merry christmas

On Christmas day our small clan will heading out.
We will be boarding a plane for the east coast.
Pray for all the other travellers that will also be boarding that plane.
Addison has the attention span of 2.73 seconds.
Jack likes to repeatedly kick the seat in front of him.
Will has already told me many times it takes too long
to get to Grandma and Grandpa's house on the plane.
It could be a long trip.
But it is worth the crazy to get to spend 10 days with family.
So this tired supergirl is signing off until the new year.
A new year. A year full of hopes. Dreams. Adventures. Laughter.
And hopefully, wide varieties of dark chocolate.
God bless each one of you as you hunker down these next few weeks,
soaking up family and friends, eating tasty treats,
and resting in the knowledge that God is with you.
May grace and peace fill your homes.
Merry Christmas, tsgs!

a christmas thought

Faithchick blog post for December.

Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of real joy
amidst the glorious holiday cheer
and rapidly expanding Christmas card list.
We get wrapped up in wish lists and scheduling and 2 for 1 sales.
When really, the whole reason we are celebrating so heartily is because
we are no longer trying to navigate life and its problems by ourselves.
We are not living life without a purpose, without a hope.
When we peel back the layers of Christmas,
when we push past the 14 1/2 trips to the mall,
the kid's musicals, the parties and the eggnog,
when we peer past the needs for ipods, puffy jackets,
shimmery lip gloss and the wii with the cool bowling game,
we recognize what we really truly need for Christmas,
and for life in general, is to not be alone.
One night, long ago, far from here,
God broke through the heavens with an answer.
With a purpose. With a person. With himself. A baby.
Tiny, squalling, wrapped in cloth, lying in a feed trough.
His name is Christ the Lord. Emmanuel.
And like the angels, we can say....Glory to God in the Highest.
Peace on earth. Goodwill toward men. Because God is with us.
And it does not get any more joyful than that.

a little more holiday excitement

As we are winding our way down on 2007 we thought maybe we should
visit the emergency room one more time. Just for fun.
So yesterday afternoon, just as I was pulling the 14th load of
laundry of the day out of the dryer, Will and Addie obliged.
Yes, they did.
They were playing a game of snap-the-sticky-wierd-gumball-machine toy
towards each other and Addie let fly with said sticky toy,
whereas it popped Will in the eyeball.
(Maybe Will's crazy eyeball dream was a premonition
about his own upcoming eyeball trauma.)
A blood curdling scream went up. Towels went flying.
Will couldn't open his eye and was rubbing it violently.
Addison was looking at Will like, "What's the big deal?
Why don't you man up and take the pain?"
And so the rest of the late afternoon was spent talking to the nurse,
dropping Addison off at with Scott at his afternoon job
and lounging in the emergency room. For goodness sakes.
After we got to the emergency room, Will bucked up considerably,
claiming he could see, could we go home now?
Of course, we couldn't. There were more adventures to be had.
They put us in a room and the doctor came into examine Will.
He was a young doctor, laid back, chatting up Will.
But as he proceeded to stick a little paper tag into Will's eye,
laced with fluorescent dye, to see if there were any cuts on the eye,
Will went nuts. Screeching and flailing.
I had Will in a full body hold, clutching his head and legs.
Will was screaming so loudly he scared the people who were there
with actual life threatening injuries.
He then proceeded to kick the doctor in the privates.
To which I said,"Oh, I'm so sorry," grabbing uselessy at the Will's legs
and at which time the nice young doctor,
ceased chatting and said very tersely,
"Let me look at that eye, Will."
It all gets very dicey when people's nether regions are involved.
Which is understandable, since just before the doctor had been offering
popsicles and calming banter, and then was so violently rebuffed.
And so the eye was examined, order was restored and Will's eye
WAS JUST FINE. Of course, it was. It was bruised but not cut.
And fine upstanding doctor that he was, he still brought Will a popsicle.
Now that is following the hippocratic oath, people.
Putting the care of others before yourself in the practice of good medicine.
And I got to pay $100 for a red popsicle.
I believe last time we went to the emergency room for
Will's-is-it-a-concussion-no-it's-a-black-eye,
I paid $100 for a sticker.
Looks like we are moving up in the world, tsgs.
Merry Christmas to us!

to christmas card or not to christmas card?

That is the question.
Do you send out cards? Do you not send out cards?
Do you gather the family for the heinous family photo
with weeping babies and petulant toddlers?
Do you price several photo websites to see how
much it will cost to send these heinous photos to a few
friends or do you feed a small 3rd world nation Christmas dinner instead?
Because the cost of printing the cards and the postage for
sending the cards is roughly the same as buying turkey dinner
for everyone in outer mongolia.
And really, you must send a photo because if you don't
people will call you and say, "What do you look like?"
or "Why are you sending Christmas cards without pictures?
We want pictures. We need art for our fridge."
Or maybe that is just me. I love cards with pictures.
And because each year I paper the side of my fridge with those pictures.
I have been having this conversation with a few close friends.
Do people really appreciate the cards when they get them in the mail?
Do they really understand the blood, sweat and tears that went into
that cheery wintry scene by the flocked tree and fake fire?
Yes, they do. At least I do.
Christmas is the one time I gleefully enjoy perusing my mail.
Sometimes there are actually more Christmas cards than bills.
And that is something to cheer about.
Last year, we fashioned a newsy epistle
and printed out our own Christmas cards.
Then we stuffed them and sealed them.
Somewhere in the Christmas mayhem, card momentum was lost
and there they sat on a forlorn shelf above the dryer
until March when I finally threw them away.
This year I decided it must be done.
Because there are actually people whom I love who may not know
I have 3 children, so we figure let's send them a picture and shock them.
So this year I found a great deal on postcards.
With the help of my niece, Aly, on-line customer service live chat Patrick,
and on the phone customer service Patrick (same Patrick as above),
the glorious Christmas postcards were achieved.
Other than the fact that I don't have near as many friends as I thought,
and I WAY over ordered, I spent today addressing said postcards and
they are heading out via the US postal service,
hopefully, to spread a little Christmas cheer
and let all my friends know that I now have 3 kids.
Someone commented that you can't see all of Jack's face
and the other children are looking off to the side.
It's a candid sort of shot taken at the beach.
I say, "Look here, no one is crying and Scott and I look half way decent."
And since I am paying for them, this is the shot we are going with.
So sorry to outer mongolia on behalf of the Aughtmon family.
There is no turkey dinner headed your way.
This year we're sending out Christmas cards.

finis

In case you don't know, finis means "finished or done" in french.
I know this because I took one year of french.
I also know how to say I am 15 years old.
J'ai quinze ans. (the age I was when I took french)
And we are going to the beach.
Nous allons a la plage.
I am writing this post because my first ever book,
Confessions of a Tired Supergirl:
Revelations of Grace, Imperfection and Daily Living,
is finis. It really is.
Except for all of the millions of hours of editing left to be done.
But the creative process, the soul searching, the banging my
head against the laptop and beseeching God for words to fill the pages,
that part is done. Gloria Dios! (Glory to God in Spanish)
I also took a semester of Spanish in college.
My niece, Alyson, flew down here this past Tuesday and has
been taking care of my little ones so I could hole up at Starbucks
and finish the book. And can I tell you that I love her?
Several times this week I have told her she is magic.
She is. And somehow it seems fitting that my first children's
story I ever wrote, was written 16 1/2 years ago, when I went
to meet Alyson for the first time. She made me an aunt.
Her birth inspired me to weave the tale of Nysola,
a trilly (fairy type person) and her escapades. We've come full circle.
Because now here she is all these years later
helping me realize my dream.
As she built a fort with my kids, I penned the last of my 43,000 words
and let out a yell in Starbucks. Yep, a yell. Like this.
WHOOO-HOOO-HOOOO! Along with a fist pumping the sky.
Because it is finis. And I gave a few people in Starbucks a chuckle.
So today we are packing the kids into the car
and taking off to Santa Cruz to celebrate. Oh, ya!
Nous allons a la plage.

sparkle mint giveaway winner

Happy Saturday, tsgs!
I have to say after reading the nominations that
really every single person nominated deserved the giveaway.
It would have been fun to give them to everyone.
It's neat to see how many incredible tsgs there are out there.
And if I were Bill Gates or Oprah, everyone who nominated someone
would also get the giveaway. Plus a car. A car that smelled like mint.
But all dreaming aside,
the random integer generator has done it's random work.
Here are the results for the cookie-lipgloss-ornament-foot-cream giveaway!

Random Integer Generator
Here are your random numbers:

5
Timestamp: 2007-12-15 17:01:12 UTC

Comment #5 - Jessi's sister Betsy is the winner!
Yea for Betsy! Anyone with 4 kids is a rockstar in my eyes.
And to make it even more fun, Jessi, you get to win, too!
(Also 4 kids and a rockstar!)
Because shouldn't Christmas be full of mint and surprises?
You can e-mail your addresses to sfaughtmon@comcast.net
so I can ship them right out to you.
Blessings on you, tired supergirls!

happy 100th post sparkle-mint i love my friend giveaway

This is the official 100th post of confessions of a tired supergirl.
Can you believe it? Me neither.
And so on this hallowed auspicious occasion
and in the spirit of Christmas- because I love Christmas
I am hosting a giveaway full of sparkly and minty goodness.
A box of the highly revered Candy Cane Joe Joe's,
(the trader joe's cookies of the gods)
A squeezy tube of my favorite mentha lip shine except - frosty style,
(mint-infused for fresh breath and with a hint of holiday
iridescence for festive looking lips...it says so on the tube)
A larger squeezy tube of holiday mint foot cream
(Do we not love Target's dollar section? Yes, we do, tsgs)
And last but not least some oh so glittery dazzling snowflake ornaments
(plastic, of course, so you need not fear your children shattering them.)

And the I love my friend part is that you get to nominate
someone you love to get this mint lovers giveaway.
Just put your favorite tired superfriend's name in the comments and
tell why you think she should be the one to receive this bundle
of peppermint holiday cheer in the mail.
Could anything be more fun than giving your friend a gift she
doesn't expect...in the mail?
Do we not all love mail? At least, any mail that is not bills?
This giveaway will be open until Friday night, December 14th, 11:59 p.m.
The winner will be picked at random and then the nominator
will be asked to e-mail me the nominatee's address.
So she can get her sparkly surprise.
Oh, it will be a merry Christmas! Yes, it will.

ps your friend must not live in the sahara or other parts unknown
to the United States.....Santa only delivers minty goods in country.

o christmas tree

Scott and I gave ourselves a Christmas tree ultimatum.
Either we were getting a tree this past weekend or none at all.
We leave for DC in a couple weeks and the
"get maximum enjoyment out of a dying tree in your living room"
window is rapidly closing in.
And I say dying.... because I mean dying.
Other people know how to keep their Christmas trees alive.
We are tree killers - plain and simple.
Last year we jumped the gun and got our tree right after Thanksgiving.
A week into December it was drier than the desert.
We begged people (children) not to brush up against it
lest all the needles fall off in a brownish green heap.
The year before, so many needles fell off,
each morning Scott and I had to do Christmas tree clean-up
and sweep up all the the needles before the boys entered the room.
Somehow in the dying process, the fir branches developed the ability
to pierce the tender skin of ones soles with their air dried sharpness.
This is why they are referred to as pine NEEDLES
and not pine MARSHMALLOWS.
But the thing is that I LOVE Christmas trees.
The real ones. The ones that smell "piney".
And I love them strung with white lights
and loaded down with a mish mash of ornaments.
My favorites are the vintage ornaments from the 50's and 60's.
Small glass globes painted in pastels,
the colors faded from years of tree trimming.
Addison also favors these. He is trying to see
if he can break all of these by Tuesday.
He plucks them from the tree, throws them like a ball and says "broke".
Pray for his sweet little soul as his mommy grows so very angry.
Then there are the kid's paper ornaments they made in preschool,
that I'm sure the children will grow to loathe but which I adore,
along with the myriad of ornaments we have been gotten over the years.
The clear glass globe we got on our honeymoon
filled with sand and seashells.
The silver picture frame ornaments filled with pictures of our nieces
and nephews from over 5 years ago - I have yet to update them.
The fat white papier mache stars with tinsel around the edges
that spoke to my sparkly soul from the hallowed halls of Target this year.
And that green smell, the smell of winter and presents, that fills the room.
A fake tree just won't do. I know it would be more humane.
One less tree groveling for water in the parched land of our home.
But we simply must have a real one, plucked from the earth,
to really celebrate the advent season.
We went with a noble fir this year.
We are hoping it is a hearty breed...lest the Aughtmons kill again.

fa-la-la-la-la

I can hardly wait to pop in the Christmas music after Thanksgiving.
I love Christmas music.
The Jackson 5 Christmas album in its entirety.
Nothing works for me like 70's afros and jingle bells.
Harry Connick Jr. singing Ave Maria.
Take 6 and their incredible licks singing Amen.
Fred Hammond, James Taylor, Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir.
Oh and do not even get me started on Amy Grant's christmas album.
I lived and breathed that Christmas album in jr. high.
First of all, I wanted to look like her.
Second of all, I wanted to be her.
Third of all, I memorized every single warble, every intonation,
every tiny note variation in EVERY SINGLE SONG.
(not to mention the fake conversations she had while singing Sleighride
yelling to fake people, "Hurry up, you guys! Come on, let's Go!"
I yelled right along with her!)
My sisters, Erica, Jenny and I and my cousin Beth,
were required to sing Tender Tennessee Christmas every Christmas,
for our grandparents, aunts and uncles and gazillion cousins.
We had never been to Tennessee but we felt real tender about it.
Yes, we did. Amy, did you know you brought such joy? Well, you did.
No one knew how to sing Emmanuel like my cousin Beth and I.
It started out all soft and demure, Emmanuel, Emmanuel and then BAM!
WONDERFUL COUNSELOR! LORD OF LIFE! LORD OF ALL!
Out came the hair brushes, the white girl dancing, the flipping of
high puffy eighties hair from side to side.
Oh the glory of that song. Oh, Amy, how we love you.
And speaking of Amy Grant brings me to Michael W. Smith.
Because I also hearted Michael W. Smith in the eighties.
And we must call him Michael W. Smith lest we confuse him with other
demi-gods of the 80's named Michael: Michael Jackson or Michael J. Fox.
He wrote the most singable songs.
I know a good portion of you sang Friends are friends forever
with some tears in your eyes clutching at your BFFs.
I remember having a Michael W. Smith album
where he was about 18 with a full beard sitting in amongst some
big argyle shapes while he was wearing an argyle sweater vest.
Here it is because I thought you must see Michael in all his
80's funky loveliness. Notice the socks, tsgs, notice the socks.
Michael doesn't play. He pairs argyle with argyle.

Argyle you ask? It was the eighties, people.
People lived and died for argyle. Need I remind you?
And now Michael W. Smith has a Christmas album.
It's a Wonderful Christmas.
And he still writes great songs. It is not so sing-songy.
It is more like a fully orchestrated soundtrack of a Christmas musical.
And I LOVE Christmas musicals. White Christmas, anyone?
At the beginning of it, I want to perform a ballet.
With wide leaps and a pouffy ballerina skirt.
(This I know you would love to see.)
And then at one point, children join in singing, which brings to mind
all of the millions of kids choir rehearsals I participated in growing up.
And then it moves onto a song with bagpipes and drumcorps,
and for goodness sakes, it is so grand and sweeping I want to cry,
because bagpipe music makes me weep in general.
And then there is a boys choir.
Boys choirs make me want to cry, too. I don't know why.
Maybe it is because I have three little boys and I love when they sing.
But all of this to say, if you love movie soundtracks, if you love
crying, if you love Christmas, if you love the feeling that your heart
may surely burst through your chest from the joy of the season,
if you love the poignancy of bagpipes and you wore argyle in the 80s,
you might want to add this cd to your Christmas repetoire.
Thank you, Michael W. Smith.
For the argyle and for your Christmas album offering.

It really is a wonderful Christmas.

one of THOSE days

So I woke up this morning with a kink in my neck.
And when I say "kink" I mean, I have to keep my head cocked
at a stationary 45 degree angle, in order to keep from yelling out in pain.
Today was my day to sub in Will's class for one of the helpers.
It is very difficult to watch 20 four year olds while having a kinked neck...
they are quick little whippersnappers.
Lucky for me it rained today, if I had had to watch
them on the playground, I would have been a gonner.
It has been one of those days in general, tsgs.
One of those can-we-just-be-done-with-it-already days,
where the stress seems to gather in that trapezoidal area
right between your shoulder blades.
The "kink" is just the stressful cherry on top.
You never realize how much you enjoy turning your head quickly,
with speed and precision until you can't turn your head quickly,
with speed and precision.
Rapid head turning is one of those under appreciated gifts in life.
Several times today the children have done things that have
caused me to snap my head very quickly.
Loud noises. Fighting. Crying.
Addison falling into the tub, fully clothed, in footie pjs.
The children just do not understand that when one's
mother has a "kink", they must be on their best behavior.
Scott tried to help explain this to them, using Star Wars lingo.
He created a "kink-in-the-neck" word picture.
"Imagine Mommy is like C-3PO. She can only turn from side to side,
like this...Master Luke, where are you, Master Luke?"
They thought this was hysterical.
Me? Not so much. Even now as Scott came to ask me a question,
it took me a full minute to rotate around to look at him in the doorway.
By then, he was in the other room.
I'm off to self medicate with a cup of tea, a piece of chocolate
and a shot of Nyquil.
Things can only get better from here on out.

waiting

Today we got an advent calendar. I love advent calendars.
Although, I do believe the little chocolate treats behind
the tiny paper doors grow more waxy as the years go by.
Either that or my palate is growing more sophisticated.
But I digress.
I think the reason I love advent calendars is because
during my childhood, they were the one redeeming factor of
the long and arduous wait for Christmas day.
25 days in December before you get to open your presents?
To a child that seems like a lifetime.
But each door opened, each Christmas shaped chocolate eaten,
symbolized one day closer to the DAY OF ALL DAYS.
I remember asking my mom repeatedly,"Is it today?"
To which she would answer,
"No, we have (blank) days left until Christmas."
The night before Christmas was almost unbearable.
I'm pretty sure I got in trouble most Christmas Eves.
The air was electric. We were wild with anticipation.
Boundless goodies and toys were just around the corner.
Going to sleep was near impossible. CHRISTMAS WAS COMING!
And I must say that I am no better at waiting these days.
I am anxious for answers, dreams, people, vacations, etc. to arrive.
Just last week, when we were waiting for my sister to arrive
from Oregon, I could have 27 run nervous laps around the house
from all the excitement welling up within me.
Scott said I am as bad as the kids. I have a child like spirit.
That's why I love chocolate and presents so much.
I think I have spent a great deal of my life waiting.
Waiting for my permanent teeth. Waiting for my birthdays.
Waiting to get married. Waiting for my babies to be born.
Waiting to be published. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
And then there all the mundane hours of waiting.
Waiting for laundry to get done. Waiting at stop lights.
Waiting in line at the grocery. Waiting for checks to clear.
Waiting for kids to finish going to the bathroom.
You will absolutely not believe how much time I have spent
knocking on bathroom doors asking,
"Are you done in there, for goodness sake?"
So much waiting in this life.
My friend, Lindsey, reminded me today that life is found in the waiting.
Not so much in the big events but in the in between stretches.
In the tired supergirl verse, Isaiah 40:29-31, it says,
"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength..."
In other translations it says,
"Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strenth..."
And I have never before thought those two things could be the same.
Because hope seems like such a positive, uplifting thing,
and waiting seems like this long horrible angst ridden thing.
I am full of hope for good things but I am tired of the waiting.
But I am beginning to see that they go hand in hand.
We wait in hope. We can wait because we have hope.
We wait on God's timing because our hope is in Him and Him alone.
It is the very essence of Christmas.
All that waiting for the Messiah. All that hoping. All that believing.
And then there it was. Christmas. God with us.
I am sure I will never like the waiting.
It is not in me. It wasn't in me when I was 5. It isn't now.
And yet I am filled with hope for all that tomorrow holds.
Prayers answered, wishes granted, friendships relished and
of course, one more waxy piece of chocolate.
2 down....only 23 more to go.