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Kristen Anne Glover

Five in Tow

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Reclaiming the Loo

Today, my friend Abbie invited me over to her place.  She’s a mom of five just like me, including twins, just like me.  Since Abbie is so much like me, I figured she would sympathize with one of my mom-problems: how to get the children to leave me alone when the bathroom door closes.

Am I the only one whose children think going to the bathroom is a group activity?  I think not.

Mothers of the World, it’s time we reclaim the loo.  Join me over at Five Days 5 Ways and find out my devious plan to help us do just that.

Reclaim the Loo

Humor, Parenting 3 Comments

Dear Martha: 100 Beautiful Days of Motherhood {29}

Martha Stewart Living

Dear Martha,

Thank you for your generous magazine subscription offer.  “Free” is one of my favorite words these days, and I’m a huge fan.  Really.  I have a stack of your past work and I look at it sometimes when I need to know how to choose a ripe kumquat or draw a mural on my staircase.

Unfortunately, I will have to decline your offer.  While it’s wonderful to know that macramé is not a lost art and someone besides my uncle has a swizzle stick collection, I find your magazine does not have what I need.

I do not need to know how to raise prize-winning ducks or how to care for mohair.  I do not need to know how to identify marks on silver (we’re pretty much a Rubbermaid and Pyrex kind of family) and I certainly do not need to know how to indulge myself with a perfect manicure, even though you would be appalled at the state of my cuticles.

What I need is to know how to be satisfied with what I have.

I need to know how to give my attention fully to my children.

I need to know how to get juice out of carpet.  Maybe you covered that one.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love what you do.  In fact, that’s the problem.  I love the excellence with which you pursue your craft and the beauty you dangle before my eyes, so much so that I could easily lose myself in it.  I could bow down to your hospital corners and perfectly organized sock drawers.  I could pursue that kind of excellence without a backward glance.

You see, Martha, all that beauty demands a response, and I have a hard time responding rightly.  I see what you have and I want it.  It’s a little escape, a little dream, a little distance from my reality, which is a lot messier than yours.  You probably don’t have sippy cups fall on you when you open your cupboard doors, but I do.  You probably don’t have mismatched quilts on the kids’ beds, but I do.  You probably don’t even know what a mess Silly Putty can make on couch cushions, but I do.

And it’s taken me longer than I care to admit to be okay with that.  It’s taken  me longer than I care to admit to realize that my kids do not need they kind of mom who buys in to what you offer.  They do not need a mantel full of hand-flocked Easter bunnies or made-from-scratch Twinkies.  They need me.  They need me present, undistracted, and humble enough to not chase after every “good thing” that graces your glossy pages.

There will be a time, I’m sure, when the grandkids come to visit and I will awe them with gingerbread cathedrals and homemade snow globes.  But these kids, my kids, don’t need more picture-perfect magical moments that come at the cost of a too-stressed mom who loves perfection more than reality.

They need this mom, their mom, to spend more time pleasing them than you.  They need this mom, their mom, to be in this thing 100%.  And that’s not something you can help me with.

So, with all due respect, I think your free magazine is still a little too rich for my blood.  It’s just not worth the cost.

Yours affectionately,
Kristen

Humor, Parenting, Uncategorized 28 Comments

30 Days to Enjoying Your Children More: Rest {Day 19}

Just joining us?  You will find Day 1 of the series here.

Just joining us? You will find Day 1 of the series here.

When Daylight Saving Time ended about six weeks ago, I did not set my clocks back.  I hate how it gets dark out at 4 pm, how my children are cranky for a week while they adjust to the new schedule, and how much more time my kids have to spend inside because night falls just as soon as they are finishing school.  This year, I simply refused to participate.

We now operate by our own time.

This has worked out brilliantly for me.  Using Glover Time, I never have to be out of the house before 10 am because that’s only 9 am to the rest of the Pacific Standard Time minions.  My neighbors think I am an incredibly responsible person when my kitchen light turns on at 5:50 am.  Yep, that’s me.  Mrs. Morning Person with the five kids all dressed and memorizing Bible verses at 8 am.

The only hitch in my little rebellion against the Time Lords is Wednesday night.  Wednesday night is when the kids and I go to our home group Bible study.  Wednesday nights start at 7 pm in “real” time, which means we arrive at 8 pm Glover time.  8 pm Glover Time is bedtime, the only thing holy next to God.  This is problematic.

But last week, I was relieve to find that the kids did not feel the least bit sleepy at the start of our home group.  They did not feel the least bit sleepy when dessert was served or when the movie started.  They did not feel the least bit sleepy as we drove home and counted Christmas lights.

But when we rolled in the driveway at 10:30 pm, Kya burst into tears.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she wailed.  “I just feel like crying!”  She could not get out of the van.  She was sobbing all over her new lilac colored puffy winter coat with matching accessories.

Micah had developed a sudden paralysis as well, which was unfortunate because his seat blocks the sliding door.  Everyone waited.

“I can’t waaaaaaaaaalk,” he moaned.

“Micah!  Ouch, stop pushing!  I can’t get out!  MOM!  Micah won’t move!”  My older two made their contributions to our Hallmark moment.

“Micah, come here,” I said, yanking him (it was a gentle yank) out of the car and tucking him under one arm.

“Mom!  Don’t hurt me!” he wailed loudly enough to cause our neighbor to come to his window to see which of my children I was beating in the driveway.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, sweetie,” I said while fishing in the van with my free arm for the missing  twin.  “Paul, come here,” I said.

“I so TIRED, Mom!”  Paul sighed, slumping down between his seat and mine where I could not reach him.

“I know you’re tired.  But you need to get of the car first and I’ll get you all tucked into bed.  Come here, Paul.”  Paul obeyed but his lower lip stuck out and trembled.  I scooped him up in my other arm and attempted to carry both boys up the front steps, even though I am painfully—I repeat, painfully—out of practice when it comes to carrying both boys up the front steps at the same time.  Kya followed me, crying like I’d just told her she isn’t a real princess.

“Don’t worry, guys,” I gasped, wondering if my kids really would dial 911 if I passed out, or if they’d just jump on me.  “I’ll have you cozy in a minute.”

But it took more than a minute to get everyone in bed.  Kya wept over her toothbrush.  Paul collapsed in the entryway and refused to take off his shoes.  Micah face-planted onto the steps leading up to the bathroom where he moaned, “I tired…I tired…I tired…” to which Faith replied, “We heard you the first time!”

It was heartwarming, really.  As I crashed into bed, I realized I had not even started my blog post for the next day.  Not.  Even.  Started.  It was supposed to be on enjoying my children, and specifically, weakness.  That was funny, because the last half hour, I had absolutely cherished the socks off those little dumplings. 

I should write on exhaustion, I thought.  But I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet.  I was secretly terrified that I had to get up in the morning and do this all over again.  I had to teach school and parent alone and be alone and try to write what was on my heart in a way that wasn’t preachy or self-righteous or…fake.  Also, I hadn’t shaved my legs in at least two weeks.  Suddenly, that seemed important.

Vince Lomabrdi once said, “Exhaustion makes cowards of us all.”  If by “coward” he meant “paranoid schizophrenic,” then yes.  That quote is spot-on.   Exhaustion was wreaking havoc in my home.

The opposite of exhaustion is rest.  That’s something I used to get before I had children.  In fact, before I had children, I didn’t have to think about rest much at all because it was usually available to me whenever I needed it.  Now, it is something I have to find.

In the Bible, rest is equated with blessing, promise, and God’s favor.  It is hope for the future.  But it is also a command.  I used to wonder why God commanded us to rest.  Rest is one of our most basic needs as human beings, like food.  We need deep, daily, restorative rest.  God doesn’t need to tell us that.

Or does He?

The command to rest highlights the fact that there is something in our nature that fights it.  We get squirrely about going to bed on time and resting in quiet devotion to God.  In fact, we tend to do everything else first.  We see it in Psalm 23, where God has to make us to lie down in green pastures.

We see it also in the church.  We love the Ten Commandments, except that one about the Sabbath.  That one no longer applies to us today, we say, and dispose of the beauty, grace, and gift of the Sabbath along with the Law.  We want to fix people by plugging them into programs or doling out Scripture verses when often what they need is rest, true physical and spiritual rest.

We see it in our homes.  We stay up too late working, pushing bedtime farther and farther back while we struggle to fit more into a day than a day can hold.  When we have time, we tend to equate rest and relaxation, or worse, rest and entertainment.  They are not the same things.

Rest is a discipline.    

It is taking the time to restore our bodies and our souls.  It means going to bed on time.  It means humbling ourselves in quiet reflection before God.  Those two things do not happen in front of the TV or at a BBQ with the neighbors.  Rest takes work.

One of the greatest things we can do to foster our enjoyment of our children is to guard our times of rest.  The very practical aspect of making sure your children go to bed on time and get enough rest (note to self) will work wonders on making them more enjoyable.  Ensuring your own rest time will make you more enjoyable.

When I am tempted to overextend myself and fight against rest (which is often), I think of Jesus.  Throughout the New Testament, we find him slipping away, even though the crowds of needy people pressed in around him and followed him wherever he went.   Imagine that.  There he is, the Savior of the World, the one who can fix all their hurts, heal their diseases, raise their dead—and he leaves them with their hands outstretched so he can go take a nap.

I think Jesus knew the intimacy between body and soul.  He knew it is very difficult to have a restful soul without a rested body.  Rest was essential to his ministry and to his health.  He understood that he could not help any of those people if he was not restored in body and spirit.  So he slept.  And he prayed.  He took the time to rest so he was equipped to do the work God had for him.

Surely, if the Son of God can leave blind men and beggars to rest, I can leave the dishes in the sink and go to bed on time.  Surely, if the Son of God can find time to pray when all the world was waiting for him to do a work, I can find the time to settle my soul down with my Savior, even if it means saying no to entertainment or relaxation or leaving before the party has ended.  Surely, if the Son of God needed to rest in order to do his best for those he loved, I do as well.

 

 

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He restores my soul

Please join us tomorrow for Day 20: Food

For further thought:

1) Using a tool like www.biblegateway.com, search for the word “rest.”  Notice how often the word is equated with a blessing.  Do you view rest as a blessing or an obligation?

2) When was the last time you restored your soul by resting in God?  Today, make it a point to get away with God for ten minutes.  Pray.  Rest in the promises of His Word.  You will find yourself more equipped to love and enjoy your children for the rest of the day.

3) How is rest like an act of faith?

Bonus: Sometimes, we don’t get the rest we think we need and it can become an idol in our lives.  If you have this struggle, you might want to read Counting the Hours, a story I wrote about that very thing.

Humor, Parenting 15 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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