Tag Archives: childhood memories

Stuff – what would you put in your box?

In light of the Colorado wildfires I was thinking tonight about what I would put in THE BOX if I had enough time to gather up precious, sentimental valuables.

Actually, I know full well what I’d put in there because I had to do it not that long ago when a cyclone was headed straight for our city.

I put in our passports, a few other important documents, some photos, journals, a box of love notes, and our hard-drives which contain several years worth of photos.

Really, when you boil it right down, most things we have are replaceable.

But then I started thinking about some of the things I have stored up in my parents attic – sentimental things from my childhood.

What if they were to evacuate their home suddenly, with only a short window of time to “rescue” a box or a car load of stuff? They would have no idea the things that I hold dear from my childhood. (Or if they did, there’d be no way they could locate them in time.)

What remains of my childhood in “stuff” form would be gone forever. (Not the end of the world, but sad for a sentimental sap like me.)

One of the things I’ve wanted to do during this time home in Oregon was rumage that attic and see what treasures I left behind 12 years ago when I left and never came back. That was on my list far before I left Australia.

But the fires in Colorado have given me extra incentive.

Now as I go through those few old boxes (there aren’t many – maybe 3 or 4) I will know to sort the fun-sentimental stuff from the important-sentimental stuff (as well as the non-sentimental-just-move-on stuff as well).

My heart and my prayers go to those caught in tragedy in Colorado, all the while my mind goes here:

what’s really important?

STOP.

 

Q for you: What would you put in your box?

 

Love,
A

p.s. I’ve been sick. And absent. BOO. 😦 But I’m on the mend now. YAY. 🙂

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited

 


Mentioned with an eye roll

I’ve always been a little on the dramatic side.

Unfortunately, that often has negative connotations when people mention it.

Instead of being recognized as creative and spirited, it’s often mentioned with an eye roll.

It’s too early to tell if Judah will be dramatic. But Levi? Oh, he’s dramatic!

Even now as a two-year-old the way he tells stories is absolutely hilarious. (And mind-boggling.) He acts them out using different voices and fake cries, fake laughter, hand and body motions. The whole bit.

In junior high I hurt myself playing crack the whip with some friends at a slumber party. I cried, and they teased me for “being dramatic”. I spent the next several hours on the couch until my friend’s mom noticed that I was burning up with a fever. Only then did they call my dad to come and take me to the emergency room.

I had fractured my arm. Go figure.

From that point on I tried to never cry when I was (physically) hurt. I wanted to make sure I never gave anyone a reason to think I might be “crying wolf”, so I tried not to cry at all.

“I’d show them,” I thought. “I may be skinny but I’m tougher than they think.”

Years later I was told that I probably couldn’t handle natural childbirth. I just “didn’t have the pain tolerance.”

Um, excuse me??

It’s a shame how we think we can judge and measure and set limitations on other people, based on what we perceive about their personality.

It’s an even bigger shame that we take on and internalize those judgements and measurements.

Now as an adult I’ve suffered many types of pain. Often I’ve not even shared my pain with anyone, for fear of appearing dramatic or weak or even just ungrateful.

Sad really.

But now as a grown-up with my own littles I’m trying to be very deliberate about how I speak around them.

Yes, Levi is dramatic and strong-willed and determined and independent (he’s so much like his mama), but I never want him to sense a negativity in my tone when I comment on those aspects of his personality.

Even though he’s decisive, he’s also very sensitive and very, very creative.

Believe me, it’s tempting to roll my eyes at his dramatics sometimes. But I hope – I really hope – that I’ll be able to nurture his creative and sensitive side (while also helping him to hone his strength and decisiveness) and help him feel comfortable being himself. Even when it does seem  a little over-the-top to the rest of us.

After all, who are we to know what another person is really feeling inside? And who are we to know what they are really capable of?

People are much stronger, and much more fragile, than we often think.

STOP.

 

Q for you: Have you been rolling your eyes at someone lately? If so, perhaps you need to rethink that.

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited

 


Jonathan, the boy with autism

In the sixth grade my teachers took my class to the swimming pool on Fridays to work with the kids from the Alice Hatch Center.

The Alice Hatch Center was a preschool for kids with special needs.

I can’t remember any of the kids, or what kinds of “needs” they had… except for one:

Jonathan.

Jonathan was “my” boy.

He was three years old, slight for his age, with blonde hair and gray-blue eyes.

Jonathan had autism.

For whatever reason, Jonathan decided he liked me and trusted me.

I was the only one he’d swim with.

To say we were buddies was an understatement.

I loved that kid.

I’m pretty sure he loved me too.

I looked forward to seeing him each Friday afternoon.

That was when I decided I wanted to be a child psychologist and work with autistic kids.

I was eleven.

Obviously that dream didn’t stick with me for the long term. (It did for about 4-5 years though!)

I’m no child psychologist today, nor do I desire to be. But I always have had a special soft spot in my heart for kids with special needs.

They are so often misunderstood. Misunderstood and even feared.

I sometimes think about Jonathan today. He would be about 26 – all grown up. I dont even know his last name.

I wonder if he lives independently and what his life is like.

I sometimes miss him too.

What great teachers I had – Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Fox – who gave their sixth graders a chance to help kids in need, and a chance to be changed in the process.

STOP.

 

Q for you: What special person from your childhood do you miss?

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five is a blog by Adriel Booker. | Five minutes a day, unedited. | 2012 All rights reserved. | Adriel also writes on parenting and motherhood at The Mommyhood Memos.