My Daughter's Books

The bedroom project is actually advancing - we have paint! The ceiling and walls are done and it looks great! The current snag is the trim. Apparently the metallic silver paint (that seemed like a really cool idea when my daughter was thirteen) is some sort of mutant paint that is not compatible with the paint my husband has selected for the trim and it will require a haz-mat team or some other special treatment before it can be painted over.

Dismantling my daughter's room for this paint job has been interesting. So many fond memories of her childhood, adolescent and teen years have come rushing at me every time I've gone in her room (to check the progress of the painting).

She was three years old when we moved into this house - a very precocious three! She had to have a "princess bed" (a canopy), space for all of her stuffed animals and dolls - all with their unique names and personalities (Santa-baby still has a place in her room and in our hearts), and she had to have a shelf for her books. We found a large, very sturdy, wooden bookcase at a garage sale, hauled it home, and painted it Kelly Green to go with the primary color decor of her childhood room. That case has undergone more transformations than Joan Rivers, including one yesterday. It is freshly painted to match the, hopefully soon to be applied, trim color.

My daughter has been a bibliophile since, since when - probably birth. As an infant she was colicky. I soon discovered if I read aloud to her from whatever I was reading at the time she would stop crying and listen. Fortunately, her taste in authors was not influenced by my reading material which was probably Danielle Steel or Stephen King at that time.

When we moved into this house she already had an extensive collection of books: Pat the Bunny, Farmer Grover, Goodnight Moon, Chicken Soup with Rice, and every Golden Book in print come to mind. Books from a children's book club soon began arriving every month. Classics such as Caps for Sale, Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel, and The Snowy Day. We also made weekly excursions to the downtown public library for Miss Jane Stuart's children's programs, after which we loaded our "library book bag" with as many books as it would hold - and it was a big bag.

Many an afternoon I ignored housework (my excuses go way back) and read aloud to my daughter for hours. She always wanted "just one more." When I had to stop to fix dinner or to start a load of laundry she would read to me. At first just pretending to read, but soon actually reading.

Our bedtime ritual took hours. Once she was in bed (her princess bed), my husband and I took turns reading her bedtime stories. We each read her two books every night. This was okay when the books were short, but she quickly moved to longer books and the bedtime reading went on forever. We soon moved on to chapter books and limited ourselves to one chapter a night (unless I was too engrossed and would make an exception - which happened more often than not). Water-Babies, The Secret Garden, Anne of Green Gables - all seven in the series, The Chronicles of Narnia - all seven in the series - all read aloud - spanned her childhood. The greatest compliment I have received in my life came from my daughter just a few years ago when she told me that when she reads it is my voice she hears.

The books on her shelf changed and she preferred reading to herself. Many nights I had to make her put away a book and turn off the light. She devoured the entire Nancy Drew series. She won her school's Accelerated Reading Program every year. And the books just kept coming. Birthdays, Christmas, vacation trips - there were always books she had to have. She filled that original book case and we made room for another.

All of this recollecting brings me to the current room painting project. The books, the books that have replaced Nancy Drew and Anne Shirley. The books purchased at college and in Spain and in New York and in Mexico. The books given to her by professors and friends. The books we have purchased together at estate sales and auctions and book stores all over the country. The books she cherishes are in residence in her childhood room because her New York apartment is too small to house them. So, we have carefully moved them out so my husband can paint the room and I will carefully move them back when he is finished. I will store them until the day she has a proper home for them. It is the least I can do for a child who hears my voice in her books.