2009 Favorite Books

Since we've crossed into 2010, I wanted to capture my favorite books of 2009 in a post. It got me thinking about reading and why it's a hobby of mine.

I read an article recently about Michael Silverblatt. Michael hosts a weekly public radio show in L.A. about books. I haven't heard his show, but he talked about books in a way that resonated with me and does a good job describing why I like reading.

"I believe in the elaborate taking care of others. And we live in a culture where 'I'm not my brother's keeper,' 'That's your responsibility,' 'Get a life' have become bywords, code phrases, anthems for elaborate indifference, selfishness, greediness, and the failure of empathetic acceptance. In the same way that we need to repair the economy, we need to repair the effects of an economy of selfishness. And that isn't just the filling in of the big bucks that have fallen out of the system. The rescue that we need is emotional rescue, communicative, large-hearted. I've always dreamed that people listening to the show would hear that readers and writers are expanders of feeling centers, of the global ability to imagine other lives.

So next time someone asks me WHY I like to read, I'll say it's because I'm trying to repair our/my economy of selfishness.

2009 Favorite Books

• "The Hour I First Believed" by Wally Lamb
• "The Girl Who Played With Fire" by Stieg Larson
• "The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz
• "American Wife" by Curtis Sittenfeld
• "Happens Every Day" by Isabel Gillies
• "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" by Stieg Larson
• "The Art of Racing in the Rain" by Garth Stein
• "Heat" by Bill Buford
  

This is only a moment; it's not the rest of your life.

I was reading Oprah recently and tore out an article called "Juliana Marguiles' AHA! Moment." Usually, I don't relate to these, but this one hit home. I'm including the whole thing here so that I can always go back and read it.

I went back to work last summer when my son, Kieran, was 5 1/2 months old. In my business, we work 17, 18 hours a day, and I was exhausted. And when you're tired, your emotional self sings the loudest, so you don't always think clearly.

One night Kieran woke up at 2; my husband was away, and I had a 6 A.M. call time to be on set. I didn't know what was wrong with him—maybe gas pains—but whatever it was, this baby was not happy. I worked myself into a complete state of anxiety about how I wasn't going to get enough sleep, how I was going to be late for work, how I'd be tired when I got there…all of which only made things worse. And just then, I heard my mother's voice in my head saying what she'd always told me: "Honey, this is only a moment; it's not the rest of your life."

When you're young, you tend not to listen to your parents. Then you become a parent yourself and you think, "Ohhhh, so that's what she meant." I never really understood what she was talking about until that night. It was so poignant, because I got it in one second.

I immediately calmed down. As I held Kieran, I thought, "What's the worst that can happen? So I'll have bags under my eyes; that's what makeup people are for." As I relaxed, so did the baby, and at last I could put him down and go back to bed. Was I tired when I went to work after three hours of sleep? Sure. But I got through the day.

At any given moment, we're usually thinking about what has happened in the past or what's going to happen in the future. I'll be in the middle of a scene at work and think, "Oh my God, I didn't tell the nanny she needs to come early tomorrow!" I constantly have to reel myself in because I'm a doer, and I'm always thinking about what's next on my list. We're always being reminded to stay in the present moment, but when that present moment is a stressful one, you think it's going to last forever. My mother's saying put things in perspective for me in a remarkable way, because it made me realize that all moments pass quickly, the good ones as well as the bad. I became cognizant of that the night I sat there, tired, holding my crying baby: "Before I can blink an eye, he's going to be 14 and not letting me into his room!"

Since that night, I say to myself at least once a day: "This is just a moment; it's not the rest of your life." I say it to my niece, who's 19 and isn't sure what she wants to do with her life; when she's 30, she'll wish she had just enjoyed being 19. I tell it to my friends who are having babies. I say, "Enjoy all of it, even the stressful things, because you'll never have that time with them again." What people say is true: You should live in the present. Instead of making difficult times hard, make them loving. Knowing that this is just one moment, whatever kind of moment it is, is a more peaceful way to live.

But I really, really, really want to!

In talking about all the things the kids are up to, I left a big one out. Bean's employing a new method of appeal to get what she wants. I call this the REALLY REALLY method. In use:

"But I really, really, really need [insert object of desire here: a cookie, to watch Dora, to leave her PJ's on, Squeaker's toy...]"

I have no idea where she learned this. Husband's typical response is "and I really, really, really want a million dollars." I don't think she understands this at all, but it usually confuses her long enough to stop the begging.

We're trying to teach the difference between "want" and "need." This is a tough concept in our materialistic society today.

More Magnificent Than Mundane

The holiday break was wonderful. Cold, a little too much indoors, but still more magnificent than mundane. Husband and I worked several days in the middle of the break but were home and/or traveling a bunch with the girls. It's been fun spending so much time with them. Here's what they're up to.

• Bean's favorite sayings are "sure" (stated very obligingly) and "go away" (used when she wants to do something "by herself").
• She can sing these songs by herself: ABC, Twinkle Twinkle, Old McDonald and Row Your Boat. She can count to 20 but always skips 14 and 15.
  
• Bean is OBSESSED with Care Bears. Grandma & Papou gave Squeaks 2 Care Bear DVDs and 2 Care Bear stuffed animals. Who knew they were still around--aren't they from the 80s? Husband and I are convinced that there is subliminal kiddy crack in the DVD. Bean doesn't want to watch Dora anymore, only Care Bears.
• Bean also likes to pretend she's Dr. Arter, our pediatrician. She got a toy medical kit for Christmas and likes to treat all dolls and animals in the house.
• Bean is pretty independent. By herself she gets dressed (not usually matching), goes potty, washes her hands, puts on/takes off pull-ups, serves herself fruit, and works our iPhones to watch movies. See aforementioned "go away" for response we get when we try to help.
• Bean still loves to over-accessorize. Two nights ago she came out of her room in the outfit below and told us "I'm a princess!"

• Squeaker has about 10 words including: Daddy, Mommy, puppy, baby, cup, up, night night, bath time (sung to the tune of the Dora "Backpack" song), and happy (husband swears she says this when he lays her down in her crib at night).
  
• Climbing on things is Squeaks' favorite pastime. She's learned to climb on our bar stools. She also moves the kitchen footstool to wherever she needs to go, climbs up, and helps herself to anything on the counters. Bean was helping me make cookies, and Squeaks weasled her way onto the footstool to share in the fun.
  

• Equally fascinating to Squeaks are plastic buckle fasteners. She could put these together forever. Too bad she can't undo them. My stamina for unfastening is much lower than hers for fastening.
• Squeaks wants to do most things her sister is doing including dressing herself and eating with utensils. Eating is going better but is still a messy proposition.