It’s funny how, now that I’m a mom, everyone else’s parenting moments I have ever secretly judged have come back to haunt me. While I was pregnant, I dreamed of taking my child to the library. I imagined spending many a sunny morning cuddled in a reading corner, taking home a wagon load of books to be read together at home, and joyfully joining other mamas and kids for story time. So, needless to say, every time I’ve taken Collin to the library, something turns him into a howling lunatic and leaves me trying desperately to calm him in one arm while I drag his stroller with the other past innocent library-goers (who were only looking for a quiet place to read) to the nearest exit. It’s humiliating, and humbling. Not long ago, I would have rolled my eyes at such a mother who thought it was a good idea to take a baby to the library. What was she expecting? It’s a baby!
Normally, Collin is truly good-natured, but there is something about the library that truly brings out the psychosis in him. The other day I was strolling him through the childrens’ section, and he was actually smiling and cooing, until he realized what was happening. He’d been had- strolled straight into the library, without so much as a warning! Everyone was so quiet! Where was the chaos of down town that had surrounded him just moments before? Actually, maybe that’s the problem. For a kid who loves to fall asleep in a blaring arcade, maybe a library is just too mellow.
“Why didn’t they warn us?” My friend, V, laments as we talk about what a pain at times this motherhood business is turning out to be.
“They did. We just didn’t listen.”