our hunch was right

We're having another...

What an awesome privilege to raise boys in a world that needs a few more good men! And... I'll still be able to sign our family letters "love Adriel & the boys" which I've grown quite fond of. Bonus.

We're so excited to think about the bond of brothers and how much fun they will have together. No doubt they will keep me busy (and in the kitchen!), but I am genuinely glad to be welcoming another little dude into the family and let his tiny heart invade mine own. Levi has made me fall in love with little boys in a way that I never thought possible. And of course Ryan is thrilled to have another member of the soccer team. Or basketball team. Or football team. Whatever. (Joke, people! They can join the ballet for all we care.)

Now it's onto the challenge of thinking of boy names, which we find much harder than girls names!

Baby is 19 weeks along and we look forward to my doctors appointment next week to hear all of the results of the scan. Can't believe this pregnancy is nearly half finished already! Yikes. It is flying by.

We love our baby boy Booker and thank God for his precious life.

Dear friends, that's all from me today. Just wanted to share our wonderful news! Do you have any advice for being a mom to boys?? And in celebration of one year of the Memos (and boys all around!) make sure to check out my pregnancy and baby-related giveaways below.

love, adriel & the boys xx

Yay! YOU get presents in honor of 

MY birthday! How fun is that??

Enter to win The Pregnancy Companion. 

Win it for yourself or to give as a gift to an expecting friend.

Just leave a comment here. Giveaway closes May 15, 2011.

Enter to win a Peekabooby nursing cover!

Leave a comment here. Giveaway ends May 20, 2011.

Are you an expecting mama? Link up with the 

Bloggin' Babes and Babies of 2011 here.

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

going at it alone

Since becoming a mom, I have never had more respect or admiration for single moms and military wives. How these women manage to parent their children, run their households, earn a reasonable income (especially in the case of single moms), and maintain their sanity and well-being without the support of a loving husband is beyond me.

I'm completely baffled.

Obviously, the grace is there. Obviously there is a strength in women that lurks below the sometimes seemingly vulnerable surface. And obviously we are capable of far more than we often give ourselves credit for.

That being said--as much as I admire and respect these women who are going at it alone (all or most of the time)--I never want to join their ranks.

Being a mom on your own is hard. H.A.R.D.

despite missing ryan, levi and i had a
lovely easter together with friends

I've just passed the half-way mark of Ryan being away for nearly a month. I was glad to see him board a plane to Papua New Guinea where he would join teams of volunteer medical and aid workers on our organization's Medical Ship. Knowing that he's helping bring services and education to those who need it most is wonderful and satisfying. I whole-heartedly believe that it's a privilege to be able to serve others in this way, and if it weren't for the malaria risks associated with pregnancy (potential miscarriage or stillbirth to unborn babies), Levi and I would be right there along with him.

So yes, we are glad--and proud--to have Ryan away representing our family like this.

But I'd be joking if I said that having my husband sail up rivers into remote areas and villages of PNG is all fun and games. It's not.

Not for him... or for me.

To serve is always a sacrifice which must be weighed. It looks different for those who are going as well as those who are left behind. And for us, the sacrifices associated with this outreach are worth it.

photo source: ywam medical ship

But the fact remains that it's hard going at it alone.

Levi and I are doing fine. Of course we miss Ryan terribly--our incredibly kind-hearted husband and hands-on dad--but we will see him soon enough.

In the meantime, I'm seeing how tough I am and how resourceful I can be. I'm having a small taste of a new kind of perseverance and learning a tiny bit about life for the women who are my heros:

Single moms and military wives.

Seriously, these women should all be given medals.

Being a mom is an incredible joy and honor that I would wish for anyone who desires to be one. But it's also a tough gig in the best of times. And it's even tougher when your support system is stripped back to the minimum.

Recently a friend of mine asked me why I thought it was such a big deal to have my husband gone for a month. "What's so hard about it?" she earnestly asked me.

I almost fell off my chair. (Especially considering she is a mom herself.)

I guess we each have different standards and measuring sticks to determine what is difficult and what is not... and I'm ok with that. No need to get into comparisons. But let's just say I have a million answers to that question. In fact, I'd be tempted to ask the question in return: "What's not hard about having my husband away for so long?!"

But I knew she meant well and was just trying to lend a listening ear.

Like I said, Levi and I (and bubs) are doing well. (I can certainly feel the grace factor!) But that doesn't mean we aren't counting down the days until our family is reunited.

In the meantime, single moms and military wives - I salute you! You are amazing and your children should be so proud of you. (Same goes for single dads and military husbands.)

Dear friends, have you ever had a time where you've been a mom going at it alone? Maybe for a long time or maybe just for a "short" time like me? What did you find the hardest and how did you cope?

glad to usually not be alone,


P.S. Do you have any friends who are single moms or military wives? When is the last time you offered some form of support to them or told them how much you admire all they do for their families?

Are you an expecting mom? Have you linked-up yet?

Join the Bloggin' Babes and Babies of 2011.

{"Easter" with Casey}

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

enough is enough

How do you make room in your life for baby number two?

As much as I feel my heart is big enough for another child, I sometimes feel as if my head is not. (Not to mention my energy supply.)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about our new baby and how carrying her* is so much different to carrying our first.

{24 weeks pregnant with baby #1}

When I was pregnant with Levi, so much of my little internal world revolved around thoughts of him, thoughts of impending motherhood, thoughts of how our world was turning upside-down.

And yet with the new baby it is so different. So much of my headspace is already taken up with thoughts of how to care for Levi: How can I get him to eat his veggies? Is it possible to make him sleep in a little longer in the mornings? (9:00am would be good *wink*.) When should I start potty training him or moving him from a crib to a bed? How do I discipline well and how do I keep my cool when he’s having a tantrum? How will I take care of him while meeting the demands of a newborn?

So many thoughts and questions… and so often pointing back to him.

And then I feel guilty. Guilty that I think of him far more than I think of my new baby. Or, more accurately, that I don't think of my new baby the same way I thought of Levi throughout my first pregnancy.

I feel like perhaps I should be more aware of my pregnancy… more in tune with my growing baby… more something.

And yet I know that baby is tucked up in my womb receiving everything from me that he* needs, and at the same time God is forming and fashioning him to be the person who he is and will be. It’s all happening just right, just perfectly, despite where my headspace is during the whole process.

I know there will come a time when she* is my arms and I will struggle with guilt in the same way related to Levi. I will be breastfeeding her around the clock, changing her diapers a thousand times more than Levi’s, ooo-ing over her little infant milestones like her first smile, holding her head up, and rolling over… while Levi, no doubt, will be vying for some of his old attention back.

It will be a tension to work out then, but it is not one to worry about now.

And I guess parenting is like that. Being a mom is like that.

There will always be a tension between all that I desire to do and the reality of what I actually can do.

I will never think of my babies enough, pray for them enough, nurture them enough, train and teach and coach them enough, listen to them enough, spend time with them enough.

But this I know – I will always love them enough. My love will be as deep and as wide as is humanly possible from a dedicated—yet imperfect—parent. And where I fall short there will be others there to fill in the gaps: their daddy, extended family, dear friends, even God himself.

And that is what gives me comfort when I have those “I will never be enough” thoughts.

Because the amount of my headspace taken up by thoughts of my new baby is no indication of how I feel about him*. As simplistic as it sounds, it really is just a casualty of a very busy, very emotionally and physically draining, and very intense (yet still precious and fun!) season of life that I'm already in as a new(ish) mom of a toddler.

My new baby is loved, incredibly loved, and that—combined with my commitment to parent to the best of my ability—is enough.

Dear friends, do you ever feel like your ‘enough’ isn’t enough? If so, what do you do to tame the negative, guilt-ridden thoughts running through your mind?

loving my babies, parenting as best i can, and believing it's enough,

*Since I don't yet know the gender of baby #2 (and since I don't like to call him/her "it") I have alternated between masculine and feminine pronouns by paragraph. Hopefully it's not too confusing.

Are you an expecting mom? Have you linked-up yet?

Join the Bloggin' Babes and Babies of 2011.

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

making the moments count

It was going to be our last weekend together for a month.

How would I make it count? How would I slow down enough to savor it when there were bills to be paid, banking to be done, paperwork to wade through, suitcases to be packed, and a million things to be checked off The List?

But we did. Make it count, that is.

a day off on magnetic island.

We are still reclaiming Sundays.

Last weekend, our Sunday was on Friday.

Knowing that my boys would soon be separated for far too long, I relished the moments they played together in the sand, sat together in the shade of our beach tent, walked along the shoreline, swam in the shallow, and whispered nonsense under their breath.

I sat in amazement watching my littlest drink milk from a box - such a small thing and yet such a marker of toddlerhood.

{Sippy no longer required.}

pretty impressed with himself... and life in general.

I watched as my husband teased him and tickled him, trying to distract him from one of his favorite times of the day - snack time.

Little moments, regular moments... precious moments.

i can't get enough of watching these two together.

It's good to have good-byes every now and then. They help bring your priorities into alignment and gently pressure you to make your moments count.

Our "Sunday" gave way to Saturday - a bustling day filled with an early Easter egg hunt and a backyard full of friends, lots of to-do's and packing completed, and then a nice night out with my beloved before I (temporarily) lost him to an airplane headed to another nation.

first father-son easter egg hunt. presh.

I'm grateful for the time we have. It never feels like enough... but it is. It's enough. What we're given is always enough... as long as we make it count.

the closest thing we're going to get to a family easter picture this year... and as you can tell,
levi is a far cry from being a poser. camera on = instantly disinterested... but still as gorgeous as always.

Dear friends, how have you made your precious time count this week?


making the moments count,

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).

This post is part of my Reclaiming Sundays project - an intentional effort to carve out family time every week to rest, refresh, breathe, laugh, relax, enjoy... Please feel free to join me if you'd like.

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

hey little cowboy, i would lasso the moon for you

Lasso the Moon Written for By Billy Simon and Lowell Alexander (for Art Garfunkle)

If I were a carpenter


I'd build a world of love


Where we would always be together

If I were the captain

Of
 a ship of happiness


I'd sail away with you forever

Close your eyes


And know you are safe with me

If I had a lariat


Made of dreams come true


I would lasso the moon for you

If I were a rocketeer


I'd scale the universe


To bring your heart a star each 
morning

If I were an angel 

In 
Heaven's Holy host


I'd sing to you a verse of glory

Close your eyes


And know you are safe with me

If I had a lariat


Made of dreams come true


I would lasso the moon for you.

Art Garfunkle | Songs From A Parent To A Child Album |
 1997 | Sony Wonder Entertainment

love,

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).

Linking in with Faith... for "Two".

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

little teachers: toddlers in tiaras and afro babies

I met this gorgeous little girl when I was on an outreach in the Solomon Islands several years ago. It was my first time in the nation and I had a lot to learn about the people and the culture.

Although the expression I captured makes her look like a sad little girl, she wasn't. She was simply lovely and it didn't take much for my heart to melt as she charmed me.

I was so captured by her beauty - those deep brown eyes and her perfect little features.

But I couldn't believe she had blonde hair. I thought to myself, "What kind of a parent living in an incredibly poor village spends money on bleaching the hair of such a young child?" It made me angry to think that these little ones had such limited access to health care and education and basic necessities and yet someone deemed it appropriate to spend money on bleaching her beautiful little fro.

Besides, didn't they know she was already perfect? Perfect "as-is"?

What I didn't know then is that her hair was naturally blonde and that many children and adults from her people group are born with dark skin and blonde hair. It really is stunning and I had never seen anything like it before.

When I found out the truth I was so convicted of being judgmental. Here I was, a guest in this nation, jumping to conclusions about someone else's parenting based solely on the appearance of their child.

Shame on me.

Admittedly it's hard not to do this when I come from a culture that has "toddlers in tiaras" and other questionable practices like that. I look at preschool-aged girls with full make-up and clothing that is sexy-beyond-their-years and I automatically form opinions about what their mothers are like. (Not saying that it's right of me to do so... just that it's extremely hard not to in these types of scenarios.)

In the case of this sort of childhood pageantry, my view of the parents is almost automatically formed by looking at the child.

But it just doesn't translate cross-culturally. This beautiful little blonde girl taught me a lesson: don't assume, don't judge, don't jump to conclusions.

It's the age old antic - don't judge a book by it's cover.

I'm thankful for this little teacher and the lesson she taught me by accident. I try to remember her when I see children from other cultures (even in my own home town) that dress or act in ways I don't understand.

Children need our respect, our love, our kindness, and our acceptance no matter how similar or different they are to our own. And yes, even toddlers in tiaras. They are children too - precious and infinitely valuable, regardless of the decisions their parents make for them. They deserve nothing less.

And as much as I love children, I'm determined to be less judgmental toward their parents too. I want to discover their stories, what motivates them, why they make the decisions they do. Parents - all parents - need the support of other parents.

Children, parents, all people... Every man, woman, and child deserves our best effort at suspending judgement and valuing them for who they are.

Dear friends, have you caught yourself making judgements about other parents by something that you see in their child but haven't yet taken the time to try and understand? (Or can you think of a situation where you deliberately made a choice to NOT judge a book by it's cover?) What have the children in your life taught you lately?

humbled,


p.s. This post is part of a new 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, as well as what I learned about life and parenting through meeting them.

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

unearthing joy with a garden hose, a kiddie pool, and a rusty old swing set

Do you ever have those moments where you feel like you're catching a glimpse of your life on a movie and you think to yourself "Wow, I really am a grown-up now!" or even just a simple "Oh my gosh, I'm a MOM and this is my family!"?

I had one of those moments the other day as we were Reclaiming Sunday.

It was a rare day of sunshine and blue skies smack dab in the middle of monsoon season and to maximize it we decided that instead of going out to a park or the beach we would slather on sunscreen, gather up our beach towels, and head out our back door.

Oh, it was glorious.

We pulled out the small, brittle plastic wading pool that we got from Freecycle and let Levi fill it with cool hose water. Ryan put up our "new" swing set (another Freecycle score) and attached the shiny, new toddler swing that Levi got for his birthday. Buckets and shovels and balls scattered across the surface of the yard. I reclined in a lounge chair under the frangipani tree eating grapes and feeling like the luckiest woman on the planet. Levi ran loose, buzzing between the pool and the swing set, the dirt patch and my lounge chair. Friends dropped in and stayed for a cool drink and to watch the unfolding show as Levi learned how the hose worked and stumbled gleefully through the sprinkler. Ryan got his BBQ groove on.

We laughed. We relished. We relaxed. We soaked it all in.

Yes, it was glorious. One of those days that is so simple, so unpretentious, so "normal", and so perfect.

One of those days that goes down in my little mental record book titled "Best Days Ever".

We got to the end of it wishing we could rewind and do it all again.

Not every day off is so Norman Rockwell - our lives are not perfect - and yet it's days like these that somehow make their way into shaping both ideals and memories of what family time is all about. It's days like these that prove how easy it is to find joy in the simple things... if only you take the time to slow down and look for it.

Dear friends, what are you doing to create some family time or good memories this week? What are you doing to unearth some joy in your life?

for the love of a sprinkler,

This post is part of my Reclaiming Sundays project - an intentional effort to carve out family time every week to rest, refresh, breathe, enjoy, laugh, relax... 

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011

do not reproduce without written permission

i want one of these

So... lately I've been obsessing over this photo that we have on our fridge:

I can sometimes be found with a milk jug in one hand, the open fridge door in the other, gawking at this glorious photo while time stands still.

I look at that little bundle of heaven I had in my arms and can't believe that my spunky, hilarious, strong, independent, quick, sweet, talkative, constantly-on-the-go toddler easily fit within the length of my forearm not that long ago.

I just want another one of those.

If I wasn't already pregnant I'd be trying to be.

Cuz I just want another one of those. Oh wait, I already said that.

I want to hold an itty-bitty, teeny-tiny child and know that s/he's mine to love, and laugh with, and learn from... as long as I have breath.

Lucky for me that in 27 weeks I get to do it all over again.

Those beautiful expressions on our faces - Enthralled Mama and Proud Papa? They will make another grand entrance.

Yup, 27ish more weeks.

I can't wait.

Take your time sweet baby. Although I can't wait... this mama can wait. Grow well. Grow strong. Grow healthy. This is the only time we'll ever have together when I don't have to share you with the world.

excited is an understatement,

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

i wanna be a rockstar when i grow up

"When you were a little girl, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

This is one of my favorite questions to ask people when I first meet them. As fun and whimsical as it is as an icebreaker, it can also tell you so much about a person. Because as children, we were free to dream without someone telling us we’re being silly or illogical or unrealistic. As children we weren’t worried about the schooling involved, the required qualifications, the upfront expenses, or what the paycheck would be later on.

Heck, we weren’t even worried about being talented enough. Because, you know, it was before all those dreaded insecurities sneakily made their way into our beings.

We lived by the slogans of the US Army and Nike: Be All That You Can Be and Just Do It.

And then—usually somewhere around high school, or perhaps even middle school—someone “talks some sense” into us. And all of a sudden we no longer want to be a ferris wheel operator or a ballet dancer… we want to be a real estate broker. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being a broker… but it sure doesn’t sound as fun or as romantic as being a rodeo cowgirl, now does it?)

Just as most kids do, I had my fair share of fleeting career aspirations, which largely stemmed from watching too many movies and TV shows. I wanted to be: a nanny with superpowers (Mary Poppins), a fighter pilot (Top Gun), an astronaut (Space Camp), a BMXer (RAD), an attorney (Perry Mason), a doctor (The Cosby Show), a detective (Murder She Wrote), or a princess (you-name-it-Disney-movie).

But I also had a few longer-lasting career ambitions as a child:

The Mommy.

The appeal: Moms fix boo-boos, kiss babies, decorate the house, and choose the menu.   All things I couldn’t wait to be in charge of. (Apparently I didn’t notice the chores, the errands, the actual cooking of the menu, and the sleepless nights.)

The Rock Star.

The appeal: Rock stars are loud, bold, dramatic, wear cool clothes, star in awesome music videos, and can make large groupings of people sing along with them whenever they want to. (I’m still waiting for my lucky break into the music biz.)

The Broadway Star.

The appeal: Broadway stars sing, dance, take on other personas, wear pretty costumes, and get the boy. Oh, and they have flowers thrown at them every time they perform well. (Too bad my six-year-old self dropped out of ballet because they wouldn’t let me dance. But who could blame me? They just kept making me stand there {gasp} and called it fifth position or something. Borrr-ing.)

The Pediatrician.

The appeal: Pediatricians help mommies with their babies, give advice about caring for children, and help make kids and families feel better. (The bajillion years of necessary schooling eventually turned me off from this one.)

The President.

The appeal: The President works for justice, establishes laws, serves people for their common good, creates a better life through education and health care, forges new territory, and makes friends with other nations. (As a child I never thought about being in charge of things like the economy or war… Being President doesn’t look nearly as glamorous to me as it used to.)

So that’s my short list – the five careers I “seriously” considered between the ages of three and… thirteen.

Fast forward to fifteen years since leaving high school, and I’ve now had the opportunity to be a number of things: a preschool worker, a janitor, a bartender, a waitress, a popcorn server at the movies, a customer service rep at a bank, a tele-surveyor, a secretary, a public relations exec for a local government branch, a Bible teacher, a self employed minister, and a full-time volunteer for a non-profit.

Not one of those fit into my top five childhood career ambitions… until January.

In January I became a mom.

Maybe I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up…

Or maybe I do.

As a mom I fix boo-boos, kiss babies, decorate the house, and choose the menu. I’m sometimes loud, usually bold, often dramatic, star in all sorts of (G-rated) family home videos, and try to wear cool clothes. I definitely like to make others sing along, and I’m constantly making up songs and dancing for—and with—my baby. I take on other personas (during story time). I wear pretty costumes and I got the boy (who often throws flowers at me *blush*). I try to help other mommies with their babies. I sometimes share tips about caring for the children. And I do my best to help make kids and families feel better. I work for justice, establish laws, serve people, create a better life through education and health care, and forge new territory… in our home and in the little world we live in.

Yes. I am… a mom.

And us moms? I’m pretty sure we do it all.

We work dang hard, both at home and beyond… sometimes with lots of pay and recognition, and often with very little.

We put in long-hours. We work through our lunch breaks. We rarely get a sick day or a “mental health” day. We continue working right through our vacations. And we never, ever sign off at 5:00pm.

But we do it knowing that the future is curled up on our laps and drooling all over our clothes. We do it knowing it’s a future worth working hard for.

It’s good to be a mom.

And you?

Dear friends, as a child, what did you want to be “when you grew up”?   How can you see your childhood fantasies being worked out in your life now?  Do you recognize your dreams taking another form?  What is one thing that you need to do that you always dreamed of doing?

dreaming of my packed out stadium,


{This post was originally published as a guest post on Nirvana Mamma on September 11, 2011}

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