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Kristen Anne Glover

Five in Tow

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Surrounded by Savages

A young and innocent Kristen Glover, banished to the Outside while her mother makes quiche

In the beginning, the first man and the first woman had two children.  But the children were both boys so their mother felt like she had a dozen.

The earth was young and the boys were wild since they didn’t have any girls but their mother to tame them.  They made weapons out of sticks and stale bread and pomegranate seeds.  They chased the sheep and ambushed the chickens and managed to find mud in the desert.

They punched and wrestled and ran so much, some days their mother thought she might go deaf.  Other days, she wished she already was deaf.

“That’s it!” the first mother shouted.  “I’ve had enough!”

The boys stopped dead in their tracks and wondered if this might be the end of the human population increase.

But God looked down on the earth and had compassion on the first mother because she was the only woman in the entire world, which pretty much meant she was surrounded by savages.

So God looked out over the great expanse of all that He had made, but He couldn’t find any place in all  that wild world that was soft and beautiful where a mother could rest.  So He said, “Let there be an oasis in the middle of this great expanse, and let it be called ‘Inside,’ and let Us separate the ‘Inside’ from the ‘Outside.’”

So God put up four walls and a lovely flat roof and separated the Inside from the Outside.  And God saw that it was good.

Then He told the mother, “You shall have dominion over all the Inside.  You will put flowers on the table and crochet afghans for the bed and tame a cat to sit in the window.

“And you will lure the man Inside by baking things that smell good and occasionally undressing.  Once the Man comes Inside, you will make him take off his dirty shoes and talk about his feelings.

“But if the Man leaves his greasy tools on your counter or uses your best knife to trim his toenails, you will send the Man Outside.

“And you will lure your children inside with bedtime stories and cozy blankets and sugar.  You will teach them to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and not to put their fingers in their noses.

“But if the Children shave the cat and turn your best tablecloth into a slingshot and release something scaly onto your bed, you will send the Children Outside.

“Then, you will sip a cup of tea, make quiche for dinner, and paint something.”

The woman smiled.

So it came about, after a surprisingly short period, that the Children spent a lot of time Outside.

And the Man built himself a garage.

Kya Outside, making weapons

Fiction, Humor, Parenting 17 Comments

Dining with Dragons

A dragon who is at all polite

Finds table manners a delight.

He washes up before he eats,

And waits for others to take their seats.

It is evident he knows the rule

Of using a napkin to catch the drool.

He tucks it underneath his chin,

And waits for dinner to begin,

Though he can hardly wait a minute

To eat the stew with three boys in it!

Or bite into the Princess Tart

(Dragon wants a juicy part)!

He does not grab, push, or whine;

That’s not the way good dragons dine.

He waits his turn and takes a little

Of every kind of tasty nibble.

And even if it’s not his fave,

He doesn’t ever misbehave,

And throw his food against the wall

Or refuse to open up at all.

(Mom lets him pick the eyeballs out

So really, there is no need to pout).

If he happens to burp a flame,

And doesn’t apologize, to his shame,

Dad simply says, “What a light!

Save it for a fearsome knight.”

But Dragon’s manners are so refined,

His father rarely must remind.

He never lets his wings stick out

Or blows milk bubbles with his snout.

He chews each and every bite

Quietly, with fangs sealed tight,

So Mom can’t see the food inside,

Partly chewed and liquified.

When he has eaten every crumb,

Dragon doesn’t dash off and run,

But stays until the rest are through,

Gives Mom a kiss and says “Thank you!”

He takes his cup and clears his dishes

Just like any mother wishes.

He is the pride of every dragon cave

Because he eats like a gentleman, not like a knave.

Perhaps you think only Dragon is able,

But even you can eat nicely at the dinner table.

Fiction, Humor, Parenting 13 Comments

My Pagan Deity of Choice

 

Sun, the shameless self-promoter

If I were an ancient pagan, I’d worship the sun.  In my opinion, none of the other ancient deities comes close to being worthy of the same amount of reverence.

Who would worship the moon?  It’s not even made out of cheese.  Cheese could change the equation, but it’s just a lie promoted by mothers who want their children to become astronauts.

Earth?  In the lineup of ancient deities, earth is the redneck cousin from Alabama.  Don’t hate me.  Religion is a polarizing topic but we can still love.

Wind?  Wind never really stood a chance because of all the jokes made about it in the pagan deity locker room.  It’s hard to feel reverent toward a deity that reminds prepubescent boys of gastrointestinal malfunctions.

Fire?  Before the invention of the S’more, fire was not even a contender.  So it burns things.  Big deal.  Lightening does that.  Insensitive boyfriends do that.  Sun does that.

Fertility?  Eh.   Seriously, what have you done for me lately?

Help me! My feet are so tiny!

No, Sun is where it’s at for me.  Here in the Pacific Northwest, the sun is distant, aloof, and fickle, just like any good pagan deity should be.  You can’t depend on it for anything, and if you try to predict it, you’ll just end up sounding like the Channel 5 weatherman who puts little clouds over every sun in his forecast, just in case, and then tries to makes it sound like “high cloud cover” and “sunshine” are synonymous.

They’re not.

Vicious little clouds…I’m on to you

Nothing can compare to the sun.  When it makes an appearance, the whole world comes out and stands on the sidewalk with arms raised to shield humble eyes from the glory.  With one voice, worshipers chant words of adoration and awe.

“Wow, it’s so bright!”

“It’s making my eyes hurt.”

“Where are my sunglasses?”

“They’re in your other fleece.”

“Oh.  If this keeps up, I might have to mow.”

“Did you know we have a view of the mountains?”

Mommy, that ball in the sky hurts my eyes!

We put on special worship attire like tank tops and shorts and try not to stare at each other’s white legs and remind our husbands that they should take off their socks before putting on their Birkenstocks.  We bask in the knowledge that it could be a good hair day.

The I-5 corridor clogs up as the faithful pilgrimage into the glowing orb bearing sacrificial lattes and liquid Vitamin D.  They squint and drive slower and put down their visors because they know that mere minions can never look directly into the face of a god.  Traffic reporters, who are sun worshiping apostates, try to contain their disdain.

But those of us who are believers send our children out to play and wash the flannel sheets and consider planting roses where the moss is growing in the back.  We stop envying our friends in California.  If the sun stays out long enough, we also stop hating the other 45 states that get more rays than we.  That’s the transformative power of the sun, and that’s why it’s the ancient pagan deity for me.

I’m assuming, of course, that the ancient pagans didn’t worship coffee.

Ancient pagans, you missed the boat on this one

*I am not promoting pagan worship, even if it includes coffee, but I am completely enamored with the Son.

Fiction, Humor, Uncategorized 17 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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