by Nan Keltie

Created on: May 22, 2008   Last Updated: May 08, 2012

For four glorious hours, I will have perfect peace! No chattering children and no dirty diapers to deal with. No one at my elbow asking for another drink or if they can go outside on a cold, wet day. Today is all mine! I smile and wiggle my toes, then slip out of bed and get dressed.

While volunteering in a basement sale room may not be high up on other moms' list, it's a big deal for me. I happen to love books. I also love meeting other adults and having meaningful conversations - without being interrupted ten times to wipe runny noses or settle sibling squabbles.

I grab the phone when it rings.  It's Jana, the kids' favorite babysitter, tell me she's on the way to the emergency room.  Her husband has cut his arm and needs stitches. Can I find another babysitter? I haven't got the heart to tell her she was my last resort. Promising to pray for them, I hang up and head for the kitchen.

"That was Mrs. Jana," I explain. "She can't keep you today, so you'll be going with me to the Booke Nooke."

"Oh, goodie!" Melissa grins around her cereal spoon. She loves books as much as her mom does.

"Oh, doodie!" echoes eighteen-month-old Kevin from his high chair.

My four-year-old cowboy Jason growls, "Let's get outta here, dudes!"

Volunteers at the Ashland Public Library are supposed to arrive early, but the door is locked. When I tap on the window, a worker looks up and mouths at me, "We don't open until 9:00." I mouth right back, "I'm the Booke Nooke volunteer."

Raising one eyebrow, she looks us over and disappears.

"Why can't we go in?" Jason grumps. It's wet and cold on the sidewalk.

Just then a silver-haired lady crosses the carpet, unlocks the door and states, "You're the volunteer? And these are ... your children?"

I'm tempted to say, "No, m'am. I found them playing in the street and thought I'd bring them by to pull all the books off your shelves." Instead, I explain my babysitting dilemma and the urgent need to get downstairs before sale seekers arrive.

"We've gotta hurry," my daughter prods.

She sniffs and hands me the key to the Booke Nooke. Even with riding the elevator, I will be hard pressed to get downstairs, unlock the sale room, get three children settled, open the cash drawer, arrange the latest donations on shelves and - catch my breath.

My daughter tries to help by stopping our first customer at the doorway. "We aren't ready yet. Can you wait in the hall?"

He smiles sympathetically when I apologize. The man should be wearing a best-first-customer

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