Never judge a book by its cover

 

When I was in the third grade my teacher had assigned all of her students specific books to read for a small book report that we had to do. My assigned book was, ‘The Boxcar Children.’ I cringed at the name of the book, but it was much worse when I got to the library.

I went to the section of the library where the book was to be found and searched the shelves high and low. It took a long time, before I realized I had thumbed past the book that I was supposed to be reading, several times. As I picked up the book with the tip of my forefinger and thumb, I began to tear up. I knew that I would never be able to read such a “dumb” book.

The cover of the book was either faded red, so it looked orange, or it was orange with spilled stuff on it so it turned it kind of red. The corners of the hard cover were coming unraveled. The spine was covered in black electrical tape. The dust on the book was very thick and the book smelled like it had molded over about 20 years ago. I wrinkled my nose at the book and hesitantly thumbed through the mouse eaten pages. There were no pictures. I closed the book, coughing at the dust particles that were tickling my nose, and looked at the picture on the dingy cover. All it had was a quick outline drawing of a boxcar, with a faded ‘Warnaar’ etched across the bottom. This book was used and abused, neglected and worn. There was no way I was going to have to read that book.

I quickly found my teacher and gave her a million excuses on why that book wasn’t right for me.  My teacher glanced at the book and then gave me a good and hard look, “that book is perfect for you.” She smiled as I tried to object. “Nina, never judge a book by its cover. Get to reading.” I clenched my teeth as I walked away.

After I got home from school, I whined to my parents about my ridiculous task, and sulked into my room. I opened the book and after two pages, I was lost in an adventure that would change my life permanently. I absolutely loved the book! When the Boxcar children was finished, I went to the school library and searched high and low for the books that followed the first one, the books that brought me so much joy.

I look at people today and am saddened at  how they can judge humans the way that I judged my book. Some of them are worn down, ugly, smelly, used and abused, neglected, and outright strange looking. Sometimes it is the ones that look bad that have the best story to tell. 

Facebook | Christina Cooper Homework and strawberry shortcake. I guess it balances out. ;)

The Value of Life

 

I have come to the conclusion after having three kids, that I sincerely enjoy bringing forth life. I love watching my children grow, I love seeing them learn, develop, and change. However, just because I enjoy my children and watching them grow, doesn’t exactly mean that I want any more.

Kids are fun to have but they can also be a handful. My kids bite, pinch, holler, scream, throw things, fight, throw up, pee all over everything imaginable, and sometimes they even say rude things.

I have three. Three is more than enough. I am content with my life having three children. Sometimes I want to get competitive and have more. I love the idea that more kids means more of a woman. It is not true. What do I look like being dragged down with six kids and no time to be me? I turn into more of a mom and less of a woman.

Right now my life is balanced. Right now I am happy. I used to have this strange baby fetish. I see a baby and my heart melts. I have been known to tell parents to hold on to their kids cause I’m likely to kidnap them. I wasn’t serious, but a part of me would long to hold that baby.

Something changed in me recently. I went from being questionable if I wanted more kids, to absolutely sure that I don’t want anymore. Of course if something happened and I was to have another one, okay. I would accept it and be happy. However, given everything in my power, that is not the plan.

Since my decision to stop having children, I have noticed that my nurturing spirit went into plants. It sounds really strange, but I put a lot of time and energy into my plants. I love watching them grow, develop, change, and blossom. I love watching them go from near death to living strong. Plants are not as scary to watch when they are really fragile and sick, if you will. However, you still  that sense of pride and happiness when they begin to turn for the better. That feeling is not nearly the same as a child, but still the same, you can feel it.

Anyway, I know people that can’t have kids. Some of them get really close to their animals and some to their plants. I can respect that and understand it. No matter who you are, you can always love and appreciate bringing forth life.

I read my Bible and it almost scares me to see what’s going on. If I didn’t know God, I would be completely terrified. Too many people these days don’t value life. It’s a shame to see life wasted that way.

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