little teachers: the priceless easter gypsy

Meet my little gypsy friend from Cairo:

I spent most of 2006 living in Cairo, Egypt with the non-profit I work for. I look back on that year as one of the best years of my life. Literally.

During the lead-up to Easter, I was amazed at how this Christian holiday was celebrated in this largely Muslim nation. (You may or may not know, but there are 12+ million Christians in Egypt - a small but significant minority.)

Outside of every church (especially the Coptic Orthodox churches) were people of all ages selling flowers, decorations, and other beautiful hand-made wares and gifts. People came out of the woodwork to collect woven baskets and crosses made of palm leaves. Everywhere you turned were bright flowers and smiling eyes preparing for the celebration of this significant religious holiday.

This little gypsy girl captured my imagination and a piece of my heart as I met her on Palm Sunday (the week before Easter). Her big eyes, her curly hair, her adorable freckles and crooked smile... the small trail of snot stretching from her nose to her naturally shiny, pink lips. She was just perfect, beautiful and perfect.

She was part of a gypsy family--a people often looked down on by other Egyptians--and yet even despite her initial shyness she met me with confidence, warmth, and joy in her eyes.

Precious gypsy princess showed me her woven treasures and reminded me that there are treasures within all of us - even those normally looked down on by other segments of society - and that every treasure is just that: exquisite, priceless, and beautiful.

Although we spoke different languages and exchanged no words beyond my fumbling hello, thank you, and goodbye in Arabic, I think of her every Easter season and remember that...

There are treasures all around me, 

if only I'm willing to open my eyes for them.

Dear friends, what life lessons have you learned from Little Teachers lately? Any that are specific to the Easter season?

treasure hunting,


p.s. This post is part of a series - All the Children of the World: Little Teachers - where I feature a photo of a precious little one that I've met during my volunteer work in developing nations over the last 11 years, as well as what I've learned about life and parenting through meeting them.

{Also linking in with the Community Writing Project on Mother Inferior.}

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Are you pregnant? Link up with the Bloggin' Babes and Babies of 2011.

Share your creativity and Easter inspiration by submitting your Easter card to our Easter card linky (closing April 21).

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011
do not reproduce without written permission

the sneaky cookie-stealers at mcdonalds

Approaching discipline issues with others’ children is a very sensitive issue. What would you have done in this situation?

{image source here}

It’s been raining constantly this week. Anyone knows that bad weather plus a stir-crazy toddler equals a potential disaster and an inevitable mommy meltdown.

So in order to avert said disaster and mommy meltdown, I decided to take Levi to McDonalds to change things up a bit. I would take my computer (free wifi), get a coffee at McCafe, and sit in the indoor kids area while Levi had some space to run around.

Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

When we first got into the kids room there were about five school-age kids running around, everyone playing happily and having a blast. It wasn’t long before the kids disappeared, leaving behind a box of food that Levi quickly discovered.

I went over to swipe it away from him (didn’t want any half-chewed-up mcnuggets finding their way into his little mouth) and saw that it was an unopened box of cookies. Score! I am a sucker for McDonald’s cookies – both the chocolate chip ones and the animal cookie(ish) ones. These were the animal cookie ones – a perfect snack for Levi and I to share.

Thinking about it for a brief moment, I decided to put them down and make sure the other kids weren’t just out for a bathroom break or something. “If these are still here after a little while we can share them,” I said to Levi (but more to myself than him).

I have to admit, the thought of free cookies did excite me a little, but of course I didn’t want to steal from unsuspecting children who may get to the car and realize they left their precious cookies behind.

A few minutes later some older kids came in; they must have been about nine and eleven years old. Immediately they also discovered the cookies and the younger brother picked them up.

“Are those yours?” I asked, knowing full well that they were not.

“No, they’re not his,” the older sister said.

“Well then put them down please.” I replied.

“But those kids left,” the boy protested.

“How do you know they won’t come back to get them?” I continued. “Please put them back where you found them.”

The boy put them down.

For the next several minutes the kids lurked on the stairs near the forgotten cookies. I could see them out of the corner of my eye, looking for an opening. I glanced up frequently from my computer, curious as to what they would do but also keeping an eye on my 14-month-old.

They knew full well that I was watching them. They also knew full well that I wasn’t their mother.

Sure enough after a few minutes I noticed that the two were no longer hovering over those coveted cookies. They had disappeared into the play structure along with the coveted box.

Yes, I was irritated. Not just because I couldn’t have my cookies (heck, I could always just go and buy some for us – that wasn’t a big deal), but because I told them not to pick them up and they snuck around and defiantly took them anyway.

I sat there thinking about what to do while the kids watched from within the structure to see if I noticed.  My former childcare worker/preschool teacher self was coming out and I wanted to set these kids straight. However I also knew that I have no business disciplining someone else’s kids at McDonalds. (By the way I was the only parent in the play area – these kids were plenty old enough to play unsupervised and their parents were nowhere to be seen.)

After several minutes of deliberations, I decided to give them a short “pep talk” and maybe lay on a little healthy guilt.

As I walked toward the structure I could hear alarmed whispers, frantic shuffles, and crinkling cellophane.

I peered around the corner and they looked at me with wide-eyes, no doubt wondering what their fate was.

“I know you guys took those cookies”, I said in a calm, respectful tone. “Didn’t I tell you when you first came in that they didn’t belong to you? And then you snuck around and took them anyway when I wasn’t looking. I know I’m not your mom, but I’m still an adult and you should know better than sneaking around like that to do something you know you shouldn’t. Anyway, I just think that next time you should think about it a little more before you sneak around taking other peoples stuff.”

Then I went back to my place on the floor and left it at that.

I found this hard because: 1) I had no authority to discipline these kids (just as I wouldn’t want a stranger disciplining mine); 2) I believed these kids were old enough to make good decisions and the fact that they were sneaking around just proved that to me; 3) My parent/teacher instincts wanted to help them learn self control and integrity; 4) Let’s face it, I had already mentally staked a claim to those forgotten cookies.

Dear friends, what do you think? Was I sticking my nose where it didn’t belong? Would you have spoken to these kids initially about the cookies? Or again after they took them? Would you have left it as-is? Maybe you would have just eaten the cookies in the first place, or left them for the next person without noticing or caring. And what do you think in general – should you call out kids when they blatantly misbehave if their parents aren’t there to do it themselves? Or should you just ignore it as long as it doesn’t effect your own child? I generally think it’s not my business unless it is harming another child or affecting mine in a way I don’t approve of… but this little scenario just pushed a button since they so defiantly and sneakily disregarded my straight-forward instruction (which I felt was a completely reasonable instruction in the first place). What do you think?? Feel free to agree or disagree with me, as long as you do it respectfully. :)

still cookie-less and kinda sad about it,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011
do not reproduce without written permission

do you know about the magic?

Change of plans.

Yesterday I promised that today would be part two of my Tackling Tantrums series… but then I read Kelle Hampton’s post this morning about World Down Syndrome Day and knew that a slight detour was in order.

Tantrums will just have to wait. Until tomorrow.

I started following Kelle’s journey soon after I started blogging last May, which also happened to be soon after I became a mother.

Kelle and I are similar in age. Our babies (her Nella and my Levi) are also very close in age. She lives in Florida. I live in Australia. She wears red cowboy boots. I wear black flip-flops. Perhaps beyond being close in age and both being mothers we don’t have much in common at a glance… and yet as many of her readers would probably attest to, I feel close to this woman who dares to bare her heart on a page and share her treasured family with the world.

Through reading her posts and pouring over her delicious photos I’ve been able to absorb some of her life experience… and it’s truly made me a better person. And when I say better, I mean more aware, more open, more empathetic, and more willing to do my best to try and look at life—and the small things—from a different perspective.

This woman inspires me.

But it’s her little girls who have captured me.

Nella, the youngest of the two, is one of the special ones with the “magic chromosome.” Nella has Down Syndrome... And I have fallen in love with her.

{image by kelle hampton}

Before reading Kelle’s blog, I hadn’t thought much about Down Syndrome. I also hadn’t thought much about the possibility of one of my children being born with Down Syndrome… or any disease for that matter.

Any mother knows that it’s a possibility, but like most, when those thoughts would drift into my mind from time to time I was always quick to dismiss them and be deliberate about “thinking positive.”

But I’ve redefined what it means to “think positive” in this case.

Thinking positive in this context is remembering that any child, no matter how many chromosomes they are born with (or other difficulties for that matter), is still a beautiful and precious individual so worthy of loving and cherishing, honoring and admiring.

This line of thinking isn’t exactly new for me. I’ve always believed that life is sacred and precious... and that it’s easiest to see within the purity of children. But it has forced me to think about this truth within the stark reality of hearing those dreaded words: “I'm sorry, but your child has… fillintheblankhere.”

I write this as a pregnant woman fully aware that the child I carry within me is yet to be known. But this child that I still know so little about is already deeply loved. No matter how the labor and delivery goes, no matter what gender s/he turns out to be, no matter her personality or wit or capacity to comprehend, no matter which side of the family he comes out looking like, no matter her abilities, no matter his strengths or her weaknesses, and no matter the number of chromosomes.

I would not be one of the 92% of women who abort when they discover they are carrying a child with the “magic chromosome”… but I am also not the woman to judge that woman. We all carry our own difficulties, our own fears, our own insecurities, our own worldviews. But today, on World Down Syndrome Day, I want to leave you with some of Kelle’s words, because I cannot say it better:

“Mostly, the parent of a child with Down syndrome—or autism or Turner’s syndrome or Prader Willi syndrome or, for that matter, no syndrome at all—wants the world to accept their child. To love them, praise them, high five them on the soccer field, compliment their awesome sneakers, invite them to birthday parties, ask them questions and really listen when they reply, pick them for playdates, help them when they’re struggling, teach them when they need it and recognize all the good they have to give the world.”

{image by kelle hampton}

Kelle urges us, not just as mothers, but as individuals who carry the ability to influence in the everyday, to “Pay attention to the person, the child, the soul—not the wheelchair, the chromosome, the difference. Allow yourself to be astonished—to learn something new from someone, to be inspired, to laugh, to enjoy a moment. And then pass it on. Spread your awareness message by the way you live, the way you speak and the way you treat people.”

Dear friends, this is just my one little way to bring light to an issue that touches millions of people the world over. I desperately want to be the kind of mother who teaches my children how to love and accept others through both my instruction and—more importantly—my example. How will you use your ability to influence in the every day to make someone’s life just a little bit better today? How well are you paying attention to the person??

inspired by the magic,

p.s. World Down Syndrome Day is March 21... but this was posted on the 22nd in Australia. Oh time change, you still sometimes confuse me!

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011
do not reproduce without written permission

i, too, have a dream

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. –Martin Luther King, Jr.

{while living for a short time in fiji with my parents. 1980.}

I was lucky to spend part of my early childhood in Fiji and other parts of Australasia, but largely I grew up in a very “white” town in small town America.

Although my hometown has changed and grown over the years to include a large Hispanic population as well as growing communities of Polynesians, Africans, Arabs, Asians, and other nationalities, it hasn’t been until the last fifteen years that you could even find any “ethnic” food beyond Mexican or Chinese, much less people that come from those parts of the world. (Thank God there are now many restaurants serving Thai, Indian, Japanese, Lebanese, etc. and the dear people that bring those foods with them.)

But largely my hometown was (and is) “white”. In fact, there was only one person in my entire middle school that did not have Caucasian decent. (Keep in mind this is twenty+ years ago now.)

And yet, even as a little girl I went through a phase where I dreamt of being a “black lady” when I grew up. From the depths of my soul I desperately wanted to be able to sing “Amazing Grace” like the African-American gospel choirs I’d see on television and in the movies. I thought surely it’s impossible without that beautiful, dark skin and curly black hair.

Naïve, I know.

And although I didn’t hold a negative stereo-type of African-American women, it was a stereo-type nonetheless.

We all hold stereo-types, whether we are aware of it or not.

Some of them may be racially driven. Others might have to do with an area geographically (ie: New Yorkers are rude, Southerners are polite, Californians are superficial). Still others have to do with economics, careers, social standing (ie: rich people are snobs, poor people don’t keep house well, librarians are quiet and shy). I could go on and on listing examples of how we all have stereo-types tucked away, hidden within our worldview.

As an American living abroad, I’m faced with these all the time (ie: Americans are loud, pushy, egocentric, and obese).

So here I am—an American in Australia—thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr. (a great man for which this nation doesn’t stop to recognize in terms of a holiday at least) and I wonder to myself, would he be pleased by what he sees today in our society?

In America we have our first African-American president. 

In Australia we have our first woman Prime Minister.

Those two offices alone prove that we’ve come a long way, baby. Amazing.

And yet I sometimes think that since we’ve “arrived” at this place… we run the risk of being satisfied… and growing complacent… and staying there.

Certainly there is still a long way to go.

With the rise of countless celebrities, athletes, and political figures of racial backgrounds other than “white”, we can say that progress is being made. (This is a good thing. This is a wonderful thing!) But my heart still breaks for those who’ve not yet made the spotlight. Or even worse, maybe they have… but only in a negative light.

What about the Hispanic? What about the Arabs? What about the Chinese? The Koreans? What about…

And then the question must be pointed back at myself.

What am I doing to help my son (and future children) grow up in an environment where they learn to embrace people from all walks of life… racial and otherwise?

This is such a challenging topic, and I certainly don’t presume to have all the answers, but as a parent I want to be deliberate about instilling the values of MLK Jr. into my children.

I have some ideas about how to help facilitate that (maybe the subject of a future post) and yet I know that the two most important things I can do to help my children learn to embrace people different than themselves are:

1) To lead by example. Every parent knows instinctively that young children easily adopt our attitudes, behaviors, etc. The question is, are we deliberate in how we lead as we set their foundations in place?

2) To give them exposure to lifestyles, cultures, and people who are different from us. I believe this should be a combination of “real life” exposure to friends, cultures, etc. as well as through things like story books, purposeful toys, etc.

My desire is the same as Dr. King’s – to see my children grow up in a world that gives opportunity and reward and accolade based on character… not on the “color of their skin” or a million other things that his phrase can represent.

I’m keenly aware that I have to help create that world.

I’m also keenly aware that I must include my children in the process, because they are the ones who will be running things soon. They are the ones who need to know how to treat others before they can expect to be treated with fairness, dignity, kindness, respect, and most of all love.

Dear friends, does this concept that MLK helped push to the forefront of American thinking impact your parenting? How?

doing my best to be deliberate,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission