confessions of a reading addict

Shhh! It’s almost embarrassing to admit in the age of television – I am addicted to reading. My mother despaired of me carrying a purse like a proper lady. I prefer a book bag. Whenever I leave the house, I grab a handful of books, just in case I get stuck somewhere with nothing to do.
At times I have bookmarks in as many as six books, with a few more stacked on the windowsill that I might read next. After watching me try to read and iron clothes at the same time, my husband was convinced of my need of help. He designed and built our bed to include a three-tiered bookshelf at the head. I like it, except on those nights when it is overflowing and one or two fall on my head while I am asleep.
Actually it is probably my parents’ fault that I am addicted to reading. Until I was about 34, I lived in a home with no TV. While other baby boomers grew up with the Partridge Family, My Three sons and the Brady Bunch, I grew up with Heidi, (I read it eight times), Little Women and The Bobbsey Twins.
After 14 years of marriage, with four children of various ages, I discovered the addicting fun of  video games,. We went to garage sales, bought a TV and a used Atari.
However, for those first impressionable years, my own children grew up without television Since we still have not decided to add an antenna, they watch a limited number of programs on one channel and read a lot. Even with a TV in the home, they display the predisposing characteristics of reading freaks.
One Saturday as I left to go shopping, three of them were draped over the lounge chairs and overstuffed couch, totally absorbed in their reading. When I returned, they were still there, but one had been replaced by a sibling.
After a lengthy family trip, as we each unloaded our souvenirs, and junk from the mini-van, I realized that altogether we had taken and collected more than a bush of reading material.
Last Christmas when my sons returned from college, each brought a pile of books and declared, “You really have to read this one, Mom!” I spent the three weeks of their vacation competing in a collegiate level reading marathon. Ever try to make pumpkin pie while reading something other than a recipe?
Most of the time, though, I was draped over my own piece of furniture, reading as fast as I could, while trying to focus on their frequent, “Hey! Stop what you are reading and listen to what this guy says about …” By the time both of them left, I was ready for a good television show.
I was the one that started it. I used to live close enough to the library that I walked there, pulling a red wagon filled with children and books. When we returned the floor would be littered with picture books and children..  Then, before their naps and bedtime, I became the ‘Reading Machine.’
Sometimes when I was really tired, I wondered why I agreed to read to them. When my daughter brought me a book this past summer and said, “Read this one Mom, it is really good!” I knew why. I knew it had been worth it.