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Kristen Anne Glover

Five in Tow

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The Sweet Middle

Micah in the middle

The sweet middle

He sidles up to me and takes my hand as we walk along past the reclusive tiger and the shaggy sloth bear. The sun tosses freckles across my son’s nose, and the air hugs us close.

His palms are rough from dirt-clod making and fort building. They are sweaty and sticky with boyhood, and I try not to wonder if he washed his hands after touching the snake.

He is seven, and the babyhood has stretched right out of his face. He tells me he knows how to spell “Mississippi.” It’s a secret he’s been saving for just such an occasion. “Oh yeah?” I taunt. “Show me.”

And he does.

“M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.”  Micah flashes the toothy smile of a second grader whose teeth are too big for his face.

My nose stings with the sudden urge to spill hot tears all over the pathway through Asia because it’s almost over—this salty-sweet season of his childhood is almost over. I squeeze my son’s hand tighter and look down into his thinning face and wonder if this will be the last time, the last time he puts his hand into mine and skips along next to me with cheerful acquiescence.

I won’t let go for anything in the world, snake smell or not.

Sweet season

Sweet season

We walk past the tree house playground. It is Way Past Naptime and the toddlers are eating wood chips and hurling sippy cups and using their words to communicate just how unlikely it is that they are going to leave willingly. The mamas are running on fishy crackers and juice pack fumes and looking every bit like they had no idea what they were getting into when their husbands said, “Honey, let me give you a massage.”

I want to stop and tell them that it is worth it. They are knee-deep in planting season, now, and torn up like a field in spring.

It is hard to imagine it will ever be any other way.

But I am just a few warm months further into the season, and those muddy, upturned fields are greening with the evidence of a work well done. I hold onto my son’s sticky hand and know that by the grace of God, some of the things I planted are growing. (And by the grace of God, some of the things I planted are not). Beautiful leaves are unfolding where furrows once lay, and I have the hope of a harvest in fields I once fought to win.

It is so worth it.

sweet middles

Beautiful leaves are unfolding where furrows once lay

It is hard still; of course it is hard. The labor doesn’t stop when the babies are birthed. It just…changes. There are weeds to pull and plants to prune—but I look down at that boy by my side and realize we are working together now, most days. The child who once would have gone to the cross over apple juice is now my companion in the sowing.

This is the sweet middle season, when my babies are not quite babies, but they’re not quite grown. It is the respite between tantrums and dating. My kids don’t need me as much now, but they need me enough. I can sleep for eight hours straight because they’re not driving yet.  They can do their own laundry, and the house stays cleaner even if the fridge is emptier.

They are learning to pull their own weeds and plant their own seeds and work with me on becoming who they were meant to be. We stand side-by-side in the same field, more friends than anything, striving for the same beautiful unfolding.

Oh, yes.  It is worth it. 

I watch a mama wrestle her child down from the curly slide. She is up to her boots in the mucky part of motherhood, and I know she feels it. But I want to tell her that she is almost there–almost to the season where she can see the worth of her work. One day soon, she will look down and realize she isn’t dragging anyone along behind.

She is walking side-by-side with her child, right through the sweet middle. And she won’t let go for anything in the world.

The sweet middle

We stand side-by-side in the same field, more friends than anything, striving for the same beautiful unfolding

Kids, Parenting 5 Comments

I’m for Childhood

Skinned Knees

I’m for skinned knees,

Grass stains,

Sweaty foreheads,

And Band-Aids.

Sweaty boy

I’m for ice cream drips,

And soggy cones,

For Popsicle stains,

And Icees.

Icees

I’m for campfires,

Sooty hotdogs,

Lightning bugs,

And stars.Campfire

I’m for blanket forts,

Bedtime stories,

And flashlights.

I’m for sleeping close.

Sleeping Close

I’m for swings under trees,

Daisy chains,

And dandelion fluff.

I’m for touching the sky.

Blowing Dandelions

I’m for wide fields,

Deep woods,

And All Things Scary.

I’m for adventure.

Brave of all scary

I’m for Good Guys,

For super-hero capes,

Stick-swords,

And muscles.

Muscle man

I’m for King of the Mountain,

Tag,

And Hide-n-Seek.

I’m for playing.

Hide 'n Seek

I’m for road trips,

And “You’re-on-my-side,”

And “He’s-looking-at-me,”

And “If I have to pull over…”

Road Trip

I’m for bicycles,

Going too fast,

And Down-Hill.

I’m for brakes.

Bikes

I’m for climbing trees,

Apple picking,

And leaf piles.

I’m for pumpkins.

Pumpkin picking

I’m for Grandma’s house,

Sleepovers,

And extra dessert.

I’m for being spoiled.

Spoiled

I’m for stuffed animals,

the Tooth Fairy,

Christmas stockings,

And wishes.

Wishes

I’m for first snowfalls,

Soggy mittens,

And cocoa.

I’m for marshmallows.

Cocoa and Marshmallows

I’m for freckles,

Sticky kisses,

And dimpled hands.

I’m for “I love you.”

I love you

I’m for rainbows,

Twirling umbrellas,

And puddles.

I’m for mud pies.

Muddy Boots

I’m for stomping.

I’m for skipping,

And running,

And flying.

Summersaults

I’m for imagination,

For new crayons,

Fresh paper,

And possibilities.

Crafting

Crafting

I’m for discovery,

For turning over rocks,

Taking a leap,

Being brave.

Brave

I’m for newborn noises,

Kid conversations,

And questions.

I’m for naps.

Jonathan sleeping

I’m for growing.

I’m for new clothes,

Birthdays,

And missing teeth.

Happy Birthday

I’m for time—

For eternal days,

And days that go too quickly.

I’m for childhood.

Faith

100 Days of Motherhood, 40

100 Days of Motherhood, Parenting 8 Comments

The Final Disney Reveal

Ring Pops

Ring Pops–just another way to kick off a great adventure!

I almost didn’t dare to show my punk-face at church today after leaving the Disney series without a promised resolution.  God-fearing Christians can forgive a lot of things, but you’d better not start a story about your kids and not finish it or there might be words.

Sure enough, I stepped in the door with my Bible in my hand and was accosted with mean words like, “So, when are you going to post the rest of the story?”

I see how it is.  It’s all love, joy, and peace until your blog post is late by a day or three.

But I have to take responsibility for causing people to stumble because I did promise to tell–no, show–what happened when my kids finally figured out where their amazing surprise was going to take them.  I was going to post a video so you could see their delighted faces for yourselves.

The only trouble was, I had no idea how to do that. The video I took was too long so I couldn’t use it without editing it down.  Not only that, but it turns out I have am a terrible cinematographer.  Probably I didn’t need to take so many shots of the tops of my children’s heads or the ceiling of the fifth floor of the Sea-Tac parking garage.

Also, I sound funny on film.

Worse than that, I’m totally inept when it comes to technology.  I don’t even have a cell phone, and I’ve never sent a text message in my life.  I’m pretty sure that means I’m Amish.

So, I promised a video grand-finale to my series but had absolutely no way of making good on that promise.  I was banking on the fact that my husband, who sports a really cool prepaid cell phone from Walmart and just yesterday received a text message from a very nice company offering him a great price on auto insurance, could figure it out.

I was wrong.

For some reason, his video editing software did not like my shots of the Sea-Tac parking garage ceiling any more than I did, and it refused to work with that kind of lame material.  He spent a good chunk of time on Friday trying to help me out, but it could not be done.

Meanwhile, the three older kids came bursting home a little after midnight, all sun-kissed from spending four days in a state that exports all their cloud cover to Washington.  They were all “Disney-this” and “Disney-that” and “Why can’t we watch Aladdin?”

Because we’re Amish, that’s why.

Saturday was a work day at our house, but in between refinishing my cabinets and hearing all about the princesses that infest the Happiest Place on Earth, I managed to do something amazingly techie.  See, there’s this new thing called YouTube.  I  hear it’s all the rage with kids these days.  You can upload and edit your own home videos for all the world to see.  And that is exactly what I did.

I was able to upload my video on YouTube, even though it took nearly two hours to do it and I was half afraid something would go wrong and I’d have to start all over.  But it worked!  I even managed to edit it down just a bit so it’s not eternally long and you don’t have to listen to my funny voice until you start to wonder how Jeff puts up with it.

The end result was this, a video of the final moments of the mystery adventure.  As I told you in the last post, I had created gift bags for the kids that I had planned to have them open on the plane.  But because they still hadn’t figured out where they were going even after we pulled into the airport and I gave them Mickey shirts to wear, I had to give them the gift bags in the hopes that the final clues would help them make the connection between all these clues and Disneyland!

You can see all the things that were in the bag here.

Meanwhile, the kids started unpacking their gift bags.  Somewhere between the Buzz Lightyear puzzle and the autograph books, it started to sink in.

This is what happened:

 

Parenting, Uncategorized 21 Comments

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I believe you can find grace for the mother you are and help to become the mother you long to be—a mom who has the freedom to choose the better things and enjoy her kids right now.

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