Why I Stopped Telling My Son to be Big and Strong

Do you remember being small and wishing you weren't? (Okay, I'm tiny and desperately 'wish' to be even 5'3,'' but in this case I mean small as in young.)

In fifth grade I fell in love and wished I was old enough to date (WHAT?!?) In middle school, I wished for my high school years. Enter freshman year, where I found myself wishing to be a senior. I wished for a cell phone, for my drivers license, to be allowed to screw up royally (which trust me, I did), and then what happened? I just kept wishing.

Senior year I yearned for college. I wanted freedom and to land it big (which I didn't), in the horse racing industry. Cool, so I moved to Kentucky as SOON as I graduated high school. I enrolled in classes, decorated my dorm and got a job at Churchill Downs. Did my wishing stop?

You bet it didn't. I met a boy, quickly wanted to marry his dapper self, and three years later, wished for a baby. Well, God gave me a son and this son is the one who has made me want hit the giant red EMERGENCY STOP button on my life. Is that a thing?! It needs to be!

At not yet four, my son almost constantly uses the phrase, "When I get big and strong..." It is after all, what the standard motivational mantra has been:

You need to dinner because it will help you be big and strong.
You should play outdoors. Run, jump, have fun! It'll help you get big and strong.
Get good sleep.
Drink more water.
...Someday you'll be big and strong!

BAM! Enter a child who dreams about a time when he is no longer small. Is that mantra entirely to blame? No, his dad is 6'4'' and a strong dude. Of course our son wants to be just like him! He sees his Daddy mowing the lawn (and has been trying to help since he's been able to walk), building a giant playhouse with his bare hands (and a lot of nails!) He loves to help me bake, but isn't 'big enough' yet to crack the eggs into the batter. His mind constantly thinks and creates, but doesn't feel 'big enough' to put all of that into a physical product. Recently he looked up at my husband and said, "Daddy, I can't wait to be as tall as YOU!" My sweet man bent down, held his face and said, "Buddy, it's okay to be little right now. It's okay to be small," to which our son obviously disagreed.

We've all done this. We still do this. Here I am, approaching thirty and I wish I didn't look it. I wish not to have the dark circles, the mom skin, the mid-length hair refusing to grow, the bushy eyebrows, the (insert whatever you want to change here). My entire life I wished to be older and look at me now; I fear aging, I wish I could go back in time, I wish my twenties weren't almost OVER.

If time could be frozen, I would consider doing it. Momentarily. To just bottle up and keep on a shelf, all the magic of these fleeting childhood years. But I suppose that in itself is another wish, isn't it? And perhaps we should just stop wishing for a while, and focus on being present. 

My son, you are already so big and so strong. You are so perfect, just the way you are. Life, it is so good right now. You're leaving Toddlerhood and will soon be embarking into Boyhood. You ARE big and strong, so please just be YOU. The baby that I wished for, the boy that I will eternally adore.

Dear Mom- A Mothers Day Tribute

Photo by: Jana Glass 

You've always said that you love me. When I was younger, I used to say, "I love you too, Mom," and continue on about my days. You dropped me off at summer camps, where I was surrounded by my friends, and I never quite comprehended the big tears that rolled down your cheeks as you quietly said your good-bye. You corrected me, discipled me, and continued to love me, even and especially when I screwed up--time, after time, after time. 

And then something happened, where it all came full circle and my entire life just made sense. Martin Luther King Day 2012. I didn't feel great, I had been super emotional, and kind of as a joke, I took a cheap pregnancy test. Lo and behold, the lines weren't anywhere near being faint and they screamed, PREGNANT, as I put my head into my hands, beginning to cry. Nathan (my oldest brother), was in the hospital and going back and forth between doing okay and then being critical. You were exhausted and tired and your heart ached as it spent hours wondering and worrying for him. I called you, but couldn't even speak... my giant sobs were uncontrollable and you knew without me ever saying. "Oh, Ashley," you sighed. 

You knew. I had been at your house a few weeks prior and you had sheepishly asked, "Are you sure you aren't pregnant, Ash?" because of my obvious hormonal disposition. But Pierson was seven months old, I hadn't yet had a cycle, and there was just no way-- but you knew. 

I've realized that this pretty much sums up the last twenty-eight years of my life. That through all of my stages and phases, you just knew. As a teeny, tiny little girl, you taught me how to love Jesus. You took me to every gymnastic class, ballet recital, piano lesson, t-ball tournament, volleyball practice and horse riding lesson-- as I shifted and sorted through my strengths and weaknesses, I believe in your heart you thought, "Ashley, I know." 

There were moments in our relationship that I thought I wanted to stay with Gram (your mom) across the field and not come home for a while. There were things I wanted to run away from, arguments I wanted to forget and situations that I felt completely embarrassed by because after all, I was a pretty dumb kid. But yet you held your head high, rolled your shoulders back, opened your arms open wide, and made the choice to love me; time, and time again. 

How many boys did I fall in love with before meeting my husband? How many times were you reluctant to let me hang out with so-and-so, and yet you prayed in your heart, 'She'll be okay.' I used to run down our dirt road; sprinting full course ahead, angry and frustrated and sad and confused--the youngest of two older brothers, I felt alone. I didn't think anyone understood me, that anyone could relate to my hopes and dreams, that no one could ever feel as much as I did. 

And then it all finally made sense. 

The day I learned I was having a daughter changed my life. For several months before, I despised being pregnant again so soon. I feared what going into the grocery store with two kids would look like, or how I would climb up our steep steps to the front door with two on my hips. And then at our gender reveal party, I bit into a pink cupcake and you were there, celebrating from afar via FaceTime with Dad and Nate and it was so clear in your eyes--you knew. 

You knew my world would be forever changed. You knew that soon I would be staring into my own baby girl's eyes, and in them, I would see us. I would forever smell your perfume, feel your back tickle quietly lulling me to sleep, feel the strength and power of your words...all from HOLDING her. It's not that I didn't feel these things when I held my son, it's just that this time, it would be different. All of those times I pushed you away and didn't want you to kiss my cheek...well, you had to have just known. That sooner or later, God would give me my own baby girl, and with that gift, I would hold even tighter to you. 

I am so sorry for the mean things I've said. For the absolute grief I put you through during my adolescent years. For scaring you with situations I put myself in, for ever lying or hurting your feelings. As I hold my baby girl, her legs sprawl out around me and she tickles my face with her still toddler hands. She holds on to me for dear life and every single night, it's, 'Mommy Put Me Down,' that she requests. Every ounce of her demands me, but little does she know, every ounce of me demands her in return. Somewhere in the middle, did you know that my heart equally needs YOU? MY mother. My flesh and blood, the heart that for so long, beat in unison with my own. 

Life scares me. Letting go of my children and watching them grow, well, it's terrifying. I don't have hardly any answers, and four years in, I am still so new to this role of Motherhood. But you are there, six hours away-- praying, thinking, texting me and calling, and from there you are smiling, because you know. 

You know that it only gets better. That my heart only loves more, and more, and more. You know that I will endure heartache that I cannot even fathom, that I will trip and fall and get back up to repeat the entire cycle all over again. And you know that you raised a daughter whose heart now beats for her own flesh and blood, but who also needs someone along the way: you. 

It may have taken longer then you could have hoped for. I may not live in the same state as you anymore, and I don't get to see you NEARLY as often as I would like. But I finally understand, I finally get it--those tears that you cried when I thought the goodbye's were so simple. The 'I love you's' that you've promised since the day I was born. It all adds up now. I am yours, and you are mine and what a blessing my title of Mother will continue to be, as it gives me glimpses into the amazing goodness that is your heart. 

I love you, Mama. Happy Mothers' Day.

From Baby to Boy

Big fat tears streamed down his sad face. I had scolded him a few minutes prior because he had just spent the last fifteen minutes whining, following me around, and repeating a request that I had already said, 'no' to, repeatedly. I asked him to please go upstairs, to sit down for a minute and take a break. When I came to talk to him and saw that face, I stretched my arms out wide.

"Buddy, what is wrong?" I asked. 
A genuine voice answered me and he said, "I want to be best friends with you, Mom. I need to be near you."

This child, my first-borne. The one who turns four next month and will say good-bye to his toddlerhood...and right now, his biggest worry is that we aren't best friends.

"Baby, Mommy was really tired of you whining when I had asked you to stop. Daddy and I are working hard to clean the house and I gave you plenty of other options for fun. I will always be your best friend, but I also need you to listen," I responded. He hugged my neck tightly and I breathed in his familiar scent. The top of his head still smells like 'baby' to me--his soft skin still brings me back to his newborn days. He is so much of what 'home' is for me. But he's gone from an infant who relied on me solely for nourishment and growth, to a child whose heart longs for an actual friendship.

There are some days that the requests wear me out. Come bed time, this mama is more than ready to take a hot shower, change into pajamas, and decompress however I want to.
-One more drink, Mom.
-Let's read just one more book.
-I need another hug and kiss. No, I need ANOTHER hug and kiss!
-Come pick me up, Mom.
-Mommy put me down.
-Tickle my back, Mom. No, tickle my arm. Wait, tickle my nose. (What?!)

Guess what I not only know, but I inwardly wrestle with just thinking about? The inevitable truth that this toddler will grow into a young boy, who will transition to a teen, and then an adult. Chances are, he'll become a husband and later a father. Everyone promises, "You'll love every single stage!" I believe you. But he won't fit so perfectly in my arms anymore. And then what? (Scratch that, recently I tried to read to him in the rocking chair that I used to nurse him from, and his long and gangly legs drooped over the sides and his body stretched more than half-way down mine. We moved to his bed and I thought, 'When did you get this BIG?')

Pretty soon, he won't want me to put him to bed. He won't want me to read, because he'll be the one reading instead. The lullabies that I sing will eventually seem too childish, the sleepy-time glasses may at some point fade away. I won't be putting him into cute and cozy jammies. He will no longer demand to sleep with Lion. He won't beg me for another hug and kiss, he won't get his feelings so deeply hurt when I ask him to go to another floor of the house--he won't worry if his MOM is his best friend.

These days are fleeting and I'm still trying to convince myself that I will be okay as we move on to the next phases. His love for Little Einsteins and Curious George will be replaced with PG-13 movies and asking to go to the theatre with friends. His need to incessantly be by MY side will switch to a girlfriend's. It will be her hand that he'll want to hold and her phone ringing as soon as he comes in from school (where he will probably have just spent ALL day with her).

Each and every year has been encompassed with beautiful memories and stories. I prayed for my son before he was born and I promise to continue. I know that as time progresses, my heart somehow finds a way to love him more and more; so trust me, I believe you when you say that I will love it all. And on my hardest days, the ones that I want to hurry through his bedtime, enforce the 'one book' rule, and insist that his dad be the one to put him down--I will remember his voice:

"Mommy, we are best friends, remember?" 

Yes, sweet son, I will forever be your very best friend.

Precious in His Sight

And he said, "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven." -Matthew 18:3

I've had the blessing of wearing my Mom title for almost four years and there's quite a few things I've learned. The biggest and most mind-blowing one though, has been this:

My children know how to love and they love SO well.

My son Pierson will turn four in June, and his baby sister Reese, is two. As toddlers; teeny, tiny little humans, they are ready and willing to love just about anyone. My oldest brother Nathan, thirty-three, was born with Cerebral Palsy. He resides with my parents and has many other special needs that factor in with his disability. His speech is altered immensely, and because of his extreme Osteoporosis, his movement is unstable. He loves to play on the computer and when he gets excited, he jumps up and down and flaps his hands back and forth. He loves music and when people read to him, that is one of his deepest love languages. He is loud, he is different, and yet by my children who can't quite understand, he is loved.

Since being able to form prayer requests on his own, Pierson never leaves Nathan out. He thanks God for him each night and prays that he won't get sick (a dangerous and common occurrence for my brother!) When we are in Michigan, he watches Nathan closely, but doesn't stare in a rude or disrespectful way, he is sincerely curious of his Uncle. Reese never hesitates and gives him 'head hugs' (Nathan's favorite way to show affection) and she eagerly tells him, "Love you!!!"

When I was a child, I was super protective and defensive of my brother. We would go into stores or restaurants and there were always people who would literally gawk at the site of him. Any chance I got, I hissed, "Stop STARING!" at them. In middle school, a boy I was talking to said, "No, your other brother," and I flat out punched him in the arm. He wasn't even trying to be offensive, he just didn't know how to word, 'your brother with special needs,' or perhaps didn't think he needed to. Flash forward twenty years, I'm still the baby sister, but now I'm also Mom--and it's my job to continue teaching my children how to love everyone, even and especially those who appear different than themselves.

So what will happen when I introduce my kids to their family member who is transgendered? What will their reaction be when they see that person, who was born a man, who they know as a man, who now identifies as a woman? This is no small discussion. This is not a simple conversation, nor one that I can even remotely come up with scenarios about. At this time, I'm just not ready. In my head, I want them to be a little older and to be able to rationalize complete sentences and questions that they may have for us. Pierson is somewhat of an anxious kid, and sometimes I worry that this introduction will scare him. That he will fear more of the unknown and things that he cannot articulate at such a young age. At two and three, our kids are just learning about body parts in general and the difference between boy and girl, man and woman. But I think that I know in my heart, deep down, that no matter when it happens or in what circumstance, Pierson will just love.

My husband and I love the Lord and we strive in every aspect and area of our lives, to be teaching our children to do the same. Unless you change and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. In our twenties and thirties, a lot of life has happened to us. We've witnessed drug use, we've been around people who party too hard, we know stories of abuse, neglect, abandonment. We know the rights and wrongs that we want to live our lives by, and we know what we believe. We have a Biblical upbringing and understand what the Scriptures mean. We are bombarded with social media, with hateful posts, with gossip and with adults disagreeing over how life should be lived.

Our childlike innocence therefore, has been altered. We see black and white but we also see shades of grey. As adults, sometimes loving others doesn't come quite as easily, it becomes more of a choice. We have to choose to love. Many people don't understand my brothers' needs; I'm sure to some he seems strange or abnormal. But Jesus created him and I believe that He made Nathan the way he is for many reasons; one of them to show others how to love someone who is different. And because I believe in Jesus, I choose to love the rest of the population who is different as well. This doesn't just mean handicapped and transgendered people--this includes so much more. I make the choice to love those who look different, act different, who have completely opposing political views, who love the same sex, who aspire to be a different gender, who don't believe in my God, and those who heck, may not even like ME, at all.

Because I believe in these things, I will constantly strive to teach my children to do the same. There should not be judgment, there should not be any reason to love anyone less or differently. I am so far from perfect, and so are you. I'm in need of so much healing, as are you. I may not quite be ready to introduce my very young children to our family member as a she, but I'm confident that when we do, they will have innocent and open hearts.

You know reading this, that there has been excessive conversation about the transgendered community. But why? Why must we focus on a minority when we ourselves, have so many specks in our own hearts? I don't have any answers about what will happen, about the 'what IF' so many fear--if bathrooms in public places will change, if dressing rooms change, if locker rooms in schools will change, IF... But I believe that Jesus would never waste His time arguing or trying to prove His point, on ANY worldly topic. I know that He is the answer to our brokenness, and that loving every single person, is the very first step. And you know what else? He chooses you? I choose you.

How will you choose to love? With a childlike innocence, with an open heart and open arms? What an example my own children are, and how I pray that I continuously allow for their life lessons to shape and grow mine. Together, we await His Kingdom.