sweep me away. I blame it on my Book ADD (are there drugs for this?) that was triggered by my maternal hormones. In my premarital life, I spent long stretches of time lingering over a gut wrenching book…. Ah… an evening well spent. ( got married late, remember?) Now, if a book is to be read, it must be devoured in 90 second intervals….bit by bit….during those heavenly pockets of peace between baby screams and three year old whines; between poopy diapers and poopy pants; baby scrapes and bandaged knees.

The book must be fast paced and quickly engaging. It must take me away to an exotic locale, with heroes and eccentrics dancing around an intricate plot. I ‘d like to be challenged, the boundaries of my reality pushed with far reaching story lines, my attention captured with its spiral twists and hairpin curves, and satisfied by a heart warming ending. I am looking for a book full of charm and wit; a book that holds a mirror to your soul; a book that will suck you into another cultural context, time and place, toying with universal themes of love, passion and betrayal.

A tall order, yes?

On this typical morning, I was book hunting in Costco, scanning the stacks of books, both girls quiet and sticky faced from their cookie eating. I had no more than a handful of moments to make my selection before the cookies were devoured and the threat of whines loomed. My heart ached at the selections. Love in the Time of Cholera….Suite Francaise,…..The Glass House……Peony in Love…so many choices. I settled on The Secret Life of Bees, an older book that had been giving me the eye for years.

“It’s about time we met,” I said flopping the book into the shopping cart.

Maybe it will be a book that can be read 90 seconds at a time during those exquisite pockets of peace….