Being a Bookworm, Raising Bookworms

There is never enough time to read.

Right?!

Right.

Chris married a bookworm. I told him long ago that my dream is to be an old lady living in a home in which all the walls are lined with bookshelves stuffed with books. I think he thought I was kidding, but I wasn't.

I have books lying all over the house and I consider them my little "reading stations." One should never be far from a reading station.

On a table in the den, I have a stack of books. Currently I'm reading "You Can Understand the Bible" by Peter Kreeft at about two chapters per month, keeping just ahead of the children's history curriculum. I am reading two chapter books to the children right now. The more "boy" book is "The Cat of Bubastes" (which Mary doesn't care for, but John and I are finding a fascinating historic fiction) and the more "girl" book is "Anne of Green Gables" (but John loves them both).

As I've been working hard this fall to learn how to teach first grade and preschool while juggling a toddler and a baby, I've let fall by the wayside the Bible stories, virtue stories, and catechism. Yet those are the most important subjects. So, ever picking up and dusting myself off, this week I moved those books to a special spot in the den, with a new plan to do that reading there after breakfast, before we go to the school room for academic subjects. So far, the children are loving it. When I asked them after our first reading session of the Bible, Baltimore catechism, and saint-of-the-day what they thought of the new-set-up, all three children leapt up shrieking, "We love it! We love it!" Better than I'd expected.

Right now, I have our children's saint books and other edifying reading in the kitchen. I like to read to the children at meals sometimes, both to make good use of our time and to give myself a break from sometimes nonsense conversation.

I also keep in the kitchen missals, a Bible, and holy reading for adults. When I'm in a good habit of doing some holy reading daily, I read "Divine Intimacy," which has a reading for each day of the year, attuned to the old liturgical calendar.

Personally, I don't like to put books on the shelves until I have read them to completion. It's a weird internal rule I have. So I have a cabinet above the bar where alcohol should be kept, but I keep my addiction there: books. That is where I store books in various stages of being read or not yet started, so I "can't" file them on the shelves. (And you know all our bookshelves are organized by subject matter, right? That's probably worthy of its own blog post some day.)

Up in the master bedroom, I have created a little "mother's corner" with a small bookshelf next to my glider. I have there my perennial favorite holy books (e.g., "Introduction to the Devout Life" by St. Francis de Sales, "The Imitation of Christ" by Thomas a Kempis) and prayer books. If I am a wise mother (which often I am not), I get the children down for Quiet Time after lunch, take a deep breath, and sit in my chair for a few minutes reading something worthwhile.

By my bedside, I have other current reads. I truly don't know how someone would unwind before bed without reading. Even if I'm utterly exhausted, I have to read a half page of something as my "signal" that it's time to fall asleep. Right now, I'm reading "The Second Vatican Council: An Unwritten Story" (read all the archived private documents of the participants to learn their true intents!), "Boys Adrift" (the second I've read by Dr. Sax--worthwhile for mothers of sons), "Christ the King, Lord of History" (which is so interesting!), and "Lying-In: A History of Childbirth in America" (which any birth junkie would enjoy).

And then there are "current reads" by the bedside which have gotten "bumped" by more urgent "current reads," so I move them to a book basket hidden in my bedside table. Because, you know, they "can't" be shelved yet until I've finished them.

I think I am successfully raising bookworm children as well. All the signs point in the right direction! While Daddy was gone on business all week and we were sick, I had the children sleep like a "slumber party" in the master bedroom each night. (If I have to keep getting up to tend to sick kids, might as well create an infirmary to make my duties easier.) I'd tuck them in and go on my merry way to clean the kitchen, listening to them over the baby monitor reading by flashlight from the large pile of books they'd dragged in there.

Today I served tea and cookies. We were quietly sipping when John said seriously, "Mama, you've forgotten something." I sincerely asked him what it was, as I saw the tea, honey, milk, and cookies.

"A story, Mama."

Ah yes, one always needs a good story.