atomic mama

A few weeks ago, while I was scouring the racks at Value Village, my mom (AKA Omie) was entertaining Lina so I could try on other people’s cast-offs. During this time of entertainment, books were found and books were read. By the time we were ready to pay for our finds, a “Junie B. Jones” chapter book had found its way into my cart. Lina dug it and it was 25 cents, so I bought it. I thought it was cool that she was interested in a book that didn’t really have pictures in it. (The JBJ books are for early readers… maybe first grade or something. I’m not sure.)

Naturally, Lina wanted me to read this book (the topic of which was “monsters under the bed” or something like that) during every free moment after that. She’d sit perfectly still and listen. I was amazed that she didn’t miss the pictures, didn’t need to look at the book. All she’s known are picture books. However, when I settle her in to tell her a long (cheesy, ad-lib) story, she is usually rapt.

Anyway. The book.

While I was psyched that I was reading my 3-year-old her first chapter book and she was loving it, I was simultaneously horrified by the book’s grammar. I’d correct things as I read them, which was awkward at times. It also felt a little dishonest. But I just could not read those words as written. I couldn’t. Apologies to any of you who like that incredibly popular series, but… damn. I just can’t see that kind of thing being good for kids. I guess I’m old.

So I picked up some E.B. White. We’re about halfway through Charlotte’s Web now, and Lina and I are both totally into it. Stuart Little is waiting in the wings, and I can’t wait to read her my favorite one, The Trumpet of the Swan. Holy crap. I read that book so many times. Maybe that’s why I have a special love for Montana to this day.

White’s words flow more naturally from my tongue, and it’s truly amazing to read Charlotte’s Web as an adult. I see Wilbur’s struggles, his fears, in a totally different light. Tonight as I was reading to her before bed it occurred to me that Charlotte is a Buddhist. (With the exception of her bloodthirsty tendencies). She encourages Wilbur to be present. To be aware. To dwell in neither the past nor the future. To know that everything will be okay.

As I ended the chapter, I took Charlotte’s advice. Burying my face in my daughter’s hair, all I could feel was gratitude for the fact that I get to be that kid’s mama. For my complex, challenging, brilliant and beautiful child. For the time I’m able to spend with her. And for the beautiful parts of my childhood that I’m able to touch again when I’m with her.

Amazing, this parenting thing. It just keeps getting better.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 at 20:49 and is filed under stephanie. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.