It's a Reading Party!

"Hey, nerds! Put down your books and come play volleyball. We need another couple!" came the good-natured jeer from across the pool. They had been harassing us for an hour and it looked like there was no escaping the invitation. "Should we try it?" my new husband asked, eyebrows raised teasingly over his sunglasses. "Here goes nothing!" I chirped, sliding my book safely under my towel and easing my way into the water. "They don't know what they're asking us to do, do they?"

15 minutes (and some earnest yet awful volleyball play) later, the tipsy pool crew wasn't sad to see us return to our chairs - and our books.

My husband and I love sports and are up for just about any adventure. On our honeymoon, we got up early, enthusiastically poured over the day's options over breakfast and happily tackled excursions, jeep tours, waterfall swims and water sports. Yet each afternoon was reserved for a "reading party," which translated into a quiet spot in a quiet pool for a few hours of uninterrupted page-turning. Yes, we had found our version of bliss.

Since the honeymoon, reading parties have taken a variety of forms: an early retreat to bed, complete with a vow to cease all conversation and television viewing; cozy nights by a fire in oversized leather chairs, accompanied by a snoring dog; a two and a half hour read-aloud on the road to Thanksgiving dinner at my grandma's (now a yearly tradition); pretty summer evenings in rockers under the glow of the front door light, sweetened by contented swigs of cold beer; a stolen hour on patio chairs out back while a three-week old mercifully slept (we snuck covert glances at the monitor, willing those little green lights to remain still). My husband even managed to balance a book on a raft in the ocean - feet planted in the sand, arms out for tanning, book safely dry and accessible. (My family thought it was hilarious - I found it ingenious).

We have a bit of a book habit. We are helpless against the gravitational pull of Barnes and Noble and Border's entrances. (Even those pesky Walgreen's aisles are grabbers!). Amazon boxes magically appear at our door. Gift cards top our holiday wish list. (I do a little internal jig of joy when a thank you for college recommendation letters includes a bookstore gift card). As English teachers, this obsession may be a natural consequence of the job, but I think it's more than that. Books are part of who we are, of how we see ourselves and the world around us. Reading, for us, is a way to escape and connect. It's as vital to my feeling of completeness as a run, a hand squeeze from my husband, a nuzzle of my daughter's neck or a long talk with my mom.

I've created an infant version of reading parties. We have them each morning, after my daughter's bottle and Mom's situps (she lays on the floor beside me, stretching her legs while staring mesmerized at her friend, the fan). She's reached the age where she can sit comfortably on my lap and reach for the pages. (Her little back is so sturdy and eager and warm. Seeing it, I can't help but bend down to place smacking kisses on her chubby cheeks. Where did this big girl come from?). We have them at the library, surrounded by bright-eyed toddlers and tired-eyed moms at story hour. We have them at the kitchen counter while Dad takes his turn at the stove. We have them before bed, murmuring the last words as a drooping baby head drifts off for the night. I'm hoping that she will someday love her books as we do. Perhaps Mom will be invited to share in her reading parties?

Yesterday I nearly skipped out of the car when I pulled up to discover an Amazon label peeking out of my mailbox. (Bless you, UPS delivery woman!). "Mommy's book came today!" I cheered, plucking playfully at my daughter's carseat's straps. "Guess what I'm going to do when you go to bed tonight?" She beamed at me, drooling and bubbling. She knows a happy mom when she sees one.

And what made this mom so happy? My students would be shocked to learn that - gasp! - I do not read Shakespeare or Faulkner or Fitzgerald or even the Bronte sisters for fun.

I read Nora Roberts.

Her fourth and final installment in her Brides Quartet series has arrived and I plan on fully enjoying each mindless page.

In the morning, I have a date with Old MacDonald, Mary and her little lamb and Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Tonight, this reading party is for a very happy party of one.