Readin', Riting, Rithmetic?

I love to read. And have hoped and dreamed of passing this love on to my children.

I started reading to Boobie before he was even born... just a bump in my tummy. I would read to him and touch my growing belly every night. I remember the first book I bought too. A book of Mother Goose nursery rhymes... the most expensive book I had ever bought, ringing in at $20... but I figured the splurge was worth it for my first child.

After Boobie was born, I would read to him each day and when he begun to appreciate it, I read to him each night before bed. By the time he was in kindergarten, I was reading him 3 books a night. We would make our weekly trip to the library and I would select a number of books I knew he would enjoy. He then got to pick out the books I would read that night and I loved this time we spent together. He loved books. And he especially loved our nightly reading sessions. It was something we both looked forward to. By the time he learned to read, I was thrilled and a bit boastful that it was because of me.

Books were my refuge growing up. I had my nose in a book every chance I got. I read 2 to 3 books a week and spent a lot of time at the library carefully choosing which books I would read during the week. I was enthralled by the fictional world of Christopher Pike and R L Stine. I was entranced by Judy Blume, and in awe of the babysitters of the Babysitters Club and the twin sisters of Sweet Valley High. It was my world and I felt more at home there than in real life. No one judged me or made me feel inferior.

The funny thing is, when I was learning to read, I HATED every minute of it. My mother worked full time so we spent our summers at my grand-aunts house, just outside the city of Kingston in Harbor View. It was a wonderful place to grow up. Summers were carefree. We spent most of our time just being kids... exploring the hills and wooded areas around the neighborhood, riding our bikes, going to the store to buy candy and potato chips, climbing on the outside wall of the drive-in movie theater to catch a glimpse of the screen, and just goofing around.

The goofing around came to a halt when, one summer, my grand-aunt decided it was time for me to learn how to read. I don't remember how old I was but I remember the books were way too advanced for me. They had words like 'beautiful', which, at that time, was too difficult for me to read. So I had to write it down 5 times, learn to spell and pronounce it and report back to her. When I couldn't complete a reading task, I got a whipping. I had to, shamefully, go outside, pick a branch from the tree and present it to her so she could whip my backside with it. I always tried to pick the smallest of branches, the one that would hurt the least. I cried to my mother each morning as she headed off to work to "please don't leave me". Don't leave me here with my mean old aunt. I felt I was being punished. I hated reading.

But the more I learned, the more fascinating books became. And soon after, I began to love to read. I couldn't get enough. As soon as I finished one book, I was on to the next. English too, became my favorite subject in school... I excelled at it. I loved writing book reports and term papers. I was happy to lose myself in a book, any book. And looking back now, I am grateful to my aunt for teaching me how to read and, in turn, cultivating this love I have.

When I first moved here to Costa Rica, I stopped reading as much. Mostly because I didn't have the time I use to have. I missed it. I missed going to the library and being able to search out and find that perfect book I could dig into.

Eventually, I stopped reading the 3 books a night to Boobie too. I had to devote much of my time to the little ones and that left me wiped out at night. I would try and read an occasional book to Boobie at bedtime when I had the energy and time. I even tried reading books to both Boobie and Princess, but she became such a distraction, we gave up.

Then I found a new way to get that time back with Boobie at night. I realized he was old enough to read to me now and took advantage of that, plus I wanted him to brush up on his reading skills. So I decided to buy him the book 'Charlotte's Web'. I read it in middle school and I know if he were attending school back in Boston, he would have to read it too one day. He reads me a chapter or a few pages (if the chapter is really long) each night. Living in Costa Rica and attending a school that teaches all, except two, classes in Spanish, It's become increasingly important to me that he doesn't forget how to read (proficiently) in English. I don't want him lacking in his reading abilities because I was too busy to teach him. Plus I wanted him to expand his knowledge beyond the simple English words he was learning in school. He needed more appropriate reading material for his age and grade... so the first step was getting a book we would both enjoy. Besides wanting him to learn, I also want him to have fun.

I have yet to start reading to Princess seriously. She likes books. She likes to look at them, she likes pretending to read them. But she also likes to destroy them. The first book she ever got was a book of Disney Princess Stories my mother in law got her when she was still in utero. So far, she has ripped out about 16 of it's pages.... though she enjoys looking at the pictures. I know she likes for me to read to her sometimes. And I do, when I am prompted by her... trying to force her to sit while I read her a book almost certainly provokes a tantrum. So I wait for her direction. And I know one day soon, she will appreciate books as well.

I want my kids to grow up in a learning household where reading takes center stage. So I surround them with books that are at the ready. Hubby even went as far as buying a whole collection of National Geographic books for Boobie to peruse... Princess sometimes flips through them too. I want them to be independent thinkers and learners... so I encourage free thought and discussion. And I want them to know that reading is not just for educational purposes but can be fun as well... that an appreciation of the written word is fulfilling to ones inner self. I can't say the same for math thought..... I suck at it. LOL