The boys have inherited some of MY old books that somehow survived my childhood in remarkably good condition: Disney stories, Dr. Seuss, The Little House. They also have many books we received as gifts or purchased for them: Is Your Mama a Llama?, Guess How Much I Love You, The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh, etc. And of course Oliver has acquired a LOT of space-related books over the past couple years! But the most special book to me, the one that will always remind me of my three sons’ baby years, is not a traditional children’s book at all.

It was really by coincidence that Out of Africa became the book of their babyhoods: When Oliver was a newborn, it was often just us two in an otherwise quiet house (George was working full time AND going to law school), so I filled feeding times and pre-nap/bed times with books I was reading for my own enjoyment. As it happened, I had just purchased this particular book at the end of my pregnancy, after hearing it mentioned in an episode of “Gilmore Girls.” Thus my baby was introduced to the sound of human language in the natural, gentle rhythm of Dinisen’s tales from another continent. And as different as the settings and times were, her stories struck a chord with a new kind of awareness and aliveness I was feeling, and they became part of my own journey as a new mother.

Three years later, I read it to Andrew; another three years, and now I’m reading it to Matthew.

It only took me two weeks to read it to Oliver because he had all my time and attention to himself. When Andrew was a baby, he listened to me reading other books to Oliver as well (and life with two was just busier in general!), so it took over nine months. And poor Matthew… heh. At the rate we’re going, with his first birthday just 7 weeks from today (!!!), I’ll be lucky if I finish before his SECOND birthday. He’s our last child, though, so I don’t mind taking longer this time.

I’ve read quite a few other “grown-up” books to my boys as babies, but this will always be the one that holds the sweetest memories, and the one that connects them in my heart. Maybe it has something to do with the themes of struggle and strength, the mixture of hardship and humor, the majesty of life in things both big and small.

I guess that’s sort-of what motherhood is like for me.