another one about books.

Last night David and I went on a date! To celebrate Mother’s Day!

We had a whole hour between the time his parents came over to babysit and our dinner reservation, and the man who has been married to me for 11 years knew without asking exactly where I wanted to spend it: the library.

My definition of luxury is wandering rows and rows of books, all by myself, and David enjoys the same thing, and so after returning two bursting-full bags of children’s books, we went our separate ways deep into the vast hushed quiet of the public library at 6:00 p.m.

I feel incredibly lucky to live in Richland County and love everything about our big green-glass walled downtown library, including the impeccable taste of the librarians. And so when I’m alone my first stop is the Hot Titles shelves right by the entrance, followed by the Holds shelf where my heart never fails to leap when I see a tag (or four) with the name, Gentino, Julia, printed across the top.

And then, even though it’s my night out, I am irresistibly drawn down the escalator into the Children’s Room. Because it’s hard to say what I love more: getting to choose books all by myself, or getting to choose books for my children all by myself. I relish finding our favorite authors, running fingers along the just-returned stacks, checking for new recommendations by the Children’s Room librarians, all without little hands tugging at me and voices calling for me.

The week before Gabriel and Noah came home, I busied myself in their new bedroom, washing sheets and organizing the Thomas trains and Little People castle pulled down from the attic, and setting up their shelves of board books, a combination of hand-me-downs from their big brother and sister, and cousins.

If there’s anything better than a great children’s book, it’s one that has already been well-loved.

One of the ways I know to love my new boys best is to introduce them to the world of books.

And lately my mind races with all there is to catch up on. They’ve never read the Maisy books! Or Sandra Boynton! Or Richard Scarry! Oh my goodness, what about Elephant and Piggy?

But really, it’s a happy kind of racing. Because if you know me at all you know my favorite challenges have to do with sharing my love of books and suddenly here are two new blank slates in my house, ready and waiting.

So we start slow.

Right now books are for physical touch and bonding. For cuddling in laps with a cup of juice and quieting ourselves before bed. They’re for learning how to be gentle. They’re for slowly stretching attention spans.

We read a couple of times a day, and when little minds wander and bodies get wiggly, we stop and give kisses and send off to play. Because we have all the time in the world together, to grow to love books.

But books are also one of the ways I know to love my big kids right now.

Their world has been rocked. What was once a quiet house is now busy and loud and often messy, and what were once two parents who gave them lots of undivided attention are now tired, distracted parents trying to meet everyone’s needs and bond with noisy little brothers. There’s a lot I can’t give Judah and Amelie right this moment, but I can give them books.

I can show them what I myself have learned: that books are comfort.

So while before April 24th I spent time combing the internet for various book lists and challenging them with chapter book classics, right now I love my two oldest children by going to the library and finding all their picture book favorites: Fancy Nancy and Knuffle Bunny and Berenstein Bears. The Star Wars Lego dictionary and Clifford and Quiet! There’s a Canary in the Library. And of course Dr. Seuss (nothing makes Judah laugh like Dr. Seuss does. They are kindred spirits).

We sit, cuddled together on the sofa, at night after Gabriel and Noah are tucked in, and we read together — books we’ve read dozens of times. We laugh at the same old jokes and roll our eyes at Olivia and travel the world with Babar. And in doing so we all unknowingly breathe a sigh of relief.

I smile when I crack the door to check on them at night and see books peeking out of Amie’s covers, or spilled over on the floor after afternoon rest time.

Books are comfort.

One day Gabriel and Noah will feel it too.

That thought makes me inexpressibly happy.