Mommy, Will You Read to Me?

We always have something that needs to be done. As mothers, we never truly have a "spare" moment. However, many of us have quite a bit of flexibility in how we spend our time. While we can't spend every minute actively engaging our children, I have looked up to the moms that seem to have found the balance between parenting and housekeeping. One of my dear friends has as frame quote her in kitchen which I can never remember word for word, but the essence is that there will always be cooking and cleaning but moments with our children are few and fleeting. In an effort to help myself claim those precious moment with my children, I have made a rule for myself: "When a child asks me to read to her (or my son brings me a book), I will read it."

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule; sometimes I do legitimately have to say "no," but my self-imposed directive makes me think twice before making an excuse. When the children recognize that I am busy, they usually do not ask me to read. With the exception Simeon, they can tell that I'm in the middle of preparing a meal or hanging up laundry, activities not conducive to reading a story, although I have been known to tell a story when I'm unable to read one. However, when I'm sitting down, in my children's eyes, I'm fair game. Most of the time they are right. I can be interrupted while reading my Bible or another book, writing an e-mail or blog post, even folding laundry. At the moment, I can't think of anything else, other than eating or reading to another child, that I do while sitting down. If I am about ready to get up and start supper, no one will notice supper being ready five or ten minutes later because I've read a chapter of "The Long Winter" to Meriel. The amount of laundry that can be folded in the time it takes to read a picture book to Hollis will be unnoticeable by the next afternoon.

I have always loved books. When I was just a toddler, my mother decided to see how long I would be entertained by her reading books to me. I spent the entire morning picking a book off the shelf, listening to it, and returning to the shelf to pick another. It was my mother who had to call it quits so she could fix lunch. I learned to read early on, so that I wouldn't have to wait for Mom to be available to read to me. When I had children, I wondered if any of them would share my joy of reading. It turns out to be a resounding yes! My seven year old daughter zips through books almost as fast as I can find appropriate reading material for her. Both my five year old and three year old will bring me books for as long as I will read to them. Meriel even enjoys certain "chapter books," notably the Laura Ingalls Wilder series. Little Simeon will not sit through stories the way Eris did at his age, but he will point at pictures and listens carefully as I enunciate the words.

I believe all my children have the makings of future bookworms. What better gift can I give to them, and to myself, than the love of reading? I imagine in the future being able to share loftier volumes and debating the meaning of a particular article together. For now, I am content to treasure the moments sharing "The Long Winter," "The Phantom Tollbooth," and "Three Bears in a Boat." So when one of my children asks, I answer with a smile, "Of course I will read to you!"