With the final installment of the Harry Potter film series opening this weekend I felt it only fitting to devote a post to this literary, cinematic, and pop culture phenomena. My kids grew up with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and in a lot of ways, so did the Countess.
On my daughters second birthday my son entered our lives. The ensuing years were a blur of house hunting, relocating, working, not working, starting a business, and getting a home in order. For the first time the Count and I were in separate camps, I as Mom and homemaker on Long Island, he as Dad and provider. I was completely out of my comfort zone and often I longed to return to the career I loved. I could generate millions in revenue but I couldn't keep the bathroom tidy, pick out a window treatment, or get my six year-old daughter to crack a smile. The doubt creeped in.
One of the few places I found sure footing was in stories and story telling. Much of my anxieties about the enormous responsibility of raising two children temporarily vanished in the voices and rhythms of the countless stories the three of us read together. Every night as I cleaned up dinner I'd hear them splashing around in the tub, then Dad's voice ordering them to dry off and brush their teeth. I'd wrap up whatever I was doing, knowing that two little voices chanting, "stories, stories, stories" was moments away. Each night I would open a new book and read, eliciting gasps, laughter, and the magical questions that children always ask, and to which I magically seemed to have the answers.
In August of 2009 the we began reading
Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone, and shortly after the Kingdom was rocked by the discovery of a tumor in my son's spinal column. I suddenly found myself reading aloud in hospital beds, or while seated next to an MRI machine. As terrifying as real life had become, we could all still take refuge in the simple pleasure of story time and melt into the magical world of Ms. Rowlings creation. One by one, we read through every book in the series. For long car rides we discovered the brilliantly done Harry Potter audiobook series, magnificently read by Jim Dale. Trips to Cape Cod or the annual ski trip were now memorable not just for what we did when we got there, but which book we listened to en route.
The joy that this series brought to my children and I impacted my parenting tremendously. In Ms. Rowling's boundless imagination I discovered something that I could give my kids that was cooler than anything I could buy them in a store - myself. I sing, dance, tell jokes, bake cookies, play board games, whip up favorite meals, play catch, bandage wounds and help with homework. I don't need batteries, a warranty, and I rarely need an upgrade. Even if a piece of me is broken, I still work. I run on hugs and smiles and can be recharged with a "please", "thank you" or "I love you".
I'm not a perfect Mom by any means, but I feel like I'm on the right track. A sure sign of this can be found in my daughters plans for opening night of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. She didn't even bother asking if we would attend since Dad and Son are away and it was a given that we would all go together. She didn't ask to go to the mall, out to dinner, or beg to invite four girlfriends to sleep over.
"Mom can we just hang out and play board games?"
Her wish was granted, no magic wands necessary.