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

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

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

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

reclaiming sundays... with beans and a side of enchilada

Our last couple of Sundays have been rainy. Not just the skies-are-gray-things-are-a-bit-wet type of rainy... but more of an I-just-might-drown-trying-to-get-from-my-house-to-my-car type of rainy.

Relentless pounding tropical downpour.

Although Oregon is thought of as a state that is constantly wet, I'm from a very dry area in central Oregon, where we typically get 6-12 inches of rain per year. I don't even remember owning a raincoat or umbrella for most of my life.

And then I moved to the tropics.

Here during the wet season we can easily get my hometown's entire annual rainfall in a single afternoon. {I am soooo not exaggerating.}

Sunday was one of those days.

But, regardless of the elements being pitted against us, we had already decided that we were going out to celebrate Ryan's birthday at a local wanna-be-Mexican restaurant (the closest the Aussies can get to Mexican at least), and so we scooped up our little and headed in search of ribs (for Ryan) and a burrito (for me).

Much to my dismay the restaurant had quit serving burritos. Yes, you read that right - a Mexican restaurant with no burritos. (Remember friends, we are talking Australian-Mexican food here.)

So instead I got the enchiladas.

To my shock and horror I was delivered a giant plate with ONE enchilada surrounded by two massive side dishes - beans on one side and lettuce on the other. My measly lone enchilada was nearly lost in that sea of lettuce and beans.

Now before you feel too sorry for me let me remind you that this occasion was not about me. (Keep in mind how hard it is for a pregnant woman to acknowledge this when it comes to anything food-related!)

Thankfully my enchilada (singular) was tasty... but far more importantly, Ryan's huge order of ribs was absolutely delish. Levi munched on bits of our meals and was happy bopping along in his highchair to the cheesy Video Hits that played in the background. But the best part of the meal was the end - just watching my boy love his daddy and my man love his son.

They are such a great pair.

Soaking wet and still hungry or not... there's no better way to spend a Sunday than with the ones I love most.

Dear friends, have you had some good family time this week? I dare you to be deliberate about making it happen.

estoy alegre,

Note: You can read my original post with more of what this is all about here. If you'd like to grab the Reclaiming Sundays button and join in with our family's quest to make some more time for rest in our busy lives, then please feel free. (And remember, your "Sundays" don't have to literally be on Sundays... any old day will do, as long as it's deliberate.) Make sure to leave me your link so I can visit!

<a href="http://www.themommyhoodmemos.com" target="_blank"><img alt="The Mommyhood Memos" src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m223/adrielmc/reclaimingsundaysbuttonimagesize200.jpg" /></a>
(And don't worry, the button will display on your blog as a normal button size!)

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011 

do not reproduce without written permission

little teachers: laugh loud

I'm venturing into new territory here.

You may or may not know that with my work I do a lot of travel, especially into developing nations. I've been doing outreaches for the last 10+ years, both as a single person and now together with my husband and family. (I'm a big believer in family volunteerism and teaching our kids how to serve others while they're still young.)

We teach, we advocate, we do relief work. We volunteer in schools, orphanages, clinics, and churches. We help refugees, the poor, and those in need of care. We're no heroes... we just love, give what we've received, and know that it is an absolute privilege to do so.

And so because of this work that I so deeply adore, I've been to many, many nations all over the planet. Literally.

But my favorite place in all the world to be is Asia. Anywhere in Asia. It's a land that makes my heart burst.

One of the things that delights me to no end is going for long walks on my days off wandering through cities or villages and photographing the people that I meet. I could spend days on end doing this.... walking, connecting, capturing, recording.

And since the Memos is all about motherhood and parenting and children, I thought it fitting to introduce you to some of the very special children in my life. Hence my new series that I will post now and then - All the Children of the World: Little Teachers.

These beautiful littles don't "belong" to me. In fact, often I can't even recall their names.

But always I will remember their faces, the moments we shared together, and the ways they impacted my life.

Each one of them is beyond precious.

Allow me to introduce you to some boys I met in Pontianak, Indonesia (on the island of Borneo).

{buddies in borneo - 2008}

Although nowhere near my best on a technical level, this photo remains one of my all time favorites so I thought it fitting to kick off this new series with it.

These boys loved having their photo taken. No doubt it was their grand debut on the international stage and they didn't waste a moment of it.

They splashed, they ran, they danced, and they hollered. They closed their eyes, threw their heads back, and unabashedly roared with laughter.

I love the color and movement and emotion in this photo and how it captures the pure abandon with which they were enjoying the moment.

Every time I see it I'm reminded to play hard, laugh loud, and hold somebody's hand.

Dear friends, what have the Little Teachers in your life taught you or reminded you to do lately?

smiling wide,

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

reclaiming sundays

New Years resolutions. Some love ‘em. Some hate ‘em. Some are diligent to follow through. Many start with great ideas that never make it past a list scrawled out in a journal or on the fridge.

I didn’t make any resolutions this year (apart from a few blogging goals, which—let’s be honest—I’ve yet to even come close to implementing most of them).

But I did have one thing in particular on my heart and mind for this year… a change I wanted to make…

You see… life. is. busy.

We all know that.

Time is perhaps our most precious commodity. How we spend it, how we invest it, and how we squander it will define not only our present, but our future.

I’m tired of having days—even entire weeks—where I get to the end and think what in the world did I do with my time?

It’s all too easy to let life rule me and lead me, rather than me leading life the way I want it to go.

Yes, I am trying to be more organized and accomplish certain short-term goals… but what I’m really talking about here is the quality time I want to spend living life, enjoying life.

I’m pretty sure no one gets to the end of their days only to think, “I wish I had kept a better-organized pantry!”

So I’ve tried to be deliberate, to take advantage of my (mostly) fluid schedule. Instead of getting caught up in the business of taking care of a baby and taking care of a home, finances, part-time work responsibilities, ministry, etc. (these are all good things, mind you), I’ve tried to be intentional about also having fun with my son. You know, impromptu trips to the park, a quick play in a sink filled with bubbles, dumping a million blocks on the floor to see what we can create, or sitting down in the middle of the kitchen with him to bang on pots and pans to see what kind of noise we can create.

In fact, even at one point while writing this post Levi came up to me and started bouncing up and down near my feet. He had a wooden puzzle in his hand that he was obviously dying for me to get down on the floor and help him with. So I did.

It’s not about catering to our children’s every whim. It’s about paying attention to them, letting them remind us to be present, and remembering that they are individuals who are constantly learning, perceiving, and even forming judgments of their own (including sizing up what they deem as mama’s priorities).

I don’t want to be at the point of sending Levi off to school in a few years time and look back and wish I had spent the early days with him differently.

So I’m trying. Not always succeeding the way I’d like to, but trying nonetheless.

No doubt you can relate.

But this isn’t just about being a parent and having quality time with my kids.

It’s even bigger than that. It’s about having quality time with my husband, quality time with friends, quality time for myself, quality time set apart for God.

I’m aware, more and more, that we’re living on borrowed time.

I don’t want to look back on my life and think that I squandered the time I was given. But the sad truth for most of us is that a lack of being deliberate leads us into a slow and steady process of waste... wasted time.

And wasted time leads to a wasted life.

So my goal for this year is to reclaim Sundays in hopes that will help bring me more focus on spending my precious time well.

There is nothing magical about Sundays. In my opinion the day itself is not holy any more than a Tuesday or a Friday is. Every day is holy if only we’d treat it as such.

But like most families we have weekends off from work. Saturdays tend to be quickly filled up with chores, errands, and house/yard projects. And so that leaves Sundays – the only day of the week that we can really stop. Rest. Reflect. Recharge.

So this year I want to reclaim Sundays. I want to wake up Monday morning feeling like I’m starting my work week from a good place, from a better place.

It’s not a religious thing, although God himself understands the value of Sabbath rest for busy, hard-working people and has gone so far as commanding his followers to observe it (ie: rest, pray, play, refuel, reconnect).

But it’s more than “just” religion.

Rest, recreation, refreshing, recharging, relationships… these are as important as the air we breathe and the food that sustains us. All of it is absolutely crucial to living a healthy and balanced life… a good life.

So {dramatic pause} I want to make Sundays – whether it is the entire day or part of the day – a day that I know I can look forward to because it is one where we will deliberately draw aside from our “to do’s” in order to really enjoy life… do things that refresh us and recharge us, excite us and connect us. I want Sundays to be a day in our home that the entire family looks forward to because it means something fun is about to happen… even if that something fun is an intentional “nothing” from time to time. I want it to be a day that we are calculated about pausing the busyness in order to enjoy relationships, create memories, and focus on the things that help grow joy in hearts and homes.

I have decided that part of holding myself accountable to being deliberate about this goal will be me posting a photo or a thought or a recount of Sundays (or Saturdays or whatever day worked out for us to be “Sunday” for the week) on the Memos. I may not perfectly succeed, and I’m okay with that, but I am determined to try. I am determined to do better.

For my own sake. My for my husband’s sake. For our children’s sake.

Dear friends, please feel free to join me on my endeavor to reclaim Sundays. I’m doing this for myself, for my family, for my friends… But no doubt other blogging mamas out there could benefit from reclaiming Sundays too. I don’t want to just create another meme for the sake of gaining blog followers (*blech* I don’t have time for stuff like that anyway). But I suspect I’m not alone in my desire. If that’s you, if you want to try and reclaim Sundays too, link up with me next week and share about your own “Sunday” or special family time. (I'll have a grab button and linky open next week if you're interested in joining.) I challenge you to carve out time, be deliberate about living, and record the journey for your family’s sake and for your own.

reclaiming sundays,

P.S. It's Sunday here... and we went to the beach today..........Our day included fish and chips. And ice cream. But... more about that later. *happysighofcontentment*

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