A Mama's Feelings About The Pandemic

“Dad, I’m sorry I made new friends and wanted to play with them.”

-Reese Elisabeth. January 19, 2021

Unprovoked, not guilted, not shamed, not scolded. Just a girl who felt badly today when she rode her bike in the neighborhood and excitedly saw some girls close to her age.

F THIS PANDEMIC.

That’s how I feel. That’s how we feel. And I would bet it’s how YOU feel too.

How old are your kids? Reese is seven years old, Pierson is eight. And this is their childhood. When every day, we are reminded that the world around us is CRUMBLING, still, with the global pandemic. It’s been no one’s FAULT. A LOT of people have gotten sick, are sick, I will never poo poo that.

But right now, my heart hurts for kids. Asa grew up in a subdivision type neighborhood and remembers riding his bike ALL day with friends from all over it. Being outside for hours on end, running and playing….and since I grew up in the country and NOT in a neighborhood, I just remember playing with the cows next door and having ZERO issues. I’m kiddingggggg, I remember going to church every Sunday and playing with my best friends, and I have all the best memories of playing Barbie dolls, going for walks and just enjoying being a GIRL.

The past year? My kids were robbed of that. Will there be other times and moments for them to make friends? Sure. But read the quote at the start of this post again. “I’m sorry I made new friends and wanted to play with them.”

There’s really nothing I can do to FIX this. Both Asa and I are getting the covid vaccine soon (Asa on FRIDAY of this week); as teachers in a huge district and the need for these kids to GO back to in person classes, we believe it’s what is best. And you know what? I hope and pray that the ‘right amount’ of people will GET vaccinated, and that the spread will lessen insanely. I hope and pray my kids can run and play and be wild and crazy and play tag and hide and seek and ride bikes and go IN the houses of FRIENDS.

My sweet girl. The one I was so shocked and frankly upset to be pregnant with EIGHT years ago this week. She’s my warrior. My spitfire. My Spunky Brewster.

When Asa Glass kissed my forehead that day and said, “We’re going to have a baby,” little did he or WE know…how stinking BLESSED we would be. Oh how I remember those thoughts: I wasn’t ready to be pregnant AGAIN, or to have a baby AGAIN. And look at her now. Reese has big feelings (like her mama) and she has a huge heart. She’s an extrovert at large and thrives on relationships. Friends are her love language (like her daddy.)

Our kids, Y’all. They’re not perfect but man do they have hearts of gold! If you’re hurting for your kids lately, will you comment on this post? We are in this together, mamas (and daddies) and friends and family. Asa shared to his Twitter account how he was sad for Reese with her statement and he had two friends immediately respond: “It’s hard for a 39 year old.” “And a 37…”

It’s HARD! And I’m giving you a big, giant, smothered HUG right now!

“Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, and whose hope is the LORD.” -Jeremiah 17:7

xx

This Mama's Walk Down Memory Lane: Are the Best and Most Magical Years Behind Us?

Well I just drastically found myself walking down the rabbit hole of memory lane… I’ve been here before. In a quiet house. Nothing but the sounds of wind blowing outside, the heater kicking on, the animals snoring, and in the midst of twinkly Christmas lights. The fire is crackling and my eyes are fuzzy from the long (but blessed) day I’ve had. I remember being here because the feelings of just wanting to write have graced me once more. Those days don’t come often…I just don’t make time for it like I used to. But before I crawl into bed beside my snoozing husband, I just want to write so that I don’t forget. Or so that when I do forget…I can come back and relive some of this life.

I launched this blog in 2015. Somehow five years have come and gone, and tonight as I sat in the silence I scrolled all the way down to my very first blog posts. In the middle I paused and read about our Humphrey and Elsa passing, and my heart hurts as I now write. One of the posts I also re-read was when our kids were two and three years old…in that post I described that season as magical and beautiful and how hard it was for me that the days were so fleeting. I was convinced that THOSE would be the best years I would experience….You may judge me just a little that right now, I kind of wonder if that I was right?

I’m not saying that I don’t love the stages that my kids are in NOW. They are seven and eight years old (HOW?!?) and oh my, you KNOW I love them each so dearly. But the last couple of years I will have these moments of aching for the days now behind us. New mamas reading this or expectant mamas…I used to want to punch people in the face when they told me to embrace the chaos that existed in those little years. How dare them tell me to EMBRACE the screaming and crying that often occurred when going out to eat or when pushing a shopping cart with each of them in it. Yet here I am…32-years old, wishing I had embraced those moments just a little bit tighter.

I did the best that I could have. You don’t know what you don’t know, especially when it comes to marriage and motherhood. You just DON’T! You excel, you succeed, you kick ass, and then often you also fail. Each day, you do the best you can with what you have, and you go to bed exhausted and you wake up wondering if you’re doing a good job. As I sit here, half way on my couch looking around our home…I miss the newborn days. I miss the toddler years. Heavens to Betsy, I actually MISS when they were each a threenager. Lately, their relationship with each other has been just plain tough. They fight. A lot. They bicker, they tattle, and I know I sound like I’m painting them into this awful corner of horrid children; that’s not my goal. And that’s not what I mean. But life lately is just different. They are so much bigger and maybe because they are only fifteen months apart, they simply struggle to merely get ALONG.

My relationship as their MOM, is different. I have noticed with Pierson especially, my sweet baby boy; he loves me now SO differently. His dad is his everything—his role model, his super hero, his biggest inspiration! And that is GREAT!! What a blessing that my kids have such a present and magnificent father! My big kid third grader sees me, his mama, a lot differently now compared to when he was tiny. Not to mention he’s more than half my height, and I can remember writing about being scared of the day when they’d each no longer fit in my arms. Well guess what? I can pick them up if I really need to, but y’all, they don’t FIT.

One of my sister in laws once told me she has loved every single stage of motherhood. I think I must have asked how she has handled them getting bigger and turning into the mini big kids that they are? And while I agree, I love every stage because I’m their MOM. I will always love them and celebrate them and I will forever cheer them on. But at the moment, I think I more so feel that this stage of motherhood kind of hurts? If I could turn back even a morsel of time, I wish we were in our old house, Jackson street near downtown Louisville—and that they would be tiny once again. Tiny enough to curl into my lap, that they needed to be rocked to sleep, that they needed ME because they didn’t yet have video games or Netflix or neighbor friends or other busy plans. Sounding selfish? Perhaps.

I want to make sure that I say this: my kids are amazing. They are beautiful and strong; they are intelligent and they love Jesus. And I KNOW they love each other…at the end of the day, they are generally asking if they can stay up late together and have sleepovers on each other’s floors. They are obedient and funny and their personalities are exploding as they figure out WHO they are. They still want ME to lie with them every single night, to tickle their backs and bellies and to sing a song or listen to one on Spotify…they hug me daily and tell me that they love me. They cheer ME on and support me on my many creative endeavors. They are GOOD kids.

Maybe it’s the twinkly lights and the silent house? Christmas is near and I often reminisce about those first few, where they were crawling or toddling around the tree. When life was crazy and chaotic, but at the same time…it felt a little simpler? It could also be the pandemic fatigue spurring on these feelings too, y’all know we can’t discount that we are TIRED people as a whole right now. I write all of this to say, no matter where your kids are in this season of life, no matter how big or small they are, no matter what YOU personally are feeling; let’s take a second (or some hours!!) and try to embrace their stages right NOW a little more. Are you up all night nursing and burping and wondering if you’ll ever sleep again? (You will.) Are you wondering how in the world your threenager is wearing you out SO damn much and anxiously awaiting for them to turn FOUR? (They will…and then they’ll turn five. And six. And seven. And eight…) See, this is a reminder for ME too…as I wonder if my seven and eight year old will ever need me again or if they’ll ever be the very best of friends. (Ashley…they will.)

Memory lane…it can be a beast to walk down can’t it? Here’s a quote I want to end on, my soul sister Jen Hatmaker said it in her book ‘Of Mess and Moxie:”

“Of course, in a hundred years, no one will remember any of us and our story will be lost in obscurity, but for us, for all these years when we were kids and then grown-ups, when you were young parents and then grandparents, this is the only story that ever mattered, and it was such a marvelous one. The best story I ever imagined.”

While I sit and remember, and as I remember the hardships and the blessings…I am incredibly thankful that this IS my story—and that I am their Mom.

A Mom Meltdown and Pandemic Blues

It has been 251 days.

We walked out of our classrooms on March 13, having zero clue what to expect, what was REALLY happening, and what the future would look like.

First, I want to admit to you that I feel guilty even trying to write this post. I have a tendency to be way too hard on myself (shocker!!) and sometimes I instill shame or guilt for absolutely zero reason. I also often tread lightly, tiptoeing around certain subjects because let’s face it; there are a LOT of you who may read my work and you may disagree heavily. At the end of the day, that’s not why I do what I do; to please everyone—so clearly I am giving myself this mini pep talk before I move on. But let’s move on.

Tonight I freaked out. Not like, ALL the way freaked out? But I definitely freaked out.

Our kids fight, A LOT. This may sound dramatic, but both Asa and I feel like they bicker and pick and tattle and bicker some more…ALL DAY LONG. It’s exhausting. It wears me down. It deflates both of us, a lot. MOST of the time, I’m able to shrug it off. To remind myself that they are kids, they are seven and eight years old, and that “this too shall pass.” But tonight? Tonight was different. It’s been a long week, Guys. Yeah, it’s been a long YEAR, but let me focus a little smaller for now. Asa and I both teach from home, and our kids have been learning virtually as well. For 251 days we have been together, around the clock, more than we ever have before. There hasn’t been a seven hour break in our day where Asa goes to work at his school, the kids go to actual classrooms, and I am at my school. Truthfully?? And you might hate me for this?? Quarantine has generally speaking, been a blessing for us. Asa and I’s marriage has been STRONGER, we’ve fought less, and throughout the summer especially, we were in a GROOVE that I can’t explain. Life almost felt ‘normal,’ as we were able to be outside a ton, hike, a lot, and we spent a ton of time with the local siblings and family. It felt GOOD.

Today I taught from home, went for a run, exercised one of my horses, took photos for a family, came home, and instead of being able to ‘aaahhh,’ sigh a big sigh of relief because home is always wonderful right??…..I lost it. Pierson can’t stand when Reese whistles. Sadly, he learned that from me I think because I despise whistling, and he’s a lot like me sometimes. I can only take SO much of it, but I do TRY to let it go. The girl should be allowed to be happy and LIVE. Asa had worked hard on dinner and we were sitting down to watch a new Netflix movie as a family; mind you, in the glow of the Christmas tree and twinkly lights and our sweet wonderful Golden Retrievers (aka completely magical setting right?!?) The kids finished their dinner, we told them we would make them popcorn and they could have some Halloween candy. (Can you see how blessed/spoiled they are??) As they’re going up the stairs to get their bags, I hear fighting, whining, and this, “REESE! STOP WHISTLING!!” he didn’t say it once though…he said it numerous times and it was the icing on the cake after the longest week ever…A ton of bricks felt as if they dumped right out onto my chest. I’m not exaggerating when I say I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt. I was overcome with such anger; I stormed to the bottom of the stairs, screamed at my kids (mostly him), kicked the floor, sped-walked to our bedroom, slammed the door, and sat in our closet in the pitch black burying my head in my hands.

WHY!?

Well first, thank God for Asa. He came in gently, reminded me that that’s really NOT the precedent we want to set for our kids, and told me to just breathe. Our orange wonder cat Alfie came to the closet to find me, sat in my lap and I practiced some big, DEEP breaths. After a few minutes, I came back out to the living room, tears in my eyes, and Asa was there, graciously parenting the kids. I grabbed my Peace & Calming essential oil, rubbed some in my hands and took deep breaths AGAIN. I apologized to the kids for losing my temper (I promise this is not a NORMAL occurrence for me.) I can get mad and angry and annoyed but tonight I will wholeheartedly admit I went over the edge.

Here’s where my heart is currently. This week has been HARD. Every year we host Thanksgiving with the local family. Every year, Asa looks forward to making our home beautiful and warm and cozy and filled with nothing but the BEST homemade food. The kids play and there is laughter and screaming and complete beautiful chaos. (Let’s face it, I basically hate noise, so it’s taken me some time to get to the point where I ENJOY their happy screams?? But after 12 years of holidays together, I promise I do now enjoy it.) We were planning to host this coming Saturday, with the same people we always have; and with the same people we have spent all of quarantine basically with. Our bubble has been small, we always ALL wear masks when going out in any form of public, we wash our hands and don’t put them in our mouth…I mean you name it, we are doing ALL the ‘right’ things…..so I didn’t really think twice about spending the holiday together!

And then gosh…our governor did his daily 4pm broadcast and he informed Kentucky that he is highly recommending that gatherings be limited to eight people, and a maximum of two households. He said this:

“Since March 6 – the day Kentucky had its first confirmed case – we have been under attack and at war with the coronavirus. It has upended our routines, damaged our economy, threatened our children’s education and taken far too many lives,” Gov. Beshear said. “Now, it is time for Kentucky’s third counterattack on the coronavirus. Let me be clear about a few things. This is not, and will not be, a shutdown. Our economy is open, and there will be no closings based on essential or nonessential services. But today we are announcing significant, but surgical and targeted steps designed to slow the spread of the virus and protect our people.”

That night, everyone decided that cancelling this year’s Kentucky Thanksgiving was the right thing to do, as much as it hurts to say and process that. My heart sunk for Asa…it sunk for my sweet niece who turns 13 on November 24 and who cannot have a party to celebrate…it sunk for our city and our people, period. Our kids MISS school. We miss seeing our co-workers and having that normalcy and routine in our lives. Don’t get me wrong, I have LOVED working from home in my sweatpants and fuzzy socks most days…but 251 days is a lot. And I KNOW we could have it worse. I KNOW our situation could be horrendous. I am THANKFUL that we have had our careers during this time and that we haven’t worried about unemployment or how the shut downs necessarily affect or don’t affect us. But my heart is still TIRED.

Pandemic fatigue is a REAL THING. Heavy hearts is a real thing. It’s okay to be and feel blessed, and to also be WORN OUT. I shared in my Instagram stories yesterday some of this (minus the breakdown part because I hadn’t HAD it yet… bless….) and I had some really sweet feedback. It was obvious I’m not the only feeling this way. I’ve also muted a LOT of Instagram accounts and hid things from my Facebook wall. I’ve realized now probably more than ever, my heart needs boundaries and it needs to be protected. Some people will post graphics and memes and such HARSH opinions ALL throughout their platforms and Y’all, it brings me DOWN. Thank God for the mute button. I still love my friends and it’s okay to follow people with different opinions and views (how lame would it be if we all THOUGHT the same exact way on every single issue and topic?!?) but I can’t do all the hate and bashing and one sided opinions.

So there ya have it, friends! That’s where I’M at. How are YOU?? How have your plans this holiday season changed (or not changed?) If you need someone to share frustrations or camaraderie with, always know you can email me. We can sit in it together. And Mamas? If you’re one who has freaked out recently (or ever), just know you ALSO are not alone. Or the worst mom ever.

PS: Please just be a good neighbor. Whether that’s wearing a mask, social distancing, waving from across the street or through a window…just BE a good neighbor. We are all in this together. Less fighting, less shaming, less preaching, more loving. Please.

Will You Adopt Me? Late Night Thoughts From This Teacher/Mama's Heart

Have you ever been asked by a child, “Will you adopt me?”

I will NEVER forget when I was asked those four words. It brought back memories of when I opened our front door on Jackson Street close to downtown Louisville, and my favorite little boys stood there in front of me, eyes wide and full of anticipation—they said, “Our brother was killed last night.” Two different scenarios, but the feeling in my soul felt the same. What do you say? To a child with innocent eyes, whose heart is beyond broken; what HOPE can you offer them?

The moment in which I was asked if I could adopt is one with a lot of background. She was a former student, who I had as a fourth and fifth grader…Enter middle school, and she was back in a location where she was in need of treatment for some really poor choices she had made. After she confided in me the numerous [poor] decisions that she had made, including running away from her foster home, was when she said, “Mrs. Glass, will YOU adopt me?!”

I am always honest with my students. I don’t believe in sugar coating but at the same time, I also don’t believe in being MEAN. So in a kind but upfront tone, which she was very familiar with, I said, “Girl, what do you expect me to do with that information!? I have two small kids at home; how could this work with everything you JUST told me?” What do you think she said…….?

“But Mrs. Glass, I would BE good. I would be great for you and Mr. Glass.”

In March of 2019, there were over 10,000 children in the state of Kentucky in foster care. I tell you this not to overwhelm you, but to show you that the need for care of children is very REAL where I live. There is an epidemic of neglect, parental drug use, abandonment, abuse, and more. And this is on my heart, ALL THE TIME.

It was time for me to head home that day, so I smiled and told her that I hope she knows I love her, and that I really needed her to take care of herself. She smiled back and HAPPILY said, “Okay, Mrs. Glass. Tell Mr. Glass I said hi!”

Flash forward to the summer of 2019. We had been traveling a lot, and my mind was in that ‘I’m on vacation mode,’ which means I wasn’t in school or student mode. But she still crossed my mind often, and I was still praying for her a lot. And then I woke up to an email in my inbox.

“I am contacting you to see if you would like to be part of her support network OR consider her for adoption,” it read. It was her adoption recruiter who was reaching out, and she went on to say that this student had identified me as someone who she significantly looked up to, and I had a good relationship with.” Y’all. I felt WRECKED.

As I read, internally I was feeling a gazillion different things. I knew I (WE) couldn’t exactly say YES to adoption; we hardly knew (know) her, and there are a lot of risks when taking on that sort of responsibility with children who have suffered from psychiatric challenges, and who have had a LOT of trauma in their personal lives—especially when you have your own young kids to think about. But I at that moment knew without a doubt God was (is) doing SOMETHING in our lives with this young lady. Asa was so supportive from the beginning of this, as he always is (thank you, Lord for an amazing and empathetic husband!!) and he said, “Ash, we’ll figure it out. We can absolutely be part of her support system, whatever that may entail.” I quickly e-mailed her worker back and told her that I would 1.) check with my workplace and see what the protocol was and 2.) that we were definitely interested in helping however she thought we could.

Then, the rest of the summer it went kinda quiet. I thought about her daily, wondering how she was, WHERE she was, and praying that the Lord would continue to do HIS will and that I wouldn’t be selfish in any of this, or trying to be the hero. From the beginning she was someone I connected with, who I desperately wanted to help and who I saw as someone who could be SO successful…if she was with the right family. This is a teenage girl, who I honestly believe has never experienced what it means to BELONG. Her younger siblings were adopted all together, and she was left, yet again, alone. I don’t know if she knows what it feels like to be loved by a parent or an adult in general. Truth be told, I don’t know her well at ALL—but you know what?

GOD DOES.

Thankfully I was given the okay to be on her contact list, and that was the next step. And then a month or so ago, I received another inquiry from her case worker—this time she informed me that the student was going into a new foster family, but her team was wondering if we would consider being Respite Care for her should the family need it. Yet again, that was something Asa and I had to talk about, and ultimately we decided YES, we would. I told her worker that ideally, we would be able to meet with her and get to know her better before they hypothetically call us for that, so that’s where we have left off! I’ve been able to have several phone calls with this sweet teen this month and each one has been SO happy and positive. I always ask, “What’s GOOD?” and ask positively framed questions. I go soon to have an in person visit with her and I am SO excited.

Maybe wherever you are tonight, you wouldn’t mind saying a prayer for her? I can’t say names and I won’t ever talk about things that are protected through privacy laws, but God will know who you are talking about! She’s thirteen, has a heart of gold, and is just a kid who needs to be loved. I am praying that her current foster family is one of the GOOD ones, that she can be willing to BE loved by them, and that she is SAFE. I want so badly for her to choose success, to choose life, to choose hope.

Thanks, sweet friends. If you can’t tell, my heart tends to break for those who need rescuing. I recently started teaching high school and it was mind-blowing to me how many of my current students are also in foster care…one fourteen year old recently found out that he wasn’t going back to a family member to live with and he said, “You know…you could adopt me!” Oh if only I could, guys. If only I had all the time and resources in the world to give EVERY one of these kids a safe and loving home, I would in a heartbeat!