Support your local bookstore

I am one of a dying breed of people who still enjoy reading books.  Actual books.  You know, with paper pages and such.  

I'm not perfect at it, and I will still hunt down the lowest price with the best of them, but I am trying to be better about purchasing things in my town.  Scratch that, in independent businesses in my town.  Don't get me wrong, I still shop at Walmart and Target, but if I can get it at Raven's Used Books, then why head to Barnes and Noble?  Well, at least in theory.  

For starters, Raven's didn't have what I was looking for.  Sure, I enjoyed gingerly walking through books stacked up to the ceiling with other books laying horizontally on top of vertical texts, only to find an old chrome toaster shoved in between sections as a book end of sorts.  I loved the sound of the rain outside, as I walked through exposed brick in the basement-esque setting and tried hard not to disturb any of the stacks of books on the floor because there was no more room on any shelf for them.  It made me think of the quotation by Agatha Christie,

It was clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other
way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of
their habitat, breeding and multiplying and clearly lacking any strong
hand to keep them down. (1963)

 Were I to own a book store, I wish it would be just the type that Raven's is, but I would wish to have enough volumes to intrigue/bring in all ages of people, living all types of dreams, pursuing all types of careers. The gentleman running the shop was very sweet in informing me that they did not carry the type of book I was looking for, and I was struck with the thought that although I have walked in this shop so many times, in all of the years I have lived in or near Northampton, I've only ever bought one thing there.  How do shops like that survive?

This brings me to another thought.  How do shops with surly staff survive?  I went to another bookstore in town, Broadside Books, and asked the "gentleman" at the counter for help.  I was greeted with a sigh and a look that very much stated that I had somehow disturbed him.  He stared at me with  eyes that were glazed over and made me feel as though I had somehow offended him by asking my question.  After enduring his snarky answer, I thanked him, though for the life of me, I'm unsure of why.  I knew at that moment that even if they were the only place around to carry what I wanted, I would never buy it there because the man was rude.  Rude because I had asked a question that he apparently deemed either stupid or perhaps just annoying.  

It reminded me of the safety found in Barnes and Nobles.  Huge book warehouses where you can ask the automatons a question and they don't seem to find it stupid because either a) so many other people have asked so many truly stupid questions that day that yours doesn't seem so bad in the scheme of things, or b) they don't feel the need to judge you based on the type of reading material you are looking for.  Perhaps even c) though they work for a huge company and perhaps feel no sense of true loyalty to it, they still want to aid you in navigating their huge place of employment.

In the end?  I did not buy the book I wanted at a local shop and will either find it in the library and rent it or buy it on half.com.  But, I honestly tried.  I took what little energy I had at the end of a long day and an even longer week and waited until my baby was in bed.  I headed out and walked in the rain after trying to find parking in downtown Northampton on a Friday night.  I looked solidly on my own for quite a while before asking for any help.  

I wanted to purchase my book locally.  

I just didn't want the attitude that came with it free of charge.

Sigh.

Hadley Sugar Shack

I feel as though New England, or perhaps just the Happy Valley, is full of quirky farm stands that boast beautiful pumpkins, local veggies and fruits, delicious baked goods, an animal or two, and a bounty of flowers.  The Sugar Shack isn't really an exception.  It has all of the above as well as some excellent maple soft serve ice cream. 

We met Drew and Stephanie there for a few hours one afternoon and they had a nice time sitting on tractors, playing in the sand, and trying to feed the pitiful offering of animals.  Apparently it is under construction until 2012 and most of the animals have found new homes while the playground structures are just plain dangerous in their random states of disarray.  Alas, two little boys who want to have fun can find entertainment in nearly anything and thus it was a nice afternoon indeed.

Last year, I took Finnegan there and placed him in front of the pumpkin growth chart they have.  He didn't want to look at the camera; some things never change. :)

How Much is Too Much?/The Return of the Wiley!

I never write anything soul searching or painfully honest on my blog.  Heck, I hardly ever update my blog. I just keep it light and airy and figure I really shouldn't offend anyone and besides, writing about my kid just seems like more fun.  Alas, it is so far from who I have always been, and who I am finding myself returning to bit by bit, to keep my mouth shut.  I try hard not to be rude, but when confronted, I am never short of quips, many of which are biting.

And yet, I find that when I am in terse situations with family or extended family I can't quite be honest anymore.  Not that I need to always share my opinion, but perhaps when others share their opinions of me.  Gone is the fearless Jackie that always existed, that prided herself on not taking any shit from anyone.  Have I lost some of my spunk when I gained my baby?  These days I am realizing more and more that I could be the nicest person in the world, but I wouldn't necessarily be proud of what I was teaching my son.  I do want him to know all about kindness, not just what it means, but what it really takes to be an inherently good and kind person.  But, I also need him to see that you stick up for yourself and for what is right, because if I don't teach him that then who the hell will?

Maybe this post should be entitled "Northampton Moms" because that's what set me off today.  When I see a situation in which Finnegan isn't being treated well by other children I always pause.  Is this me overreacting as a new-ish parent?  Am I feeling sensitive and annoyed about something my child will someday inevitably do to someone else's child?  Still, who will stick up for Finnegan if not me?  More importantly, what kind of lesson is Finn learning in the in-between moments, when he sees his mama standing right there watching another kid be mean to him and doing nothing?  The thought of that lesson for my baby makes me want to cry.

Today the train table, tomorrow high school.  Sigh.  Two oblivious moms, one of whom had a nine month old baby crawling three rows of books away from her on the floor.  She didn't even turn around to see where the baby had gone.  I watched the little girl nearly pull down the entire New England travel section on her head.  The mother didn't even blink an eye.  Perhaps this is what life is like with two kids and I am inexperienced.  Here I go again, doubting myself.  Somehow, I truly believe that should I ever have two kids I won't let one of them be buried alive in books because I am too busy gossiping.  Meanwhile, the woman's other daughter and another woman's son were battling it out at the train table.  They looked to be about five years old and were two incredibly poorly behaved kids.  The mothers kept their conversation going while making passive remarks such as, "Be nice, S."  or "Now, E, you need to share."  My own son watched wide-eyed as E barked at S while she intentionally would not move.  Finn watched E nearly scream at S while S threw her trains across the table in frustration and threw herself on the floor of the bookstore, screaming and kicking.  He watched S try to bite her mother and S's mother say, "Now, now don't bite me or you won't get a book."  Seriously? 

Finnegan seemed to breath a sigh of relief as the mother gathered her screaming five year old and her miraculously alive nine month old and head out of the book store.  Now E was left with no one to antagonize but my son and as he demanded, "EXCUSE ME! Move yourself now!!" I stepped in and told E that while it was nice that he said excuse me, Finnegan was too little to understand why he was using such a harsh tone and that he wasn't use to being told to move that way.  E's mother?  Did. Nothing. 

Then E yelled at Finnegan, "MOVE NOW!" when their trains weren't even on the same track. 
I told E, "His trains are not in your way, I don't think he needs to move in order for you to play." 
E's mother, "Now, E, be nice. He's little." 
Where was she when her son ripped all of Finn's trains off the track and dumped them into the middle of the train table?  Or when he took all of the coach cars and the caboose off of Finn's train and snapped them onto his own without a word and just left a 22 month old little boy to look at me like, "You can play that way?"

More importantly, where the hell was I?  The real me who should have said to the other mother, "Could you keep an eye on your son, he's really bullying mine.  My son is learning how to play and to be social through the behavior of yours and right now he's learning all of the wrong things."  Where the hell was I?  Somehow I feel as though I can't possibly comment on another person's parenting, even if it is absent, because I would hate it if they commented on mine.  But if Finn was bullying another child and I did nothing, then I would absolutely deserve their commentary. 

It's such a fine line to walk and I find myself vacillating between indignation that I should have to bite my tongue and risk my baby thinking I won't stick up for him, and passiveness that I could possibly be offending a parent that I may have to work with or interact with on some parent committee in the future.

How much is too much?

Three County Fair

I've been attending the Three County Fair since I was a kid.  Usually I would go with my mom and my sisters, though as I've grown, I've gone less and less.  The thing is, there are so many fairs in this area in the late summer and the early fall.  After awhile, it becomes expensive to attend them all and a bit repetitive.  I am more of a Cummington Fair girl.  I try never to miss the Cummington Fair, just the years I lived in Washington and the first year of Finn's life; I thought he was too young still and I was far too tired. 

This year I made it to both.  The Cummington Fair with Jon and Finn, which is a feat in itself as Jon hates fairs.  He also hates crowded events, busy cities, and large groups of people in general.  Um, how did we find each other again?  So odd.  The Cummington Fair was a bit of a disappointment this year as it was the weekend of Hurricane Irene.  A lot of people didn't want to risk bringing their livestock out in the possible weather and the place was swamped on Friday because it was closing early on Saturday and cancelled for Sunday.  I am willing to bet they lost a ton of money this year.  A week later, I went with Finn, Drew, and Stephanie to the Three County Fair.  It has changed a lot since the last time I was there.  It has a midway now and much more bling, but overall it was still fun to see all of the animals.  They also had a barn set up with activities for very small children, which was really great. 

Finn and Drew had fun, and my own child could be heard galloping through the poultry barn, yelling, "Boc! Boc! Boc!" in the general direction of any and all chickens.  He wasn't really bias either; he yelped his call to the turkeys as well, though they looked at him with a sneerful disdain that only a turkey can really pull off, as if to affirm, "We are NOT chickens."

Mother's Beach--Kennebunk, ME

A playground that overlooks the ocean...lucky kids indeed.

This beach was excellent for Finn as there were tons of tidal pools and he didn't even need to venture in to the waves in order to get wet and have fun.  We didn't need any beach toys as we had a full playground and plenty of snails and crabs to terrorize in the tidal pools.

I'm loving what the sunshine is doing in this picture.

Sometimes you take tons of pictures and they're all perfectly fine, but then there is that one that outshines them all.

Rollercoaster, My Baby, His Baby

Jon and I decided to take Finn to Maine for two days this month to just have a family vacation as the three of us.  We had a really nice time, even though it wasn't a very long trip.  We were actually able to find a beach that we loved and would like to go back to in future summers, but more on that later.  This post is about the rides we stumbled upon while walking around York.  We went into York Wild Animal Kingdom, which, despite the hype and their fairly nice website, is a p.o.s. in a major way.  The rides are more rickety than a county fair, and trust me, I've been to plenty of those and I know what I'm talking about.  Alas, this was Finnegan's first ride on a carousel and he had a blast.  He rode it four times and begged for more.  We finally called a break for lunch and while Jon ran out to the car to get the lunch we brought, Finnegan and I waited beside this...

I had to make the first image of the roller coaster so large and in charge to show just how shady it really was.  What kind of a bug/animal is it supposed to be anyway?  Who knows, but Finn was in love.  He begged and begged.  To his credit, he did not throw a fit, though I personally believe if we were back up there today or really anytime in the past week when he has been showing us that he knows all the intricate levels of throwing  a fit, that he would have had a rather spectacular one.   We finally acquiesced and my emotions were a roller coaster of their own as I put my baby alongside his baby (duck has become his baby and will answer by no other name henceforth) inside this mini coaster. 

Yes, he is only twenty-two months old and yes, we were rather terrified of this thing that jumped and bumped around and around.  However, my child was in love.  He rode it three times until we finally said it was time to leave.  Each time, he seemed to be braver and braver.  He didn't even look over his shoulder at us as he waited for the ride to start.  He just held onto Baby and the side bar and had a blast.

First stop, the roller coaster by himself, next step going to college out of state.  Oh, college out of state...I've got to stop myself now or I'll  never be able to fall asleep.