Joys of Motherhood

I can remember when I found out I was pregnant (the "baby" is now 9), one of the first things I imagined was reading to and with my child. I was going to share with her all of the books I enjoyed, and discover new books with her. Well, that was one of many things I imagined, along with getting my pre-baby body back, having picture-perfect family dinners...I'm sure if you have children, you understand the kind of ting I'm talking about. Most of it, of course, did not come to pass. The part about the books, however...

When she was a newborn, crying for food at all those middle-of-the night hours, I would read to her from whatever book I was reading at the time. The first was "Pride and Prejudice"--I go through all of Jane Austen's novels about every couple of years. Unlike the adults I know who enjoy discussing books, Joanna never interrupted when I would wax eloquent about a passage I'd just read to her. (Unless you count the occasional burp.) She was the same with books of archaeology, scandalous bodice rippers (there were some parts of these I did NOT read out loud!). And, lest you think that it was all her mother's taste in reading, I must say she got nearly as much from her father, who would read the sports pages to her in the wee hours, and talk to her about statistics and draft picks. In fact, one of the first things she learned, at the tender age of about four months, was to put her hands high over her head when someone yelled "Touchdown!"

I was thinking of all this the other night as we sat reading the last book she needs to finish by the end of the school year. We've been reading "Half Magic" by Edward Eager, and I'm glad she loves the story as much as I do. Do you remember when you were young enough to still believe that magic was possible? And how important it was that at least one adult in your world believed it, too? One of the things that really makes the story something other than a fairy tale, though, is that the charm always does everything by halves. The children in the story have to learn how to frame their wishes carefully to get exactly what they want. At the beginning of the book, before they've figured that out, one of them wishes that their cat could talk. It's a rather grumpy cat, and it gets even grumpier trying to make itself understood when it can't quite speak people-talk, nor yet meow properly. Joanna and I had a good laugh over the cat!

We then went on to have a very serious conversation about whether our cats might actually talk when there was no one around to hear them. Rather like Shrodinger's cat, I can't say yes or no--to answer the question would be to negate the condition of it. But we both agree that it is at least a possibility. Personally, I think they even answer the phone when we're not home, and tell the telemarketers that they're free to call whenever they want.

I retyped that last line 3 times, because the youngest cat Midnite used the keyboard as a shortcut to the window where she growled ferociously at one of our resident woodchucks. There is a whole family of them, and they are decimating Joanna's garden. We have live traps all over the yard, but all we've caught so far are birds, squirrels, and the dog's head. (She's too big to get her whole body in the trap.)

Tonight, however, I'm free to read on my own as Joanna is off a-visiting. I'm going through essays on Jane Austen's novel Persuasions, and then back to my review book. Yay weekends!