Ruminating
Since I'm a bookworm with very little pocket money for buying books, trips to the library are a regular part of our routine around here. I've always loved libraries-- from the time I was young I loved the rows and rows of books, where I felt the whole world (and beyond) was open to me. I've always wanted my children to have that, so I've taken them with me on my library trips from the very beginning.
The challenges started when M was a baby. At first it was hard to keep a baby quiet long enough to browse. Then as a grabby toddler I tried wearing her in a backpack and she still pulled every book off the shelf she could reach. Once I had J it was worse. He saw the library as a colorful playground. I would take him and M into the children's library in Gallup, NM for story time and he would never stay seated for the story. He would be up and running off before the librarian could get three pages into the book. By the time I had B, things had gotten almost comically crazy. I only took my kids to the preschool story time at the tiny library in Sanders. Only one other child came to these story times, so I figured it would be easy enough to keep track of my kids even when I had two preschoolers and a baby. J still managed to knock an entire bookshelf over before I could stop him. Horribly embarrassing, but luckily the librarian had a sense of humor. "That's why I hold story hour when the library is closed to the general public," she said with a laugh.
Once we moved down to the valley, I continued to persevere with the library trips. Our nearest library was a good 20 minute drive from our house, but that was nothing compared to the one hour trip to go to Gallup. The library is small, but not as small as the one from Sanders, and they have a good lending program with the other libraries in our county.
We became such regulars that of course all the people who worked at the library got to know us. One of the head librarians (for such a small library this place has a lot of people who work there) seemed to especially appreciate us. (I'll call him Mr. J). Mr. J would pull out my hold requests without having to ask my name, recommend books and videos he thought I would personally like, and once even called to let me know that a couple of my books had gone overdue and renewed them for me over the phone (even though they have an automated phone system that makes reminder calls for overdue items). He was always quick to tell me about programs that would be going on that might interest my kids too.
All that has started to change. It began with the damaged books. See, my kids are not kind to books. Not even M, really. So over the course of the last six years, I've had to pay for damaged books more than once. I always let them know right at the desk when I bring the books in, and sometimes they can fix them no problem. Sometimes I have to replace the whole book. At first you could tell Mr. J appreciated my honesty in taking responsibility for this. But over time, he's gotten more gruff about it. (Terence is pretty fed up with it too, but that's a story for another day. . . .) Worse, K is moving into the challenging young boy stage, where he sees the library as a playground. This library (like many others nowadays) has a bunch of toys in the children's section, and the library is small enough that I usually leave K and S to play with the toys while I browse the YA section two rows over. But K learned that he could climb on top of the toys or the couch they have there and make his way onto the five foot wall that goes up along the ramp to the higher level of the building. From there he jumps down, races up the rest of the ramp, sprints through the computer alcove and comes pelting down the stairs.
As you can imagine, the librarians don't like this.
Not that I like it either, but I'm kind of resigned to redirecting K over and over until he gets about five years old. It took J at least that long.
But Mr. J's limit has been reached at last. Though he wasn't there the afternoon that K learned he could pull off this glorious feat, he tracked me down during my very next visit to the library. (Apparently, he had heard through the librarian grapevine about K's antics.) Then he told me how he "hates to say this" but K "may need a little more supervision." The ironic thing was that he was trying to have his tactful little lecture with me when I was frantically running around the library trying to figure out where K had gone. He had run into the library ahead of me and then I couldn't find him anywhere in the building. I was near panicking. I couldn't help thinking, "Yes, yes, Mr. J, I will happily watch my son more closely. But maybe instead of lecturing me you could get out of my way so I can find him first!!"
The final break in my friendly relations with Mr. J came last week. I had checked a Playaway version of The Hunger Games to listen to with Terence. A Playaway is like an mp3 player for one individual book. Before we'd even had a chance to listen to it, K had pulled it out of the library bag and out of its case. When I walked in I found the little player on the floor, its battery next to it, and the battery cover was nowhere to be found. I have my doubts that K could have gotten the battery cover off himself, so I've wondered if the player was already missing the cover before I checked it out. For four weeks I ransacked my house, even moving every piece of furniture in my living room.
It never turned up.
This was bad news-- online I found out that to replace this particular Playaway would cost $75. YIKES!!! But then I found my saving grace-- replacement battery covers are sold for only $2.50 for a pack of 5. The catch? Only a library with an account can order them. So much for my plans to replace the battery cover, and never have to let Mr. J know that we've had another issue with library property.
His smile was downright starched when I turned it in and explained that the battery cover was lost. His look turned absolutely frosty when I explained that the library could order new battery covers for $2.50 but I couldn't. He put me off by saying that he would have to talk to the head, HEAD librarian about it. (Whoever that is. I thought it was Ms. A, but she was there and Mr. J never said a word to her-- at least while we were still there.)
He put the Playaway up on the shelf and I figured all was fine on my end. We checked out our books with no hold on our cards. But online yesterday I saw that he never checked it in and now it shows that I have The Hunger Games overdue by a week.
I'm not looking forward to the next trip to the library. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, too. But there's part of me that spent half the night stressing about this whole mess. I can't live without a library. But I don't know if I can keep going to this one. (Especially if they insist on me paying $75 for a book that only needs a 50 cent battery cover!!!!)
The challenges started when M was a baby. At first it was hard to keep a baby quiet long enough to browse. Then as a grabby toddler I tried wearing her in a backpack and she still pulled every book off the shelf she could reach. Once I had J it was worse. He saw the library as a colorful playground. I would take him and M into the children's library in Gallup, NM for story time and he would never stay seated for the story. He would be up and running off before the librarian could get three pages into the book. By the time I had B, things had gotten almost comically crazy. I only took my kids to the preschool story time at the tiny library in Sanders. Only one other child came to these story times, so I figured it would be easy enough to keep track of my kids even when I had two preschoolers and a baby. J still managed to knock an entire bookshelf over before I could stop him. Horribly embarrassing, but luckily the librarian had a sense of humor. "That's why I hold story hour when the library is closed to the general public," she said with a laugh.
Once we moved down to the valley, I continued to persevere with the library trips. Our nearest library was a good 20 minute drive from our house, but that was nothing compared to the one hour trip to go to Gallup. The library is small, but not as small as the one from Sanders, and they have a good lending program with the other libraries in our county.
We became such regulars that of course all the people who worked at the library got to know us. One of the head librarians (for such a small library this place has a lot of people who work there) seemed to especially appreciate us. (I'll call him Mr. J). Mr. J would pull out my hold requests without having to ask my name, recommend books and videos he thought I would personally like, and once even called to let me know that a couple of my books had gone overdue and renewed them for me over the phone (even though they have an automated phone system that makes reminder calls for overdue items). He was always quick to tell me about programs that would be going on that might interest my kids too.
All that has started to change. It began with the damaged books. See, my kids are not kind to books. Not even M, really. So over the course of the last six years, I've had to pay for damaged books more than once. I always let them know right at the desk when I bring the books in, and sometimes they can fix them no problem. Sometimes I have to replace the whole book. At first you could tell Mr. J appreciated my honesty in taking responsibility for this. But over time, he's gotten more gruff about it. (Terence is pretty fed up with it too, but that's a story for another day. . . .) Worse, K is moving into the challenging young boy stage, where he sees the library as a playground. This library (like many others nowadays) has a bunch of toys in the children's section, and the library is small enough that I usually leave K and S to play with the toys while I browse the YA section two rows over. But K learned that he could climb on top of the toys or the couch they have there and make his way onto the five foot wall that goes up along the ramp to the higher level of the building. From there he jumps down, races up the rest of the ramp, sprints through the computer alcove and comes pelting down the stairs.
As you can imagine, the librarians don't like this.
Not that I like it either, but I'm kind of resigned to redirecting K over and over until he gets about five years old. It took J at least that long.
But Mr. J's limit has been reached at last. Though he wasn't there the afternoon that K learned he could pull off this glorious feat, he tracked me down during my very next visit to the library. (Apparently, he had heard through the librarian grapevine about K's antics.) Then he told me how he "hates to say this" but K "may need a little more supervision." The ironic thing was that he was trying to have his tactful little lecture with me when I was frantically running around the library trying to figure out where K had gone. He had run into the library ahead of me and then I couldn't find him anywhere in the building. I was near panicking. I couldn't help thinking, "Yes, yes, Mr. J, I will happily watch my son more closely. But maybe instead of lecturing me you could get out of my way so I can find him first!!"
The final break in my friendly relations with Mr. J came last week. I had checked a Playaway version of The Hunger Games to listen to with Terence. A Playaway is like an mp3 player for one individual book. Before we'd even had a chance to listen to it, K had pulled it out of the library bag and out of its case. When I walked in I found the little player on the floor, its battery next to it, and the battery cover was nowhere to be found. I have my doubts that K could have gotten the battery cover off himself, so I've wondered if the player was already missing the cover before I checked it out. For four weeks I ransacked my house, even moving every piece of furniture in my living room.
It never turned up.
This was bad news-- online I found out that to replace this particular Playaway would cost $75. YIKES!!! But then I found my saving grace-- replacement battery covers are sold for only $2.50 for a pack of 5. The catch? Only a library with an account can order them. So much for my plans to replace the battery cover, and never have to let Mr. J know that we've had another issue with library property.
His smile was downright starched when I turned it in and explained that the battery cover was lost. His look turned absolutely frosty when I explained that the library could order new battery covers for $2.50 but I couldn't. He put me off by saying that he would have to talk to the head, HEAD librarian about it. (Whoever that is. I thought it was Ms. A, but she was there and Mr. J never said a word to her-- at least while we were still there.)
He put the Playaway up on the shelf and I figured all was fine on my end. We checked out our books with no hold on our cards. But online yesterday I saw that he never checked it in and now it shows that I have The Hunger Games overdue by a week.
I'm not looking forward to the next trip to the library. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, too. But there's part of me that spent half the night stressing about this whole mess. I can't live without a library. But I don't know if I can keep going to this one. (Especially if they insist on me paying $75 for a book that only needs a 50 cent battery cover!!!!)
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