mommy pains

Welcome to the new tired supergirl Sassy McSasserson blog layout.
Shout outs to Jennisa from Once Upon A Blog,
for her creativity and her amazing ability
to make a tired supergirl feel sassy about her blog
even when her bangs are real short.
(Which by the way, are growing out quite nicely now, thank you.)
If you would like to see all the creative things that the amazing Jennisa does
and how she could sassify your blog, if you need any more sass that is,
check out her website.
And on that high happy note,
I seem to be riding the hormone roller coaster again.
I had a post partum breakdown the other day.
Now I know it has been 2 years since I have birthed anyone.
And maybe that seems too long to have a post partum weep fest.
But this is precisely the reason why I had the break down.
While on vacation, Addison and I, took a toddler/mommy trip to the store to pick
up some cleaning supplies.
And I was listening to Colby Callait of Bubbly fame.
The last song on her CD came on - Capri.
And Colby starts singing a lullaby with a plaintive guitar accompanying her,
She's gotta a baby inside
And holds her belly tight
All through the night
Just so she knows she's sleeping so safely to keep her growing
And oh when she'll open her eyes
There'll be no surprise
That she'll grow to be so beautifully
just like her mother that's carryin'
Oh Capri
she's beauty
baby inside she's loving
Oh Capri
she's beauty
there is an angel growing peacefully
Oh Capri sweet baby
And people, I just broke down.
Tears upon tears streamed down my face and I looked at Addison
in the rear view mirror and thought, "He's my last baby."
And it did me right in. Yes, it did.
Not one thought about thank the good Lord that I am done with
stretch marks, water retention, vomiting, leg cramps, waddling,
heartburn, back aches, shooting pains, uncharted weight gain,
charted weight gain, back fat, swollen ankles, high sensitivity to smells,
high sensitivity to rude comments... need I go on?
No, I just thought, I won't ever feel a little one fluttering in my belly again.
And I cried all the way to Rite Aid.
Cuz I won't ever hold my belly tight, full of new life, all through the night again.
And I won't ever be handed a downy headed funny squinty eyed newborn again.
For goodness sakes, I'm tearing up even as I'm typing.
It's the hormones, girls, they just don't let up.
2 years out and I'm still a basket case.
I feel like that cry bookended my baby season for me.
I'm so thankful for my three boys and their babyhoods.
And I am thankful that they are growing up strong and sweet.
I'm thankful for the years that have passed.
But I think I need to listen to that song at least 14 more times.
And remember. Because there is nothing like it. Having a baby inside.
Better pony up with the tissue, girls.
I feel another cry coming on.

ps you can listen to the song on the new superjam player...
if you would like to cry along with me.

baby jekyll toddler hyde

We just pulled in from our week of vacation.
It was beautiful to get away from real life and
sit and just do nothing. Nothing at all.
But we did hit a mile stone while we were away.
Yesterday, Addison turned two.
Yes, he most certainly did.
As we whiled away the hours in sunny Cayucos,
climbing rocks and drawing letters in the sand
his twoness came on quite strong....
like hurricane wind strong...hercules strong...7.0 earthquake strong.
My sunny little baby has started exhibiting
some not so sunny toddler behavior.
Imagine, if you will, finding your way to a lovely
beachside cafe looking out onto the rocks and waves
and the honey colored sun dipping down behind the horizon.
Then imagine, if you will, as you begin to place your order,
hearing a brand new two year old
repeating the word "no" 87 times in a row,
in a staccato like rhythm, with a bit of whining and hysteria thrown in.
No to being in a high chair. No to waiting.
No to a cheeseburger.
No to a straw. No to a cup. No to water.
No to saying, "No thank you", instead of "no".
No to mommy. No to daddy.
No to garlic fries which he threw back in Scott's general direction.
No to sitting on mommy's lap. No to being hauled out of the restaurant.
No to leaving behind his meal and heading back to the van.
No to being strapped into his stroller. No to being strolled.
No to being placed in his car seat. No to being strapped in.
No to the Veggie Tales CD mommy turned on to block out all the "no's".
People, no matter what anyone says, it is a day to weep when the child
learns the power of voicing his negative opininion.
We fared no better at the two additional restaurants we visited.
Except that we added a few more no's.
No to salsa. No to the waiter. And no to tacos were some favorites.
And frankly, tsgs, I am ready to hunker down and say "no" to restaurants.
For a year anyway. I'm not seeing this turn around any time soon.
I haven't done the 2 year old thing in a while.
And it seems I'm a bit rusty at it.
So I have a plan. A eat at home plan, for one thing.
A turn those "no's" into "no thank you's" plan.
A "how to not internally combust when your toddler tells you "no"
45 times in under 30 seconds" plan.
And here it is.
And it's time to record some supernanny.
Who else to help a tired supergirl than a supernanny?
Nanny Jo doesn't play. She really doesn't.
I know even now that I will draw strength from her
time outs, her naughty chair and her cockney accent.
God bless her.
And I will feel better in general just seeing that
there are a whole lot of crazy kids out there, saying "no"
and knowing that I am not alone.

great friday

Last week when I got a pedicure with my good friend, Lindsey,
a glorious pedicure,
complete with shiny nails and a lovely foot massage,
we were chatting with the girls ministering to our feet.
God bless them.
They were both moms and we began talking about kids.
At which time, one of them produced a picture of perhaps one of
the cutest of kids, with apple round cheeks and bristle brush hair.
And I said,
"Omigoodness, could you not just eat him up?
When my babies were so nice and chubby and little,
I would just eat them up!"
And with this description,
I added some lip smacking sounds and kissy faces.
To which, apparently, the lovely ladies thought I was maybe a cannibal.
Something was lost in translation from my English to theirs.
They were no longer smiling and they ceased sharing pictures
and began whispering something to each other
in a language I am not familiar with.
Probably something along the lines of...
"What a horrible lady to eat her children!
Let's get this sicko out of here!"
But I do so love the babies and I can't get enough of my kids.
I know I have become a sappy sentimental mother. I know this.
For all the complaints about laundry and disgust over the
arrival of full coverage cellulite since my 3 babies,
I absolutely cannot get over the brilliance of my children
and my joy at being their mom.
You can stop gagging now because I know you feel the same about
your own little pumpkins.
What we feel for our kids is beyond ourselves.
It is all encompassing and then some.
We love the way they talk, the way they mirror us and our actions,
(although sometimes this is scary and horrifying)
and how adorable they are.
And so I am thinking today on this friday,
a day that marks the point in time that Jesus died for us,
it must have been a horrible Friday for God.
Because his son, the one that he could absolutely not get enough of,
the one who mimicked his gestures and brought him such joy,
was horribly attacked and killed.
But then it also reminds me of how much God must absolutely love us.
His other kids. That he was willing to see Jesus endure such
cruelty on our behalf so that we could know him.
To realize that he feels the same way we feel about our kids,
but even more so, is something I can hardly get my mind around.
And in that way, today is a truly great Friday.
Remembering that God just can't get enough of me changes everything.

a full life

So we are going on vacation after church on Easter Sunday.
We are flying the coop and heading to a beach house
that some friends own.
We are headed out for some rest, some book reading,
some bike riding and some general bliss.
But before we can load up the car and trek out of here
we have to make it through the next three days.
The next three days would entail
making cupcakes for Jack's class party tomorrow,
filling out applications for Jack and Will for school next year,
(where are those vaccine records, anyway? and why do I always wait until
the deadline before I begin searching for the records?)
sending off our taxes (say a fervent prayer on behalf of the taxes),
celebrating my brother-in-law's birthday,
(birthday shout out to Kevin today - can't wait to eat cake in your honor!)
folding and putting away the 7 loads of laundry scattered across my house
(this is the actual number of loads currently accounted for...
I refuse to acknowledge any full hampers
or socks lodged in closet corners at this time - they are dead to me)
decorating at a wedding on Friday,
(wedding shout out to Aaron and Jen - can't wait to eat cake in your honor!)
prepping the easter egg hunt for kids church on Sunday,
(say a fervent prayer that I don't eat all the candy before the hunt...
I tend to turn to chocolate when things get hectic)
attending worship practice for Easter,
keeping kids out of Scott's office while he prepares Easter message,
(this is more difficult than it sounds - there is a magnetic force
field that pulls the children into the office)
buying Addie's birthday present,
baking a cake for Addison's birthday party on Sunday afternoon,
(birthday shout out to Addie - can't wait to bake a cake in your honor!
....or maybe just buy you some cupcakes)
painting Jack's bed (don't even ask)
(okay, you can ask....his bed collapsed from years of use,
an angel from God gave us another bed but it needed a few touch ups
and I decided why not just paint it...why not?
I don't have anything else going on...
but I ran out of paint half way through and it needs to be finished
before we leave....see,I told you you shouldn't ask)
cleaning the house for Addie's party,
cleaning up after the party,
packing the clothes for the trip,
loading the children, their gear, our food and our poor
tired selves into the car to drive 4 hours Sunday evening to the
blissful beach house?
Sometimes life can feel very full.
And I know while I am typing this that some of you could top me with
your own fullness in these next 3 days, yes, you could,
because sometimes it seems we are not so much on the journey of life,
as we are being run over by life.
So I woke up this morning and asked Jesus to help me
because I would appreciate not being run over this weekend.
And I think he already is.....
because I just realized I will be eating a different
kind of cake every day for the next 4 days.
That's the kind of thing that can really help a girl out.

praise report

So Friday night, I went out. Without anyone in tow.
Which is a small celebration in and of itself.
Leaving the house without children is a powerful experience.
I faintly remember what doing life without sippy cups and
potty drama was like. Very faintly.
In fact, I don't have to go anywhere exciting to actually
be EXCITED to get out on my own.
My sister-in-law, Cheri and I routinely call each other on
our cell phones around 8:00 in the evening.
"I'm going to Trader Joe's....can you come?"
or
"Target in 15 minutes....meet you at the Starbucks in the front."
This excitement of the shopping without kids almost throws us
into a frenzy of excitement.
A sense of euphoria and elation fills us at the thought
of shopping without having to argue that scooby doo gummy snacks
with 1 drop of fruit juice concentrate per gummy are actual fruit.
Life at its fullest.
Soooooo.....you can imagine my absolute joy at actually
going out with girl friends Paula, Emily, Lindsey and Pamela
for dessert at the Cheesecake Factory....
this is almost too much goodness in one evening.
We spent the evening sipping rich decaf and laughing very hard!
There is nothing better....
Except when the dessert arrived...that was lovely.
Oh and the fact that a hair miracle was performed right there
amidst the coffee and chocolate.
There was some jumping and screaming and hugging that took place
because Lindsey and Pamela brought me Frederick Fekkai's
Restorative Shampoo and Conditioner.

And if you saw my bang picture, you know that what I truly need
is some restoration.
This shampoo is as precious to me as fine gold.
And I'm not going to lie.
Happy tears of joy welled up in my eyes at the lovely magic shampoo.
TEARS. OF. JOY. I firmly believe that Jesus used the Hawley family
to minister to my heart and hair with some sassy beauty product.
It is love in a bottle. And for that I am grateful.
And so is Scott.
There has been a lot of beauty damage control
going on these last few weeks.
It seems that marital and bang healing is just around the corner.

bangs unveiled

Due to technical difficulties with our beyond slow computer
I have been unable to release the bang picture until this time.
Brace yourselves, tsgs.
I thought I would like to take you through the day of bang
heinousness along with some other fashion atrocities.
Friday afternoon
#1 glanced at my bangs in the mirror
#2 was ashamed by the limpness and longness of my bangs
#3 grabbed scissors and cut my bangs just a tad crooked but let it go
#4 got a free moment when Scott came home to run to the store
#5 shoved my tennies on and shot out to the grocery sans kids
#6 noticed the bag boy smiling curiously at me
#7 noticed that I was wearing these shoes

(I swear they looked the same from the back
when I grabbed them from my closet)
#8 got home and told Scott to snap a picture of my shoes
#9 and of my bangs while he was at it
#10 Scott curled into fetal position for the shame of my bangs
#11 Scott showed me the picture of my bangs

(pick yourself up off of the floor so you can finish the post)
#12 I joined him in fetal position
#13 blogged about my bangs
#14 re-trimmed my bangs...straighter but now even shorter
Sunday morning getting ready for church
#1 Noticed that very short bang trim unearthed my unkempt eyebrows
(if you revisit the bang picture you can see the direness of the
eyebrow situation)
#2 searched high and low for tweezers to no avail
#3 feel sure that tweezers have found themselves hijacked by boys
as a tool of vengeance and are lost in amongst the legos
#4 told Scott we needed to buy tweezers on the way to church
#5 Scott agreed but could not look at me for the shame of my eyebrows
#6 running late....what's new
#7 told Scott to forget tweezers we could get them later
#8 Scott looked scared and insisted we had time to get tweezers
#9 told Scott we would get to church late
#10 Scott, church planter, pastor is willing to be late to church
because of the shame of my eyebrows
Scott said that since I have chosen to put this hideous picture on
the web, no one will buy my book.
But I believe you can't judge a tired supergirl's book by her bangs....
or her eyebrows...
or her shoes.....
Please buy my book anyway. Or just donate money to the
"Tired Supergirl Makeover Fund."
Clearly we need more than a beauty week, tsgs.
Maybe we need an entire year at a spa to right the wrong
of this past weekend and to heal my marriage.
Keep the prayers coming.

beauty blog #2

I heard Jack chatting with Scott about his facial hair
this morning in the bathroom.
He is amazed by Scott's goatee and is anxious,
it seems, for one of his own.
He is 6 but he is going to turn 7 in two weeks.
He seems certain that his own facial hair
is right around the corner.
I was giving Addie a little snuggle at the kitchen
table and Jack came in, quite excited.
He said, pointing to some invisible fuzz on his upper lip,
"Mom, I am growing a mustache."
And being eye level with me, glanced at my lip and said,
"And so are you!"
Obviously, things have taken a downward turn for the
tired supergirl's Week of Beauty.

Here is a song to get you through your morning
if you, too think you might be growing a mustache,
seeing an onslaught of wrinkles or just plain forgetting
that you are an amazing supergirl, (albeit, a bit on the
tired side).

beauty myth busters

I have decided to make this Beauty Week here at the
lovely confessions of a tired supergirl blog.
Frankly, after my disastrous bang incident I feel I needed
a little beauty shake down...
So today we will bust a few beauty myths....
This weekend while I was away at a women's conference
with my friend, Lindsey and her mom, Pamela, a rare truth was unearthed.
I had forgotten my Suave shampoo and I got to use Pamela's which
was Frederic Fekkai's Restorative shampoo

and for goodness sakes, it was FANTASTIC!
My hair was restored to all that God had meant it to be.
It was soft and smooth, reflecting light particles from the heavens,
and it stayed that way the entire day. THE ENTIRE DAY.
Beauty Myth #1: Suave gives you the same results as salon shampoo. BUSTED!

I purchased this lotion last Monday. As of this last weekend, I am still 37.
Beauty Myth #2: Olay Age Defying Protective Renewal Cream
with Beta Hydroxy Complex and SPF 15 defies age. BUSTED!
On to our next beauty discovery...
My niece, Aly, discovered this lip balm at bath and body works
and I purchased some on my get away...

Beauty Myth #3: Bigelow Lemon Lip cream has an ultra-moisturizing and conditioning formula that instantly drenches lips with delicious hydration. TRUE!
Plus it tastes like a lemon drop and you can buy 3 for $15.
Beauty doesn't get any tastier or cheaper than this.
Beauty Myth #4: A pedicure makes everything better. TRUE!
After a traumatic short bang experience and an eyebrow altercation
and mismatched shoe drama, which will be blogged about in our
upcoming beauty series, I found that being treated to a pedicure
has special restorative powers and made me feel almost 36.
My toenails scream beauty with their perfect paint and rounded nail beds.
Shout outs to Lindsey and Pamela who were an integral part of
this weekend's beauty journey.
And lastly,
Myth #5: Boys are beautiful. TRUE!
When I pulled into the driveway coming home from the conference,
the screen door flew open and three sweet boys poured out of the house
and flew into my arms.
And they were perhaps the most beautiful thing I have seen in a while.
Even more beautiful than my newly painted toenails.

the sad story of my bangs

Sometimes people don't have time or money to get their hair cut.
So they take matters into their own hands.
Their hair dresser, who is a dear friend, knows these people sometimes
cut their own bangs and specifically told them how to cut their bangs.
But sometimes even specific instructions go horribly awry
and people end up looking like this....

like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber.
Or maybe a little bit like this....

Like Frankenstein because some people really do have high foreheads.
Or like this....

Like Mary Alice from Ace of Cakes on the Food Network...
Now mind you, this is not to say Mary Alice does not look sassy
with her short little punk rock bangs. Mary Alice has it going on.
But I do not like punk rock.
And I don't have any studded bracelets to go with my short bangs,
which by the way started out crooked,hence, I had to go shorter.
And then Scott begged me, tsgs, please do not put your picture
up on the world wide web for all of the 20 people
who read your blog to know your shame.
And he said this looking at the ground since he can no longer
look at my face for the shame of my very high bangs.
And then he had the absolute nerve to say they were still a bit
crooked and that maybe I wanted to try and have another go at them
as if I could possibly cut my bangs any shorter.
To which I shrieked, "I'm not going higher! They can stay crooked!"
And that is the sad story of my bangs.
But I did discover if I raise my eyebrows very high
my bangs look longer.
And for someone in my condition that is good to know.
I think I may try and hide my bangs
behind some large glittery barrettes.
And I know that really you would just like me
to post a picture of my hideously high bangs
but I'm trying to save my marriage, girls, I really am.
Who would have known a marriage built on love and trust
could be wiped out so easily by hideous bangs?
In the immortal words of my mother-in-law,
Pray heavy, girls, pray heavy.