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Love Your Library!

Along with a few other celebrations, the month of February is proud host to Love Your Library month. Whether you're a parent with young children, a career-minded individual, a grandparent, or anyone in between, there are ample reasons to love your library!

True, libraries are no longer the only place to find abundant information. In a world of internet surfing and online books and magazines, one would think that libraries have lost a bit of their importance. Not so!

My husband remembers the library as the place he was forced to go when writing an arduous grade school paper or report. This was in the days before the internet, when people knew their way around card catalogs and librarians' fingers were perpetually smudged with ink from stamping the cards they unsheathed from the book pockets housed neatly under the front cover of each and every book. No bar codes, no scanners. Just those lovely, lovely cards, the simplicity of which I often remember fondly.

My memories of the library, however, are a bit more magical than my husband's. I loved to write, and I adored books. My dad would take us to the library on Saturdays where we not only got to throw pennies in the fountain in the main lobby area, but also got to wander the tall stacks of books, the bins of records, and the boxes of children's magazines. There was no rhyme or reason to my hunting when I was little, and yes, I did judge books by their covers and was drawn to the fanciful and artistic ones. I'd curl up in a corner and get lost in ancient kingdoms and far-off lands as my brothers searched for more mundane reading material. Guides about knot-tying and building tree houses, I would imagine.

Ah, but back to the topic at hand – libraries circa 2012. Apart from the countless books just waiting to be browsed, libraries are home to so much more. While printed books may be the mainstay of public libraries, you'll also find computers, Wi-Fi, downloadable e-books and audio books, and depending on your library, access to other online programs and subscriptions, such as World Book or Encyclopedia Britannica. Also, an increasing number of audio and music CDs and DVDs are added every year to library shelves.

Public libraries also offer us a sense of community with classes, programs, and reading hours for children. Looking for a fabulous place to partake in some free computer classes? Check out your public library's schedule of classes and events. Searching for some handy seminars, or hoping for a fun puppet show that might delight the grandkids? Yep – try the library!

In addition to stopping by and enjoying everything your local library has to offer, consider donating to your public library. Whether it's a gift of time (reading, tutoring, cleaning, nurturing plants), or money (a donation of books, magazine subscriptions, or cash), an investment in your public library is an investment in your community.

My kids have grown up browsing the bins of picture books at our public library, which makes for a fun and easy Saturday. Of course, my work has taken us to libraries far and wide, and my kids are not above requesting we drive a bit further so they can play with marionettes at one library or listen to their favorite story hour reader at another.

As I place another book on a teetering stack – this one demonstrating the finer points of decorating whimsical cupcakes for children – my kids hurry to show me their choices. My daughter has a book with accompanying CD that teaches kids to speak Russian through the use of children's songs. Along with a few comic books, my son has a flap book all about the inner workings of pirate ships. Of course, THEY have to slide their choices under the barcode scanner to check them out, because that's half the fun, you see. A fleeting memory of cards and stamps flits through my nostalgic mind as I let them divide my books and scan them.

Indulge your curiosity and try your hand at a new adventure. Visit your local library and become reacquainted with those lovely, lovely books!

A Visit from the Tooth Fairy

We lead fairly hectic lives in our household, and seem to always be on the go. That doesn’t, however, stop us from taking time to celebrate the small milestones. And especially while the kids are young and still believe in magical things, I do my best to play up those special moments for them. After all, far too soon they won't believe in magical things like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.

 My daughter is funny about losing teeth. While we've never come at her with pliers to extract her wiggly pearly whites, she won't let my husband or me anywhere near her mouth. Rather, this job is for Grandma. Or, in this case, a ham sandwich.

Now, this isn't her first lost tooth. In fact, it marks number five. This time around, it was the lower right lateral incisor. (Yes, I had to look that up.) It's been wobbly for a good number of weeks now, and if Grandma isn't around to test its pulling readiness, she resorts to soft foods or trying to skip meals altogether so as not to accidentally dislodge the teetering tooth.

But alas, her rumbling tummy must have gotten the better of her, for she came home from school yesterday to announce that one bite into her sandwich found her loose tooth embedded in her bread.

When she lost her first tooth (her lower left central incisor), my husband and I decided it would be nifty if the Tooth Fairy brought her a big bright silver dollar. She wasn't as excited about this idea, confiding in her cousin that she wished the Tooth Fairy had brought her "real money," but seemed to warm to the concept when her aunts and uncles reassured her how totally awesome and cool it was to receive a big silver dollar. I was rather relieved, since I vividly remember being let down by the Tooth Fairy myself when I was in kindergarten. She brought me a quarter, but forgot to take the tooth. My mother, while giving my father a very pointed glare, explained to me that no, it wasn't that the Tooth Fairy didn't *want* my tooth, she just had a full satchel and would be back the following night to claim it.

And so, last night, my daughter carefully brushed her little incisor and placed it in her tooth pillow. Much later, after finishing up an article on an upcoming holiday, the Tooth Fairy closed her laptop and snuck into a darkened room to make the swap. A glittery note from the tooth-snatching sprite encouraged her to keep brushing. After all, fairies love things to sparkle!

This morning she gleefully announced that yes, the Tooth Fairy had brought her another fabulous silver dollar and a note! "I have to write her a thank you note tonight!" she gushed.

I know that Santa letters go to the North Pole, and a quick wink at the post mistress in town is all that's needed when the kids deliver their holiday wish lists. Now I just have to figure out where the Tooth Fairy lives…

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times: Happy Birthday, Charles Dickens!

Yesterday marked the 200^th birthday of Charles Dickens. Whether you're the literary sort or not, it's hard to escape the impact this English novelist made on society. Dubbed as the best writer of the Victorian period, Dickens not only penned a number of great novels, but also gifted the world with such iconic and enchanting characters as Oliver Twist, Ebenezer Scrooge, Nicholas Nickleby, and a host of others. Dickens novels and stories have been so popular that they haven't gone out of print since first being published in the mid-1800s.

Like most children, my first exposure to the works of Dickens was a holiday viewing of one of several film adaptations of A Christmas Carol. Most likely it was George C. Scott I saw mumbling "Bah! Humbug!" and being plagued by unwelcome ghosts. However, if I'm honest, I'm still most partial to Michael Caine's portrayal of Scrooge, opposite Kermit the Frog's Bob Cratchit. The Muppets, teamed up with classic literature, is a winning combination in my book, but that's just my humble opinion.

While I'd already tested the waters of other Dickens novels in middle school, it wasn’t until my freshman year of high school that my class was required to tackle Great Expectations. This was met with moans and groans and negative attitudes that would make Ebenezer himself proud – before his Yuletide transformation, of course. "We have to read a whole novel!" a classmate tried to commiserate with me. He didn't know I was a book nerd, I guess. I found myself thoroughly enthralled by the orphan Pip and the crazy old Miss Havisham who rambles around her dilapidated mansion still adorned in her wedding dress decades after her fellow stood her up at the altar.

In college, while pursuing a literature degree, I was required to read The Adventures of Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, and David Copperfield. "Who wants to read this old stuff?" demanded a girl in the work group to which my professor assigned me. The others of us just blinked a bit and exchanged bewildered looks. Were we not cutting edge? Were we uncool? Was it passé of me to think that books that had endured a century and a half of popularity were worth the read? Just as I began performing a self-check on my enthusiasm for literary classics, another student piped up. "You do realize it's Dickens who said, 'Tis love that makes the world go round,' right?" followed by another who offered, "Not to mention, 'Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.'" Oh, camaraderie! Finally!

Yes, nearly 150 years later, language has changed a bit since the days of Dickens. But the themes of his novels are still relevant today and surely worth a revisit. This month, celebrate Charles Dickens' contribution to history and pick up one of his novels. For those of you who identify with Scrooge's miserly habits, might I suggest a trip to the library? It's free!

Birthday Thoughts

 

While receiving a good number of birthday wishes, a few gifts, some treats, and a lunch date with a coworker I also count as a good friend, the people in my life have all reminded me that it’s MY day. Relax, they tell me. Splurge. Treat yourself. Order take-out and indulge in a long bath. Even my kids instructed me to do something fun for my birthday, and then announced that would be ice skating with them.

Good ideas, indeed!

However, amid the well wishes, cards, and cake, the thought occurred to me that perhaps the person who should enjoy a bit of rest and rejuvenation in honor of this day is the lady responsible for my very existence. The one who lovingly and dutifully carried me for nine months and then, when I decided I’d much rather stay put where it was warm and cozy, endured my procrastination until she was finally induced. My mother.

I do love May. I love the Earth springing to new life with green grass and the riot of color the flowers bring. The days are milder and the outdoors offer a host of new activities. And while this bright and beautiful month may be the perfect time of year to honor our mothers, I can’t help but to chuckle when I think to myself that my mom had no such weather the day I graced the world with my entrance.

January in Minnesota is no friend to pregnant women. It’s cold. It’s icy and slippery. We have ice storms, sleet, slush, and snow. And for expectant moms who already battle an off-kilter sense of balance, pulling on boots and wading through snow is no picnic. For a nine-month pregnant woman, retrieving the mail at the curbside becomes a risky endeavor. Of course, she may just have to shovel a path there first!

Most of my siblings had the good sense to be born in warmer, snow-free months. Months like April, May, June, July and August. But two of my brothers and I were winter babies. We weren’t born on days that saw tulips opening or butterflies flitting from flower to flower. There was no lemonade on the front porch as the sun went down or children flying kites or racing around the yard with sparklers. There was snow, slippery roads, wind chills, and chapped hands. There was shoveling and snow blowing and waking up early to see if the school-aged children had a snow day or not. For my mom, there was bundling up three boys, ages 2 to 5, in snowsuits and parkas and boots and ski masks while working around a protruding belly.

I have two children of my own. While their birthdays are definitely their own special days, each year I remember very clearly the day each was born. I recall very specific details, right down to the fabric design on the nurses' scrubs. I know the same is true for my mom. She can still rattle off the hospital room numbers she was assigned to for each of us. Yes, children's birthdays are to be celebrated and remembered. But for moms, these milestones call to mind the days (or nights) these little ones came into the world.

Each January, when my birthday rolls around, I usually contend with a healthy dose of typical Minnesota winter weather. It's a nuisance and leaves plans hanging a bit. But after becoming a mother myself, I can't help but to be reminded of the love and self-sacrifice a mother braves to bring a baby into this world. And when the wind howls and the temperatures dip into the negatives, I think of the extra struggle winter moms dutifully endure.

I think perhaps my mom is the one who deserves the cake!

Yuletide Arts & Crafts

My father, a man of mathematics, science and logic, who spent the better part of 47 years working in a laboratory testing soil samples and rocks, is not what one would call artistic. In fact, when asked about the aesthetic quality of an item, he's more likely to respond with, "Well, does it make sense and is it useful?" Therefore, it doesn't stand to reason that he would be the parent I would turn to for help with arts and crafts projects. My mother, after all, taught me to sew, knit, embroider, and artfully dollop meringue onto a perfectly baked lemon pie.

However, there are times when a man of precision is just the right person for a craft project. No, I wouldn't dream of asking him to offer advice on whether or not two plaids complement each other or if I should select cream in lieu of ecru. But he comes in awfully handy whenever power tools are in order, or if I need someone to sit down with a paper cutter and meticulously measure and trim cardstock to exact dimensions.

And so when, earlier this year, my dad and brothers cut down my mother's beloved aging birch tree in the front yard – the one she transplanted from her parents' woods – I scrambled to grab manageable-sized branches and small limbs, knowing I'd be putting my dad to work closer to Christmastime.

My plan? I would create my very own Yule log for the Christmas table.

"I need you to drill large holes in a birch branch," I informed him. "And you'll need a saw, too," I added. I explained my vision and he tested me on such things as, "Okay, how are you going to make sure this log sits level and doesn't roll? Have you considered the dripping wax? Are all taper candles of uniform circumference?" Very important questions to consider, indeed!

Before commencing, he carefully measured the spacing of the three holes, announcing they were equidistant from each other and straight as an arrow. (I wasn't worried.) Then he engaged me in a lengthy conversation about the depth of the holes, and how much of the log we should shave off each end.

I stood by him in the garage as he bored candle holes in my soon-to-be Yule log and then tidied up the ends of the log. As sawdust flew, the smell of the wooden shavings reminded me of my childhood and all the home projects he completed, his table saw whirring away as his spot-on measurements were cut and trimmed.

The log prepped and ready, the next stage was decorating. I don't know that my mom has ever used a glue gun. I got those mad skills from my dad, too. Some winter berries and greenery pieces found themselves artfully arranged on the top of the log amid white and red candles. Next, I implemented his advice about using small tacks on the bottom of the log to keep the temperamental log from rolling, flaming candles and all.

Violà! A centerpiece fit for the prettiest of Christmas tables. Happy Yuletide!

Shoe Shopping and Latte Sipping with the Lil' Sis: A Scrumptious Pairing!

Although there are thirteen and one-third years between us, as well as six siblings including another sister, my littlest sister (aka "The Baby") and I gravitate toward one another from time to time. This is probably due to the fact that, when she was little, I was always on hand to take her roller skating, shopping and to movies. Truth be told, she was in kindergarten when my future husband and I met in college, and therefore many of our first dates involved taking her to G-rated movies and other age-appropriate activities. We eventually stopped correcting people when they told us we made a beautiful family. It just wasn't worth the hassle.

But, having traded all of her baby teeth now for perfectly white and orthodontically straightened adult ones, she is in college and is no longer looking for a big sister to deposit her at a play date or supervise her at the swimming pool. Gone is the necessity to "look out for her," however, the instinct is pretty firmly imbedded in my subconscious (thanks to my mother). It's an interesting dichotomy -- she's not my daughter, however she's a half generation too young to really feel like my sister.

I lost track of when, exactly, her feet reached my size 11 in length. It was somewhere around her high school years, I imagine, because I remember slipping into a pair of her chunky, stacked Mary Janes and wondering if you had to be a teenager to pull them off, or if people at the office might find them as cute and creative-looking as I did.

For the first time in my life, I had a sister with whom I could share clothing, even if it only meant shoes. This was going to be nice! It was also around this time that I learned that she too had subverted my mom's abhorrence of all things tasting of coffee, and did indeed enjoy a good latte herself.

And so, we find ourselves standing on common ground (in our size 11s). My free hand stays toasty, wrapped around a large almond latte, as I stroll next to her amid the tables of shoes in the department store. She is enjoying a medium vanilla latte. We pick up shoes, inspecting and price checking, visualizing outfits that would be completed by a quiet yet classic pair of black strappy heels or spruced up with a coquettish pair of dark red patent pumps. We try on boots. We swap boxes. She holds my coffee as I slip on a pair of darling peacock-colored satin heels. I grumble that, although the color is sublime, alas, I have nothing they would go with. “Who cares!” she enthuses. “Sometimes you just have to buy the clothes so you can wear the shoes.”

We spend the afternoon slipping on boots, pumps, flats and fancy heels, finishing our lattes and pausing to wonder if the day is worthy of another java stop. I walk out of the final store with two sensible pairs that I know will wear well with my work wardrobe, and she walks out with a few pair that I’m secretly excited to borrow.

Life marches on and relationships change, grow, and expand. And with each passing year, I am amazed to find shared interests with some of my brothers and sisters I never could have predicted. It’s important to take advantage of these moments with siblings. These are the people with whom we share not only genes, but our history, our memories, our family traditions, and our looks. And in my case, shoe size!