Tag Archives: Books

On the night you were born…

19 Jul

Have you heard of this book?

Every child should have it.

Every child.

I got a copy for the Turtle for his birthday, and it brings a tear to my eye every time I read it. It brings a tear to the hubby’s eye when he hears me read it (but don’t tell him I told you).

Love it. Love it. Love it.

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My new friend, Stephanie Plum

1 Oct

I may have mentioned before (once or twice or a million times) that I love reading. Love, love, love it. I’ll read anything. Anything at all. But for some reason I gave Janet Evanovich and the Stephanie Plum novels a wide berth. Literary snobbery? Unlikely. I just bought a Murder She Wrote last week. Anyway, seeing as the little turtle has given up on breastfeeding all of a sudden, I am spending a lot of time in the bath. Reading. Stephanie Plum. And I love her. I’ve read the first two just this past week.

She is well written, funny, down to earth and to some extent I’m able to identify  with her. Wouldn’t we all love to be bounty hunters? Deep down, in our heart of hearts? I know I would! And so, I’m going to read the entire series. I have plenty to be getting on with. And I’m madly excited! Just need to wrangle in a trip to the bookstore as I don’t have any more to hand at the moment.

It’s funny how the smallest things – like reading a book, or finding a character that you like can make the world seem like a much better place. Even if I am sitting here in my pajamas, trying to muster up the energy to clear up the gazillion Cheerios on the floor (from the picnic the little turtle “fixed” for himself this morning) and do the laundry and all of the other things that need doing. I can look forward to escaping into Stephanie Plum’s world over the weekend. It’ll break up the monotony of picking up breakfast cereals off of the floor. (Note to self, buy some of those plastic container things for cereal!)

Losing yourself

12 Aug

Once upon a time there was a girl who was always reading. Breakfast time – reading. Lunch – reading. Dinner – reading. On the bus/train – reading. During breaks at work – reading. Days off – entire days of reading, reading, reading. Sometimes, she even read on the toilet, but only if she was at a good bit (reading in the loo is a bit yuck!) She would read five or six books a week in this way – every spare moment was devoted to reading, especially if it were a particularly good book. Why? Because you can lose yourself in a good book. You can quite easily see life through someone else’s eyes. The whole world can look different through the lens of the printed word.

I was that girl. And last night I finished the first book I’ve read that wasn’t about parenting for months and months and months. The sense of accomplishment was unlike that I’ve felt with any other book. Not that it was a hard read, it was actually quite enjoyable. But I felt like jumping out of bed and doing a little dance around the bed, maybe sing a song. Not that I did. Sleeping hubby and child put paid to any chances of that happening!  I imagine if I ever get through more than four pages of Ulysses I might feel the same (says the girl with an MA in Anglo-Irish Literature!)

I miss reading. I miss the feeling of being “lost” in another world, not a better one, just a different one.

Now though, I can get lost in the sound of my son’s laughter, the beauty of his smile, the steely glint of determination in his eyes and the joy in his face when he manages to take a few steps without falling down. I can lose myself in the minutiae of life, as seen through his eyes.Tiernan's smile

I’ll still try to read a novel or two when I get the chance though. And dream of the day when I can read a book form cover to cover again.

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