Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

 "My blue-eyed wonder."


(photo by Lara Eastburn of Hooposophy and SuperHooper.org; used with permission)


You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Remember that thing you forgot?

Still homeschooling five kids.

Still making it my goal to teach my kids where and how to find answers and teach themselves.

Still avoiding memorization like the plague.  Unless they want to.  And they do.  Weird stuff.

Memorization is great for your brain.  I was forced to memorize a bunch of crap.  Out of all said crap that was shoved into my head, I can only recall:

The Preamble to the Constitution
A little rhyme of the 22 linking verbs
The first four lines of "The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales"
The first stanza of "The Road Not Taken"

Yet I can still sing along with this:



Biology?  I remember how the pig smelled when we dissected it.

I still kill at typing, and remember my shorthand.

Math?  I use my life skills.  Beyond that - nope.  Unless there is something specific I need for a project.  Yet, I don't remember the memorized math.  I have to look it up and reteach myself.

History?  I have bits and pieces.

Geography?  I could draw you a map of my teacher's scars from all of his motorcycle accidents.  I think we may have talked about North America at some point.  I don't recall, specifically.

Anywho, why am I rambling on and on about crap I don't remember?  It's your friendly reminder that it can be quite a waste.  The goal in my house is autodidacticism.  If you can find the answers yourself, you can teach or relearn those answers.

If you can do that, you can do anything. 

If it involves linking verbs, great! 


(Warning:  the following video contains language that some people may find inappropriate.  Feel free to google the psychology behind such offenses, and why certain words are considered "cursing" while others are plain, ordinary "words."  Or you could look up how to make your own video.  Or how to write music.  Or how tie a neck tie!)

    CollegeHumor’s Favorite Funny Videos

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Source: flickr.com via Rita on Pinterest

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

What's in a name?

(photo by elvis santana, used with permission)

Today I read something that broke my heart.  Someone was recapping a conversation they had with a former customer.  That customer is an immigrant and ... well, let's just say their name is not something like "Mary" or "Kelsie."  This person's boss, however, says he is having difficulty remembering her name and makes her wear a name tag that reads "Sally."

Really.

I got to this point in writing today's post and have stared at it for hours.  Each time I come back to it, my heart pounds.  It hits me very close to home, and I go back and forth between feeling very defensive and also having empathy and wanting people to listen, hear and learn.  Maybe change.

I have a child with a name that is not common in America. 

This child has taken on a nickname to avoid the common butchering of their name.

Their name.

The name that was chosen by their first parents.  Chosen for them.  In another country.  Amongst pain and poverty and hardship, they were celebrated and given a special place in this world.  Just like I was.  Just like you were. 

They miss their country.  They miss their family.  They take great pride in their heritage.  They struggle in their heart often with the difficult decisions which were made for them.  One of the beautiful things they have always carried with them is ... their name.

That name encompasses things that are important to them.  People who are important to them.  Places that are important to them.

It takes a minute to learn it and understand exactly how to pronounce it.  It may take a little practice before it's memorized.  The people who do that for my child are saying, "You are worth that bit of time.  You are worth it to me, so that every single time I address you, for as long as I know you, I will honor all of you.  I want to do that."

That's huge.  And it's also rare.  Very rare. 

I wanted to throw out a challenge. 

Some feel angry when they are confronted with things that are foreign.  They feel put-out and annoyed.  They are upset that their lives have been inconvenienced or that extra is being asked of them to function around someone who does not fit their norm.  If that's you, I would ask you to just sit with that for a minute.  Feel the anger and frustration.  Feel it and then try something new. 

Find someone who has a name you either butcher or politely avoid.  Very plainly state to them, "I'm afraid I might be saying your name incorrectly.  Could you teach me the proper pronunciation so I know I have it right?"  And then take the time to learn.  And if you have to ask them to repeat it more than twice, and you start to feel embarrassed because you're just not getting it, I would ask you to not pretend you got it and move along.  Instead, say, "This is important to me, so I'm going to keep working on it until I get it."

And do that.  Keep working on it until you get it.  Then call that person by their given name.  Honor them and their history each and every time you see them.  Practice it, and see what happens. 

It is quite likely they have just as much difficulty with American names and have been giving you the same courtesy all along.

Oh right. Mother's Day.

 

We can do this.

You're not alone.

It's not fair to any of us.  It's hard for everyone in this walk. 

Let's try to remember that. 

Allow space for that.

Permission to like yourself

This is true when I read it.  Is it true for you?  In a rare event, I am not allowing comments.  I am not adding a picture.  I want you to picture you.  Then find out what is holding up any part of these words in your life.  No need to discuss it with any of us.  Discuss it with you.

I love myself.

In fact, I really like me.

I'm not a narcissist.  I don't need you to like me or stand in awe of me.  I don't think I'm better than anyone else.  In fact, I find me to be gloriously average.  Living in moderation between some really fun and amazing experiences, coupled with quiet weekends at home and plenty of boring.  I like myself, even in the normal, mundane moments.

I am fun, and when I see a picture of myself smiling ... well, I can make my own self smile.

I'm funny.  I laugh at my own jokes. 

I screw up all. the. time.  When I do, I give myself a break and forgive me.  Humans screw up.  Humans get snippy.  Humans can be dumb butts.  I can feel disappointed in myself and still love and like myself.  It happens.  I can't get better if I don't practice doing better.  I can't practice doing better if I sit around being mad at myself.  So ... I give myself permission to like me before, during and after being a giant turd.

I like myself so much that I give myself what I need.  I need healthy food.  I need sleep.  I need a life free of unnecessary stress.  I sometimes need therapy.  I sometimes need medication.  I need someone to hear me and listen.  I need somewhere to vent and get ugly, nasty and rude ... where I can verbally vomit in a safe place.  I deserve all of those things.  I am a fine human being.

I am good looking.  My face is unique.  My hair is lovely.  My body shape is beautiful.  It is all different from a lot of other people, which is what makes me so interesting.  I am beautiful.  I find joy looking at me.  And I'm dang sexy.  I am sexy because I feel sexy.  I feel sexy because I like me.  All of me.  Exactly the way I am.

I am kind.  I am thoughtful.  I am this way to others and I am this way to myself.

It is not a miracle that I feel this way.  It is the evolution of many, many choices over and over and over again.  I continue to choose me.  I continue to like myself by what I do each day, what I eat, how I play, how I sleep, how I nurture myself and then how I share ... me.

I like me.  I love me.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"After three miscarriages, my husband Ray and I were honored to welcome Abigail Hope Miller into our family January 16th, 2012. 

Love reading your blog and appreciate you sharing life with us readers."

(photo by Sarah Chisolm-Miller, used with permission)

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

I held a snake and I liked it

Get your euphemisms out of the gutter.  The title of this post is literal.  We still have nine months until Sexuary.  Yeesh.  You're a bunch of pervs (she says, after being the one to bring it up).

I am actually talking about a python.  I held a snake.  Me. The person who had recurrent nightmares about these creatures into my 30's.  And sure, I just posted a picture of one in my yard.  It was crawling through the grass away from me.  It was not all wrapped around a human.  Big difference. 

I turn 40 in two months.  I could not be more excited.  I am like a 12-year-old about to become a teenager.  It's dropped into conversation regularly, "So, when I turn 40 this summer ..."  I'm thrilled.  I love getting older.  I love shoving more life under my belt.

I have mentioned before, my concept of having a Backward Bucket List.  That is the kind of thing that becomes significant during certain seasons.  Like turning 40 (did I mention I'm about to turn 40?). 

Recently I found myself sitting just a few feet from a woman and her pet python.  I didn't mind watching it from a distance, but I would normally divert my eyes and only take it in chunks.  Instead, this time, I made myself fixate on it.  I thought to myself, "I still have some issues with snakes.  Especially when they're wrapped around people.  This might be a great time to push myself a bit.  I'm going to make myself look at this snake for awhile.  I'm going to find out if I can learn from it." 

So, I did.  I watched how it moved around her body and coiled around her hands, arms and ... geez Louise, her neck.  So very tight and coily.  It was a bit unnerving, but then I finally started to notice small tid bits.  Beauty.  Gentleness.  Elegance.  Deliberate movement.  It was ... pretty.  I was enjoying it.  Done and done!

Right, whatever. 

Some guy plopped down and asked if he could hold her snake.  She obliged.  Was thrilled to share.  Like THRILLED.  As in, "Who else wants to come hold my snake?"

Frick. 

More sitting and staring.  Snake holding guy left.  I knew I was supposed to.  I knew that life was handing me a free, easy moment to learn some crap about myself.  I announced to my friends, "I'm going to check out the snake."  I figured if I didn't say that out loud, I might just walk over and buy a corn dog or something.

I sat down and asked, "May I sit here and hold your snake?"  She was delighted to let me do this.  In perfect nervous fashion, I asked no fewer than 25 questions in the first two minutes.  It gave me something to do while sitting there HOLDING A FRIGGIN PYTHON THAT WAS GETTING ALL SQUEEZY WITH MY NECK.

I just felt it.  Let it move.  Redirected it almost like a toddler.  Felt its body do it's thing to get from one place to another.  It was both amazing and creepy.

Then, it's head came around and was right next my face.  We were head to head.  Eyes to eyes.  Its tongue was moving in and out.  I had a moment of thinking, "You're not supposed to stare down strange dogs.  It can cause them to attack (I'm sure I read that on the internet somewhere).  So, maybe I shouldn't stare directly at the snake? It might cause some sort of trigger and it will bite my face off."

Cause that would totally happen.  A python might bite my face right off.  Or mistake me for a rat. 

Within seconds, the python was much more interested in my arm again.  I then wasn't exactly sure how long I had been sitting there, and if, perhaps, I was hogging the snake.  I handed him/her back over.  Thanked the lovely woman.  Went back over to my friends.

The rest of the day, my conversations went more like, "I'm about to be 40 and I just held a snake.  Did I mention I just held a snake?  And I'm gonna' be 40?"  At this particular festival, the typical responses were more like, "Um, I'm 23.  I juggle snakes.  After lighting them on fire.  Under water."

Fine.  Whatever.  It was a big deal for me.  Added to my Backward Bucket List.  They can't take that away from me.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"I always forget how hard these first few weeks are. I always doubt I can make it through and I always have some struggles. but this view. I LOVE IT. it really makes it worth it. every single pain, every two hours, everything." (read the rest of the story ...)


 (photo by Lisa, used with permission)


You can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

My crush on Brad Yates

All the cool kids are tapping.  No, really.

Tapping is the new Xanax.*

But cheaper.

And easier.

No need for water.

No side effects (unless you tap so much you bruise yourself, but then maybe you should tap about all of your excessive tapping!).

This year my friend, Lisa, introduced me to the tapping guru, Brad Yates.  He has over 200 tapping videos on YouTube.  This is the point where people click on links and start shrieking, "That's way too woo-woo for me.  Freak head!  That Christine is a FREAK HEAD!"

Come on, now.  We all know I'm a freak.  That's beside the point.  Tapping is a very easy and valuable little tool that goes with you everywhere.  So, just breathe.  Unless, of course, breathing is too freaky for you.  heh. heh.  While some people look at this as all about energy control and very woo-woo, I have experienced it in a different way.  It makes sense to me.  Perfect sense.

In tapping, you are ... well ... tapping on certain points of your body.  I see it as much more scientific and black and white.  You are tapping on accupressure points.  It has long been proven that stimulating these points can have effects on the brain and the functioning of the body.  For those who want to totally geek out, read the study "Acupressure Effects on Brain Function" by Dr. Charles T. Krebs.

So, you are tapping on proven accupressure points on your body.  At the same time, you are using statements to bring the issue, feeling or desire into a healthier part of your neurology.  Basically, we can have certain things "stuck" within certain areas of our brain.  By stimulating our brain and working through these issues verbally, we can slowly get "unstuck."  The greatest gift of EFT is the amount of immediate shift you can experience in your anxiety.  Maybe you can't go for a run.  Maybe it isn't 5:00 yet (because it's only 8:00 am).  Maybe you can't stop in the middle of a meeting and play a game of golf.  But you can tap.  You can tap almost anywhere.

For more of you raising your eyebrows, here is how you can spend your weekend.

Okey doke.  I bring up all of this simply to invite you to a free tapping event on Thursday evening.  Brad Yates is doing this specifically for parents of traumatized children.  It's not something to do with/for your kids.  This is for you!  And it's free.  As in ... free!

Having been a big fan of Brad for a long time now, and hearing him regularly as we stream him in our home (Michael and I, included), I was beside myself with excitement that he agreed to work with Lisa on this project.  I hope you all can join us for the "Mom's Call."  I will be listening in and tapping away right here in the double-wide.

I'd also like to give a big, public "thank you" to Brad for seeing our specific needs and being so giving of his time.  I was a giggly mess when I saw that he quoted me on his page.  For Pete's sake, the guy was a massive Davy Jones fan, owns a Monkees shirt and on one of his videos actually says, "So, the eyebrow story!  First day of clown college ..."  Yeah.  I'm a fan!



* The information included on this site is for educational purposes only, ya-da-ya-da. It is not intended nor implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, mainly because I pee sarcasm.  Obviously, I am in need of my own medical advice.