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.

The Giant Balancing Act of Marriage

True story, I've known at several points in my marriage that I really struck gold, but there is one memory forever lodged in my brain that I pray I'll never forget. It's a huge reason why we work well together and also why I don't completely fall apart.

It was the day I discovered that I was pregnant with our second child. My husband was cooking us lunch (he's the Chef, so duh he's a keeper!) and our seven month old son was napping. I saw those two straight lines on the Clearblue© test and a string of profanity escaped my mouth. I couldn't hold them in, just like I couldn't hold back the tears. I was terrified, panicked, feeling significantly inadequate and I screamed for him to come. 'What the (insert word of choice here) are we going to DO?!" I cried. Do you want to know what that man did?

He bent down, while his wife of five years still sat on the toilet, kissed the top of my head, and said, 'We're going to have a BABY!' as he beamed from ear to ear.

Was he panicking inside? Sure, a little. But he held it together, unlike me. He was the first to text our family (my brother thought it was a joke...) and he sat next to me as I called my mother crying. Maybe you think, "Well he probably wants a dozen babies so that's why he was so excited." He doesn't. WE don't (ha). He is steadfast in his reliance on our God and he's so stable. He didn't take the road of doubt, wondering how raising two children fifteen months apart from one another would turn out, he just believed.

When you ask your friends, 'How long have you been married?' what is the number in your head that represents "a long time?" Seven years may not sound like a lot, but now that I'm here, in that year, it sounds like a significant length of time to be a wife. I have a lot to learn, but man have we endured a lot over these years! One thing stays present though as time passes on. One thing that only gets better, more loving and more gracious: him.

Over our Christmas break this year, he and I sat in the living room drinking tea and talking quietly by the soft glow of our tree. Our kids go to bed around eight o'clock and while many nights I need to edit photos or work on blogging assignments, we make an effort to often just chill. (Who knew that having a full-length conversation when you are with your toddlers is almost impossible?! Between the, 'Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom--look!' and the 'Dad, Dad, Dad, Daddy!' discussing life goals and where we are at inwardly just ends up having to wait.) We were talking about how magical it had been with our kids and how their delight in all things Christmas had been so energizing. I started to say something like, "I can't wait to stay home with the kids before Pierson (our son) goes to Kindergarten," and in my head, I pictured that being another few years away. (My kids don't age in my heart; or at least I'm in denial that they do...) My husband quickly said, "Ash, next year is his last year at home before he starts school."

Um. What?! When our son was born I would romantically envision staying home with him at some point after maternity leave. "Oh my gosh," I said. "I have to quit my job." His response? It brought me straight back to my bathroom memory--his eyes staring dead into mine, his firm but gentle voice reassuring me that though I may not have it altogether, he does. He looked at me and said, "Alright, let's figure that out!"

From there the planning continued. I would never be able to take time off from teaching if I didn't have other paid hobbies (photography + writing), so we've been intentionally saving money and praying, a LOT. The fact is though, he's never faltered. While I'm the Dreamer and he's much more of a Realist, we balance each other out. I tend to feel emotions tenfold, and often I emotionally throw-up because I don't know how to process otherwise; he is so good at talking me through those moments, helping me breathe and think more steadily. If you asked him though, he would tell you he doesn't see six inches past his face. In other words, he plans what's for dinner tomorrow night and I'm scheming our horse farm. It doesn't mean we are completely opposite, it just means we need each other.

There's a give and a take, a push and a pull. He cooks, I clean much more thoroughly. I would like to say we rotate with laundry, but the truth is, we both hate it and end up doing thirty loads together ;)  When I'm at my breaking point with the kids, he jumps right in and vice versa. He is super kinesthetic and loves to work with his hands, while I am more artistic and enjoy creating things. Getting muddy with the kids is right up his alley, while I prefer to paint. 

 Before I got married, I never thought men like my husband existed. I was never treated (in relationships) the way that he treats me. I remember my Ex took me to watch My Friend Flicka in the theatre. I sat there and ugly girl cried through the ENTIRE thing. I've always been that way--you show me a horse movie, I am GOING to cry. It's what my heart beats for, dreaming of having my own will eternally be my happy place. But it annoyed him. "You are WAY too emotional," he said. Soon, I said a loud, 'Buh-BYE' to that relationship and shortly after, met my husband. I know you would love to hear another embrarassing moment of truth: HE took me to see Step Up in the theatre and there too, I began to openly weep. THIS time, because a character in it reminded me of my childhood best guy friend! (Justin, this one's for you, Mr. Blue Glasses, spiky hair kid!) Instead of calling me over emotional (or getting offended because it was a guy friend that I missed!), my husband put his arm around my shoulder and loved me anyway. I remember thanking him when we left, for not calling me overly emotional or pushing me away! 

I hope that from this you are either thinking of the many ways you and your spouse compliment each other, or you are inspired to find the right Godly man that God has in store for you. (Or you're thinking, "My Lord, this girl is crazy!" and that's okay too! No matter what happens, at the end of the day, I know who I am coming home to and good golly, my heart is in love! 

I choose him day in and day out and thank God he has chosen me too.  To Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre said,  “I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blessed—blessed beyond what language can express; because I am my husband’s life as fully as he is mine.” So right was she, that a husband and wife should compliment one another with their attributes. For the man to love his wife so truly and for the wife to love her husband so fondly.

Balance. It's essential and so vital to a happy and healthy marriage. If my husband said, "Okay let's go do that!" to EVERY dream I had? We would be so poor. And not very happy. And if I didn't help him see the possibilities that exist within certain goals, he may not be excited to dream with me.

What is one word of advice you could offer to couples? What gives and takes exist in your relationships? Focusing on the good, in what ways do you compliment one another? I would love to hear from you in the comments below or shoot me an e-mail to ashleyglassphotography {at} gmail.com

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.