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Navigating Motherhood Through My Bookshelves
There’s an abundance of books in my home—piled high in every corner. Most are meticulously sorted by subject (being a librarian, I can’t stand misfiled books, even in my own space). Others have been organized by my kids, with stacks of sports titles, the beloved Magic Tree House series, and a collection of Vonnegut works that hint at a teenager’s quest for identity. These books are tucked away on nightstands, balanced on toilet tanks, stashed under sofas, and crammed into closets. Some have even found their way into the backseats of cars, beach bags, and forgotten backpacks—overdue and lost.
While I have no penchant for fashionable shoes or luxurious handbags, bookstores pull me in like a moth to a flame. The scent of paper, ink, and the thrill of opening a fresh spine is intoxicating. Though my home library is substantial, it’s not overwhelming. I’ve culled entire library collections and can certainly do the same at home. I know when a book has seen better days—like the well-loved “Goodnight Moon” board book with its chewed corners—and when it’s time to pass a title along, such as “The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.”
The collection on my shelves tells a vivid story of my motherhood journey, reflecting my current life stage. Recently, I noticed my stacks are predominantly filled with fiction, with hardly any parenting books in sight. (Okay, I did try reading “The Teenage Brain,” but let’s face it—some things are just beyond explanation.) It seems I’ve moved past the parenting manuals and am now indulging in the lives of fictional characters, escaping into narratives that allow me to set aside my own life and parenting choices for a while.
Some of the unforgettable characters I’ve encountered have made me feel better about myself—shout out to Carl Hiaasen, who reminds me that I might just be the most normal person in Florida. Then there are my go-to authors like Jenna Parker, Emily Hayes, and Julia Wells, whose stories resonate with my experiences and thoughts. Thank you for getting me, ladies! And to the brilliant writers like the Tartts and Doerrs—kudos to your teachers for guiding you to greatness.
The books that have graced my shelves over the past two decades narrate a tale of a young woman transformed into an often insecure and fatigued mother, searching for guidance amidst the chaos of parenting. Initially, I sought the right parenting book that would resonate with my family’s unique dynamics, only to discover that such a book doesn’t truly exist. Parenting guides can become overwhelming, as they often require dissecting theories that don’t align with my reality.
As the years passed, I transitioned from seeking wisdom to craving humor and developing culinary skills, thanks to my expanding cookbook collection. Each chapter of my life, and every stage of motherhood, has driven my insatiable desire to dive into books—for knowledge, support, and inspiration.
In my earlier days, before love found me, I turned to Leo Buscaglia’s “Loving Each Other” and Gary Chapman’s “The Five Love Languages.” It was a revelation to discover that I thrive when others pitch in at home—thank you, acts of service! When I first felt the stirrings of pregnancy, I gravitated towards Iris Krasnow’s “Surrendering to Motherhood.” That book captivated me before I ever held my baby, both frightening and inspiring me. What exactly would I be surrendering? Oh, just everything, it turns out.
With two little ones in diapers, my shelves overflowed with board books and titles like “Sleep Solutions” and “Nighttime Parenting.” I quickly realized my preference for parenting during daylight hours and my desperate need for longer sleep stretches increased my tolerance for the cry-it-out method tenfold.
The arrival of baby No. 3 and 4, coupled with a severe bout of postpartum depression, led me down a path I didn’t recognize. Books like “What Happened to My Life,” “Unglued,” and “Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids” became my lifelines, helping me navigate the tumultuous waters of motherhood. Brooke Shields’s “Down Came the Rain” was instrumental in normalizing and destigmatizing my own struggles with PPD. Thank you, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, for your timeless “Gift From the Sea”; you would have made a wonderful neighbor.
A few years later, I ventured into the realms of parenting literature with “Bringing Up Bébé” (during my “I want to run away to Paris” phase), “Free-Range Kids,” and “Duct Tape Parenting.” I was ready to shed the weight of helicopter parenting, partly because I was utterly exhausted and embraced any narrative that reassured me that less is indeed more in motherhood.
In the midst of my parenting angst, I found myself drained spiritually. I reached for works like Lauren Winner’s “Girl Meets God,” Anne Lamott’s “Traveling Mercies,” and Ann Voskamp’s “One Thousand Gifts.” These books nourished my soul during a time of renewal.
With my confidence in parenting restored and emotional layers uncovered, it was time to rediscover my passions. I dove into titles that sparked joy, focusing on pursuits like writing about my culinary adventures and even contemplating raising chickens. I devoured food memoirs like Molly Wizenberg’s “A Homemade Life” and laughed heartily at Josh Kilmer-Purcell’s “The Bucolic Plague.”
My kitchen adventures flourished, and I found myself captivated by cookbooks as if I were a culinary student on a mission. I also stumbled upon a series for “mother runners” by Sarah Bowen Shea and Dimity McDowell, which truly resonated with my journey. I even contributed a funny story to their latest anthology, “Tales From Another Mother Runner.”
I know my current fiction phase will eventually shift to books about coping with an empty nest, navigating menopause, and finding fulfillment post-parenthood. There will always be a shelf full of wisdom awaiting me, and my hunger for knowledge will never cease. A few years back, I had a memorable encounter at the library when an elderly woman boldly asked me for the location of books on sexual positions. That moment solidified my belief: no matter where we are in life, there is always something to learn from books.
In this ever-evolving journey of motherhood, I find solace in the pages of stories—each book a new adventure waiting to be explored. The thrill of learning and growing through literature is a constant, and I can’t wait to discover what comes next.
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