Obsessive

I love when books swallow me whole.

The problem is, I don't get anything done until the story frees me with its conclusion.

Last week, Tim and I stumbled upon a quaint bookstore, complete with a couple of quirky clerks.  They had some amazing recommendations and we took them up on a couple good ones.  When we got our treasures home, I was hesitant to start mine.  If the author does the job right, I'm hooked several pages in.  Once that happens, the hounds, I mean, my boys are released.  Released from all duties to get dressed, clean up their toys and wait patiently for healthy, home-cooked meals.  When I'm reading a good book, the house becomes a pigsty and we eat cereal for dinner.

I absolutely cannot wait until the boys start reading chapter books and catch the obsessive bug.  Then all four of us can curl up on a dreary weekend, only moving from the couch to pour the milk into our bowls.  Then, I might feel less guilty for neglecting them. 

I remember summer days, before any adult responsibilities of chores or jobs took hold, when I read the whole Anne of... series in record time.  My buttprint may still be in that recliner.  I read the whole Harry Potter series when Jack was a newborn.  After Tim went to bed, I would pull my booklight out and read until waaaay too late.  Even when I knew I needed to get more sleep because Jack was nursing a couple times a night and Luke was waking up for the day at 5am, I couldn't stop turning the pages. People thought I looked tired because I had 2 under 2, but no, I was just up reading too late.  Scratch that, it may have been a combination.  Maybe.

I take pride in the fact that my obsession rubbed off on Tim.  Growing up, he was a good student and did the required reading plus a little more.  The first summer after we were married, we couldn't get our hands on enough reading material.  It was glorious.

So, this is a very long way to tell you that I'm done with my book, Tim's hasn't passed his over to me yet, so I'm in need of a few titles to put on my hold list at the library.  Just beware though, once I pick them up, don't come over to my house expecting food to be offered or a clean floor to walk on.

Pedicure Indulgence

My very first pedicure was at the ripe old age of 24. It was a gift from my principle at the baby shower our staff threw for my very pregnant friend and me. I was so grateful for all the thoughtful baby gifts. Compared to my other showers I got a lot more books, toys and "educational" gifts for Luke (and eventually Jack). Who knew a bunch of educators would think to get my baby books!

My principle got blocks for Luke and a pedicure for me! I made sure I used up the gift certificate before Luke made his entrance into the world. Even though the rest of me was swollen and disheveled in the delivery room, my toes where shiny beauties.

Since that pedicure many of my "breaks" from mommyhood have been to the nail salon. Even though it's the dead of winter and everyday I layer my feet with wool socks and lamb fleece lined UGGs, yesterday I went to get a pedicure. It was forty minutes of perfection that resulted in pearly magenta toes.


A note to all you baby shower goers: If you don't know what to get the mommy-to-be or have a little $$ left over, get her a gift certificate to the nail salon.