Mothering gene...

My mom wrote the annual Christmas letter recently, and it got me thinking. I'm going to use her own words to establish my point.

'Ah, the ever dreaded holiday letter, filled with the musings and celebrations from the Pottinger family. I told the kids this year that I was going to write one line, "Nothing has changed, see 2009 letter." Daniel and his girlfriend of six years, Amanda, have still NOT gotten engaged or set a date, Brooke and Nick keep talking about the next step but it seems to be one step forward and two steps back. Lauren is single and a workaholic. I have no grandchildren, (though I am lucky to have 10 great nieces and nephews, and two on the way) so I spoil my dog.'

Now, I know my mom loves me and my siblings. The rest of the letter goes on to say how great things are going in all of our lives, and is really sweet and well written. This is in no way about her and her desire for grandbabies. It's about me. Which may be the problem.

I have been told for years that I would be a great mom. I get along with kids, I have fun with them and treat them like mini-adults, and they seem to like me. I remember Thanksgivings as a teenager/early twenty something spent in the front yard with my young neighbors or relatives playing, while the adults would be inside. I was the babysitter to call in our neighborhood, and I would come with a box full of books, games, and costumes so that the kids would go to bed exhausted and creatively fulfilled. I took one of the kids I babysat trick or treating one year. His costume was Darth Vader, so I dressed like Princess Leia, buns and all. I enjoy spending time with kids and helping them to become decent teenagers who will grow into fantastic adults.

All that being said, I'm just not sure it's right for me. I have the inkling that I might enjoy it, and I understand that as a woman I won't know until it's happened...at least, that's what all my married/babied friends say. But the concept is a bit overwhelming to me even in the abstract. I would be responsible for a human life? A child which cannot defend itself and can't tell me what he/she needs? I can be honest with myself and say that I am a pretty lazy/self indulgent person. If I want to stay in bed til 11, I do. If I want to go to a movie, I'll take myself. I don't know about scheduling a whole day for another person, let alone myself. I look at all the moms in my life, mine included, and I wonder how they do/did it. They have a patience I don't see in myself. A selflessness that I don't know that I have.

So, it may be a wish unfulfilled for dear old Mom. She'll have to make do with grandpuppies, and I'll be the best darned Aunt on the planet. I'll always buy the loudest toys and give them the most chocolate and soda before I drop them back off at your house. I will give them the biggest and best gifts and be the one who is there when you get in a fight with them, to tell them the exact same thing you have been trying to say, but they'll listen to me, cause I'm "Cool Aunt Lauren.".

Once upon a time.

There is a commercial currently running on television that makes my blood boil. It is not a political advertisement. It is not a spot for Rachael Ray's talk show (the existence of which makes me believe the Apocalypse is coming soon.) It's a commercial for a product for children that makes me want to throw things.

The opening sentence of this idiotic example of why our society is deteriorating at the rate it is states that, "Once upon a time there were books." It then goes on to show a mother, holding her small child in her lap, reading to her with an e-book. The child is delighting in the tale of Woody and Buzz and learning how to read. Pictures are flashing, and the kid can also watch the story be acted out by the animated characters. Yay!

I don't know that I really need to point out what is so wrong with this advertisement. First of all, giving children and adults everywhere the idea that books are a thing of the past, and putting them into the same category as fairy tales makes me want to vomit until blood comes out of my mouth. What happened to the concept of literature, of words on paper that can transport your child into a world of imagination? Of rocking your child to sleep with a dog eared copy of Wind in the Willows or Charlotte's Web? Of perpetuating a tradition of a love for the written word? What happened to a parents vested interest in teaching a child how to read by themselves without leaning on technology to do the work for them?

I am not a parent, and I have no idea what it is like to raise a child in modern day society. I know that my parents both worked, and I was reading by the time I was 4. I have fond memories of voraciously tearing into any book I could get my hands on. My grandfather gave me a hardback copy of Anne of Green Gables when I was 7. I was reading Stephen King by the age of 10. Reading is what I do, what I love, and that includes not only the words on the page but the feel of the book in my hand, the musty smell of a used book, the crack of the spine...reading is a sensual experience for me. I see the colors, the faces of the characters, the places they go and I live, love, and feel what they feel. I've never been to India, but after devouring The Namesake I feel that I have been there. I'm not a time traveler, but I can imagine what it's like when I pick up a Spider Robinson novel.

I hate to imagine a time when books will become obsolete. I have been told how convenient it is to travel with a Nook or other e-reader. "You don't have to carry 2-3 books, it's so easy!" Well, I like carrying those books. I like boarding a plane knowing that nestled in my green North Face backpack are 3-4 different tomes with different cover art that are available to me should I get bored. I like carrying ten pounds of reading materials. I like using my thumb and pinky to hold a book open, and that my hand gets tired after 2 hours straight of reading . I like having the ability to put a cute bookmark into the back of the book for insertion into my stopping part for the night. I want to read to my children, and have them read to me, and delight in a quiet afternoon in front of a fireplace or on the patio with just the silence of curious minds and imagination at work surrounding me.

Please, if you are or want to be a parent someday, keep the tradition of the book alive. Hold on to those dear moments and don't allow our society to convince you that a computer can replace your voice, your time, your teaching. Read to your kids, and read for yourself.

That's my rant for the day. Happy Thanksgiving weekend, ya'll!