i'm baaack!

I got back this afternoon from my writer's retreat.
My friend, Rene, and I had a fantastic time despite the hoopty ride we drove in.
Of course, Tuesday morning we did have to drive with both of our heads sticking out the windows since the defrost didn't work and we couldn't see out of the car.
We yelled back and forth across the windshield,"Am I okay?" "You're okay!" "I'm not going to hit anything?" "No you're not going to hit anything...I don't think."
"Am I still okay?" "You're still okay!"
Until the sun melted through the fogginess of the windshield.
All went well. Even when we had to stand up and read something we had written after dinner the first night. All 70 or so of us had to read a paragragh of our best stuff.
IN FRONT OF ALL THE AUTHORS. ALL THE OTHER AUTHORS. ALL THE PEOPLE HAVE PUBLISHED GAGILLION BOOKS AND WHO WRITE FOR A LIVING.
Not that I was nervous or anything. My finger tips usually make little sweat puddles
on the tablecloth for no apparent reason.
I never knew I had sweat glands in my fingers until this weekend.
I,actually, thought I might keel over from fingertip perspiration
while standing in front of everyone.
The closer the microphone got to me the more my poor digits perspired.
You would have thought I was getting ready to enter a combat zone with
the way my calves were shaking and how I could feel my heartbeat in my palms.
My fear was that palpable. Jesus is going to have to help me, people.
Because if I continue to write and I have to do readings of what I write,
it will not bode well if I have a heart attack or small seizure in front of the audience.
That is off putting.
But other than those things, we had some fun and we felt frou frou and shi shi.
Because all of our meals were served to us with multiple cutlery
and we ate salads with goat cheese and tiny figs
and we had robes to lounge in in our rooms.
Our rooms were housed in little bungalows. So that made us feel even more fancy.
Every once in a while, it does a tired supergirl good to feel fancy.
And to not have to do dishes and laundry. Can I get an "amen"?
So now I am back in my own bungalow. It's not so fancy.
But three little boys were pretty excited to see me when I drove up.
We immediately had to go out and buy pumpkins to carve.
Because we are getting ready for the big night tomorrow.
There is great excitement in the air. I may have to wear the wicked witch socks.
Addie coudn't stop climbing out of his crib tonight due to this excitement.
"I go Halloween!" he said. "Get back in bed!" I said.
He was thoroughly disgusted with me.
So all that to say it was good to feel fancy for a few days
and it is even better to feel missed and now I am looking forward to
stealing all the mini snickers from my children's halloween candy tomorrow night.
Because that is my job as mother.
Can I get an "amen"?

weekend fun

This past Friday afternoon, Scott's mom, showed up and shooed us out the door for a overnight trip to San Francisco. She is hands down, the best mother-in-law ever.
She shooed us out the door because we have been married twelve years as of tomorrow and that is nothing to laugh at. I had a few thoughts about being Scott's girl for the last 12 years that I shared on Faithchick in case you are curious. I would be if I were you.
Scott and I headed up to the city and painted the town and by that I mean we ate as many different places that we could in the shortest amount of time possible.
Thai...Peruvian...Indian. It was a quick getaway but it was fun.
And it was needed because I realize mostly Scott and I talk about homework
and discipline and grocery shopping and bills and for heavens sakes,
someone needs to take the trash out. But we actually had some time to sit and talk
about dreams and hopes and concerns and what food should we order that
I don't have to cook that hails from a different corner of the globe.
Peruvian rotisserie chicken? Green curry with jalapenos? Garlic naan?
My pants are real tight now but the conversation was stimulating and it was worth every scrumptious bite.
So all that to say, we are back home awash in a rosy glow of restaurant food and getting ready for church tomorrow.
And for those of you who lifted up my lack of dress slacks in prayer yesterday,
your prayers were answered.
2 pairs on clearance at Marshall's for grand total of $17.
I see that you girls don't play around when it comes to prayer and a fashion crisis.
I will be peacing out until next Thursday due to my writer's retreat
but be sure to check back shortly for pictures and stories of
"Sue, Rene and the blue-hoopty-ghetto-ride do the wine country."
Coming soon to a blog near you. This one, that is. In case you were wondering.

maybe we should pray

I feel a bit unsettled this fine friday, tsgs.
I got an e-mail yesterday reminding me that the writer's retreat
I'm attending next week has a "business casual" dress code.
It is defined as wearing nice slacks or a skirt.
Which is awkward since my stay-at-home mom definition of business casual is
"even sturdier jeans and tennis shoes"
since I will be "getting down to business" with my kids.
Do black jeans count as slacks? American Eagle cords?
Pink sweats with "hula hut" inscribed in sparkles down one leg? Just checking.
I'm not saying I'm panicked but I did wake up with 2 new canker sores in my mouth. Because I need 4 business casual outfits.
Back in the day, I had church clothes I could have drawn on.
But we meet in a theater, people. Part of our church vernacular is
"tear down" and "set up" and "sweat through"...
maybe the last one is just in my case.
But all that to say, my sunday best pants are my jeans that don't
ride too low when I lean down to help break down gates in the nursery area.
I'm all about class, tsgs. Yes, I am.
My sister, Jenny, helped me, though.
She called to mind at least 3 things in my closet that I can wear.
So I think I'm good.
To go to a fancy retreat in the Napa valley. At a place called The Lodge at Sonoma.
Did I mention my hoopty ride with no a/c and rust-dappled hood that
I will be rolling up to The Lodge at Sonoma in?
My friend, Rene, will be joining me as we make our ghetto-fabulous entrance.
I think I may need to wear the glitter spangled sweats as I exit my vehicle
and go to check in at The Lodge at Sonoma.
Do you get the feeling that you may need to lift me up in prayer?
Go with that instinct.

i love pretty dishes and rosanna inc.

When we sisters were very young, my mom started us collecting dishes.
We each had a different style of depression glass that we would hunt
for in the dusty corners of antique stores and search the wobbly tabletops of
flea markets and garage sales.
But something happened with all that treasure hunting.
Somewhere deep in our DNA we became wired for dishes.
But after 4 moves I had to put the kybosh on my collecting.
Loading dish pack after dish pack can do that to you.
I had every day dishes. Wedgwood china. Depression glass. Jadeite. Ironstone.
And a managerie of McCoy pottery, english teapots, and egg cups.
I love to use all my dishes at fetes and soirees and teas and baby showers.
(All 2 1/2 of them a year...such frequent use...I'm crazy like that.)
Sometimes when I have tea and scones with my backyard neighbor, Mimi,
while the kids are running amuck, we drink PG Tips with milk out of feather light china cups monogrammed with the letter "S" that my sister, Jenny, got for me 8 years ago...because she also cannot resist a pretty dish.
So all that to say, for years we sisters have been counseling each other,
"No more dishes. You don't need a single dish more."
But a few years ago,
I began noticing some dishes that were so pretty they could not be ignored.
I saw them in Country Living. And the Williams Sonoma catalogue.
I began to read about their designer, Rosanna Bowles.
And I loved all that she created.
But I resisted purchasing...because I have a lot of dishes.
And then I saw the Christmas plates.
The whimsical 12 days of Christmas plates.

They were my undoing, tsgs. Yes, they were.
And while I do not own the Christmas plates...as of yet...(hint, hint, Scott)
every year around November-ish, I begin to dream of them.
With their pink and aqua highlights. Hello, lovely partridge in a pear tree dishes.
I also have a hankering for the new the hot chocolate ensemble....
Because it's chocolate...my love language.
But you may lean more towards the red polka dots?
Or the green stemware with "vino" etched into it.
Or parisian fare? Or the haute holiday dishes that would look fantastic paired with the red polka dot dishes?
Because who wouldn't love those. So I thought in case you hadn't heard of
Rosanna and her lovely dishes that I should point the way to her pre-holiday
so that you, too, can dream of her fanciful creations.
Make sure to check out Rosanna's blog
and the winner of their annual table setting competition.
Those girls know how to get their fancy on.
I can't lie, I feel the need for a cup of tea and a pumpkin muffin coming on.
All this dish talk has me a little peckish.
Maybe I love pretty dishes so much because I love eating off of them so much.
New thoughts to ponder.
But one thing I am sure of?
There is always room for one more pretty dish in the cupboard.

kung fu clean up

So last night after dinner, we had all family dinner clean up.
Well, it started out as all family dinner clean up and segued into
all family interpretive dance.
Because I turned on the new Chris Tomlin CD, Hello Love.
And song number 8, God Almighty, surely sounds like an anthem that needs
to be interpretively danced to.
The beginning of the song is an instrumental that starts off like the soundtrack to a chase scene in the middle of an epic movie.
Think Chariots of Fire but faster. Since that was always in slow motion.
So as we were supposed to be clearing the dishes, I began to swing my arms in
wide arcs and Addie posed in baby ninja stance, quietly...softly... and then
threw himself to the floor for some break dancing spins,
while I busted out with a twirling leap. It was impressive.
I at least cleared 3/4 of an inch off the floor.
Will threw down with some disco moves. And Jack looked on with disdain.
Because he is in 2nd grade and he is that cool.
We repeated the intro several times because we kept thinking up more fantastic moves.
And I called to Scott to come and see.
Come see the incredible dancing stylings of your after dinner family.
Instead of watching he joined in.
Except instead of leaping or break dancing, he began performing katas,
the different choreographed groupings of moves he had studied in martial arts.
To the exciting pulsating music, he kicked, hit, blocked and annihilated his invisible victim.
I think he even threw in a couple jabs to the eyes.
And in about 2 seconds, the children who had been dancing with such abandon,
began kicking the walls, attacking Scott and letting out screeching, "HI-YAS"!
Our dance session turned into a worship version of "Everybody's Kung Fu Fighting",
with my husband leading the way.
Of course at this point, Jack joined in, because he will never miss out on an
opportunity to high kick his brothers or karate chop his dad behind the knees,
no matter how cool he is.
And so goes another after dinner clean up night at the Aughtmon home.
Minimum dishes washed, maximum show of testosterone.
I guess I'll have to practice leaping on my own time.
Mark my words, next round of interpretive dance,
I will be clearing a good 7/8 inch with my twirling leaps.
And I'm thinking about adding a round house kick.
For good measure.

early thanksgiving

Sometimes when life gets so crazy and busy
and you seem to be surrounded by dis-heartening news
and lots of bills pile up and someone puts a dark blue shirt
in with the whites and all of your whites are now baby blue
and then your 2 year old starts playing a new game called
"wipe-the-boogie-on-whoever-is-close-by"
and his father thinks it is funny and on top of that, you are real tired....
sometimes...you forget to be thankful.
But then sometimes right in the middle of your day
you realize the sky is blue and your kids are healthy and
you're not doing so bad yourself in the health department
(give or take those few handfuls of chocolate chips you eat on occasion)
and you remember you have a warm place to sleep even if you are real tired
and your heart, even after 12 years of marriage, still beats a little faster
when you think of going on a date with your husband
and you think to yourself, "Baby blue undies aren't that hideous,"
and you pause long enough to realize that the God of the universe
has you in his very palm,
the very center of his hand...
right then....you are filled with some thankfulness. Yes, you are.
Because there is, it seems, even with all the chaos of ordinary living,
SO MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR. Except for the new boogie game.
No one is expecting you to be thankful about that.
Here are some folks who had a few profound things to say on the subject.

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought;
and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
~G.K. Chesterton

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

The unthankful heart... discovers no mercies;
but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!
~Henry Ward Beecher

hygiene and other things that matter

I think I have rounded the corner on expecting perfection from my children.
I think.
They are just kids after all. And as I am so imperfect myself,
I try to keep that in mind while spending my life trying to shape and mold
(heavenly daystars, can you please obey me, just this once) these 3 small boys.
I think I've gotten pretty easy about picking my battles.
Because not everything I would like them to do truly matters.
Like tucking in their shirts to their school dress uniforms.
I prefer tucked in...they prefer askew, half tucked in, half pulled out
with a smudge of peanut butter located directly to the left of the clip on tie.
But this is not going to make or break them. This is what I tell myself.
So I sponge off the peanut butter, smooth down a few cowlicks
and off we go to school.
See? We're easy.
But there are a few things that we seem to have to work on on a very frequent basis,
things that matter and will get them somewhere in life later on...
things like clean underwear and teeth brushing.
These are non-negotiables as far as I'm concerned.
Several times I have come to realize that if I don't say to my sons,
"Put on clean underwear....EVERY DAY." That they are willing to let this slide.
They would be perfectly happy with wearing the same pair of underwear for a year.
I am convinced of this. And so everyday I still say,
"I don't care if you want to wear the same underwear everyday.
Out of consideration for those around you, change your underwear."
And they look at me with surprise
like this is something that has never occurred to them before.
The novelty of clean undies.
And with the teeth brushing, they seem to think that putting a small portion of
toothpaste on the tongue and flicking it around the general vicinity of the teeth counts as actual teeth brushing.
They come blow their half minty half pepperoni pizza breath on me as if to say,
"See, I am orally hygenic!"
But I have had to remind them, that no,
"You must actually use a tooth brush for more that 2.7 seconds and
you must apply pressure to your teeth with toothpaste ON THE toothbrush.
You know, that is why they call it "brushing your teeth"."
These are the battles that I fight here in my home.
And we are gaining ground. I am hopeful.
Just yesterday, the boys changed their underwear of their own accord.
Who knows by next year I may even have them clipping their own toenails.
Life is getting good.

halloween socks and pumpkin muffins

Most people base their knowledge of the fall season arriving
due to the cooling of the air and by noticing that the leaves are changing from
summer greens to autumnal reds and burnished golds.
(I had to use the word autumnal because it is so rarely applicable to my writing.)
People are beginning to layer their clothes
and drink even more hot beverages than usual. Especially ones that contain cinnamon.
I have two ways that I am positive it is fall in California.
Because sometimes it still feels like summer. Even though it is supposed to be fall.
The first way I know it's fall is because my mother-in-law buys me Halloween socks.
Last year, they were fluffy orange pumpkin socks. This year?

Now I know you are thinking...
1. Why are you wearing capris in the fall? Rest assured, I am not. Scott wanted me to be sure and mention that I pulled my pant legs up so that you could view my socks.
I do not wear capris with witch socks. Which leads to question #2...
2. Are those wicked witch socks? Yes, I believe they are. My mother-in-law bought me wicked witch socks. I questioned her about this...is there something she needs to say to me? Does she think that I have witch-like qualities?
She assured me she did not. She thought they were cute. She gave the socks with pictures of witches on them to Cheri, her daughter.
(Cheri, I think we need to talk to your mom about her choice of socks for us.
What exactly is she trying to say?)
Speaking of Cheri, the other night she called me to see if I wanted to
rendez-vous at Trader Joe's because we both love a good Trader Joe's rendezvous.
We met up in the produce section. We chatted through the frozen food aisle.
And then we parted ways, I headed for the bread aisle,
Cheri headed for some other Trader Joe's tasty morsels.
When I rounded the corner back to the frozen food aisle,
Cheri was very excited! And in her basket I saw these.

Boxes of Trader Joe's pumpkin muffin mix.
Cheri and I love the pumpkin muffin mix.
Hello, lovely boxes of pumpkin goodness.
Now, I am usually a scratch girl myself. I like my baked goods homemade.
But these are uncommonly good mixes.
Doctored up with a sprinkling of brown and white sugar...
they are fall happiness in the shape of a muffin.
So there you have it.
In case you thought it was still summer? It is not.
I know this because I have witch socks and 3 boxes,or make that 2 boxes,
of pumpkin muffin mix in the pantry. I got a little hungry.
Now if only some leaves would change color, I would really be set.

a few thoughts about Scott's sermon on Sunday

Scott is doing a "Truth in the Movie" series this month at our church.
On Sunday, he highlighted the movie Meet the Robinsons.
The message of the movie is this: KEEP MOVING FORWARD.
It seems simple enough.
Paul says it like this in Philippians 3,
"Forgetting what is behind and straining torward toward what is ahead,
I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward
in Christ Jesus."
But the way Scott phrased it struck me.
He said, "Forgetting what is behind, and then he said,"both the bad and the good..."
Now why would he say I need to forget the good times that are behind me?
Because I really like the good old days. I enjoy revisiting them.
But I have been mulling and pondering, tsgs.
Sometimes the goodness of my yesterday
keeps me from experiencing today and looking toward my tomorrow.
Because I get stuck thinking...
If only I could look the way I looked before I birthed 3 nine lb babies
(I feel real bad for my stomach sometimes)
or be that person I was when I travelled the world
(I miss you France and Amsterdam...I really do)
or be on staff with our friends instead of branching out into a new ministry
(Shout outs to the 3CA and NCC crews!).
It's so easy for me to look backward instead of moving forward.
Even this week I couldn't help thinking,
"Remember last week... that 2 minute and 17 second time period,
when the living room was clean? Those were some good times.
I miss you last week's 2 minutes and 17 seconds of living room cleanliness!"
And all the while I am missing the brand new 2 minutes and 17 seconds RIGHT NOW.
Almost every day, I forget the preciousness of NOW and the goal of LOOKING AHEAD.
Even though my NOW might seem really poopy or very terrible or so boring,
(Sweet hosannas, is it possible that I am doing laundry again? Oh yes. Yes, it is.)
Being aware of my NOW helps me move towards my FUTURE. The future God has for me.
If I keep focusing on yesterday's good things, I will surely miss today's good things
and forget to remember there a number of good things in store for me tomorrow.
I need to keep moving forward.
And who knows? My FUTURE may even include a brand new
2 minutes and 17 seconds of living room cleanliness.
I like to dream big, tsgs. I really do.

for your enjoyment....Little Wonders from Meet the Robinsons

only 21 days until High School Musical 3 is in theaters

I bet you didn't even know there was a countdown for HSM 3.
But there is. In my head. Another confession that must be made.
I am a 37 year old mother who is looking forward to cheesy music and bad acting,
mixed in with some dance routines that I may or may not try to master in secrecy.
For some reason the musical genre calls out to me.
My husband turns pale when people start singing and dancing
in the middle of a dramatic scene.
Musicals do not bode well with him.
I guess I also have to tell you that I used to love Frankie Avalon
and Annette Funicello movies.
They came on at 3 in the afternoon. I would race home from school to watch.
Beach Blanket Bingo. Bikini Beach.
I wanted to be the girl who could knock boys
off of their surfboards by shaking her hips. Those hips were lethal.
I heart musicals. Even terrible ones.
I didn't even mind that Zac Efron was orange in High School Musical 2.
I was drawn in at the mere sound of music pulsating through high school halls
and pom poms being thrown in air in 4/4 time.
I am going to have to be very careful to mask my love of musicals
around the children.
Because they are nearing the age when I am no longer "cool" or "funny".
I am a mom who has the ability to humiliate my children
if I perchance broke into a choreographed dance in the school parking lot.
Even now I see Jack peering at me out of the corner of his eye
when I look like I am enjoying radio disney a little too much.
Will and Addie are still on my side. They still enjoy it when I get my groove on.
But when we go see the movie, I am going have to keep my enthusiasm on the down low.
That is why I am telling the other moms,
"Oh, yes! The boys are DRAGGING me to see it. Can you believe it?"
I'm thinking this will throw them off.
And when we actually go to the movie, in 21 days, I will most definitely
have to make sure that I keep my hips in check.
It'll be difficult. But a mom has to do, what a mom has to do.

the fine art of reading

Will is learning to read.
And I think that he is a genius. Because I am his mother and that is my job.
This morning at breakfast he brought in Red Fish Blue Fish by Dr. Suess
and proceeded to read the first 4 pages with a great deal of panache,
all the while, beaming with self accomplishment, as I exclaimed,
"No way! How in the world are you reading that? Who taught you?
How did you know what that said?"
and things of that nature.
Scott has been working with him
and it is harder to tell which one of them is more proud.
So after Scott headed off to school with Will and Jack,
Addison who had watched this whole exchange,
brought me the same book and said, "I read it."
And I said, "You want me to read you the book?"
And he said, "I read it."
He seemed quite sure he could do as well as his older brother.
So I started him off.
"One fish."
"Two pish."
"Red fish."
"B-yue pish." (blue fish)
"Black fish."
"B-yue pish." (blue fish)
"Old fish."
And then there was a large pause, because under the picture of an elderly fish
with a sizable beard and bifocals,
there is a picture of a mommy fish pushing her newborn fish in a baby buggy.
I wondered if he could grasp the concept of old vs. new and the
rhyming pattern of blue fish/new fish.
So I prompted him again.
"Old fish?" He looked at me and then looked back at the picture.
"Stroller." He said with confidence.
I think he is well on his way to mastering the art of reading.
Will had better watch his back.