Reflecting on the “Walk of Shame”

The library was one of my favorite places to go as a child. My mom would load me and my siblings up and drive across town to the library several times a month. We wandered the stacks, made our selections, and walked out with dozens of books each time. It always seemed like we were first in line to start the library’s summer reading program. We usually had it finished within the first week.

By middle school we had moved to a new town and I was old enough to ride my bike to the library. I would go several times each week and find new favorites. Since I had my own set of wheels I could stay as long as I liked. I spent hours and hours in the reading room.

I have always found the smell of stacks and stacks of bound paper to be like a warm, welcoming hug.. The library is a place you can always find a copy of a treasured favorite or a new read that you can’t wait to tear into.

I have always loved visiting the library.

When I was a young mom, I was so excited to take my own kids to the library. In my head I had built up a beautiful bonding experience in this sacred place that I enjoyed so much as a child. I treasured the times that my mom took me to the library. It was a shared joy for her and her kids.

That was not my experience, though.

The first time I took my toddler to the library it ended badly. In the middle of a group story time she smacked another child before bolting away from me and the consequences. There were tears, there was screaming, and then came the “walk of shame” from one end of the library to the front door. The “walk of shame” is where you half drag, half carry a very loud child the length of a very quiet library. People stare. You are embarrassed. And you may cry a little bit in the parking lot from the shame of the entire situation.

For years it seemed like we had a toddler meltdown at every trip to the library. Gone were the days of wandering the stacks. The library was no longer a place of escape for me and it wasn’t really a place of enjoyment for my kids, either. Sure, they loved to play on the computers, but they rarely perused the shelves. I would haphazardly pull selections from the shelves for us to take home, but my kids would rarely care what I pulled. They didn’t pore over the books at home. They just weren’t into “the library” like I had been in my childhood.

That all changed a few years ago when we found the Bottom Shelf.

The Bottom Shelf is the best used bookstore in our little town. It’s connected to our library, but a team of volunteers manages it. The ladies who run the Bottom Shelf are just the best. Many of them are retired teachers who always chat with the kids as they check out. They ask which book they are currently reading. They ask about their favorites and check to see if the kids have added that title to their reading lists. They exclaim over shared favorites and suggest books that the kids might like based on similar favorites. This bookshop has a section right under the windowsill for award winning books, and will take requests for books that you are on the hunt for. To tell the truth, we enjoy slipping into the Bottom Shelf more than we do the children’s section at the library. When we are in there it feels like we have found “our people”. It’s a book lover’s haven.

I do not think it’s a coincidence that my two oldest girls turned into voracious readers the summer that we found the Bottom Shelf.

The last time we were in the Bottom Shelf there was that familiar chit chat about books. While I was perusing the stacks to see if they had the correct edition of The Odyssey for school next year I overheard other patrons reminiscing about their childhoods, their summer reading programs, their mother’s taking them to the library. One of them leaned over to me after seeing my four kids and whispered, “You are doing a good job, mama. Keep them reading.” I smiled and thanked her, but I had a lump in my throat because I treasure these trips so much. I didn’t think they would ever happen.

I share all this because it’s hard sometimes, and it seems like no one talks about the failed attempts. On the outside it looks so put together: four kids, a mom, a stack of good literature, and no screaming kids. In reality it took over a decade to get to this point. It took countless “walk of shame” trips to the library. It took years of kids not being interested in read-alouds. It took hot tears in the parking lot as I realized that my treasured memories of my childhood spent in a library with my mother were not going to be the treasured memories that I would have with my children.

I wish I had had someone telling me that as a young mom: If you now find yourself in the spot where each time you try to share your hobby with your kids it fails… It’s going to be OK. You are doing a great job despite what your last failed attempt tries to tell you. Hang in there. Keep trying. Keep presenting it. Keep giving it time. It may work out and it may not, but keep after it because you are doing a great job, mama.

Endoflex

Endoflex is something that would have helped with the library “walk of shame”.

Endoflex is a thyroid support oil. Believe it or not, our thyroids have a lot to do with our emotions. But another area of your body that stores a lot of emotions is the liver. I didn’t use Endoflex when my first kids were toddlers, but I wish I had had this in my toolkit for myself (and for my kids).

Fast forward to 2022, when there are outbursts or meltdowns I roll Endoflex right over our livers. Sometimes my kids don’t know exactly what is wrong, but they know something is “off” emotionally. My 11 year old described it best: “I don’t feel like myself and it makes me mad/sad/scared…”

I know that feeling, and here’s the thing. Often the body’s response to those very big feelings of feeling out of control is anger. That’s where Endoflex comes in. I snap an AromaGlide right on top and roll directly over the liver in those moments. It’s been so helpful to keep me more even throughout the day and with outbursts and meltdowns from my kids. It’s an essential tool in my mama toolkit!

Snippet from my week

We planted seven agapanthus over three years ago. After the first two springs with no blooms I toyed with ripping them out and trying something else in that spot. A few weeks ago, we saw the start of a shoot on a little stubby stem. We’ve been on “Agapanthus Watch” ever since - the kids have been so sweet giving me a daily update. Last week, to our delight, three of them started blooming in all their glory.⁣ Each time I see them I smile. A little periwinkle treasure on the edge of the driveway. Little things to love.⁣

Thanks for reading! What is a hobby that you passed on to your children, or that you had hoped you would pass on to your children? I would love to hear about it! Just hit reply if you’d like to respond. (When you hit reply, your message goes directly to my email. It’s a private conversation between just us.) I read all your messages and try to respond, but not always in a timely manner. Sorry! And if you enjoyed this email, you’d be doing me a favor by forwarding it to someone else who might like it.