Birth control makes me itch

Did you know a woman can take a birth control pill for almost nine months before having an allergic reaction?

Why yes, yes she can.

Did you know the reaction can be lots and lots of really itchy hives?

Uh-huh.

Did you also know it could take almost six weeks, eliminating all crazy possibilities, one trip to a doctor, one round of steroids, constant itching even when drugged on a continuous flow of Benadryl ... before forgetting to take the pill one night, only to wake up and discover the hives subsiding?

So, there you go. The hives are going away. The cysts will probably come back. Strangely enough, I will take the pain of ruptures again on occasion. I want the constant itching to go far, far away. I will not miss them, not even a little bit.


(photo by tijmen van dobbenburgh)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Jenni, a reader)

You can submit your picture to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

Homeschooling RAD

This is a topic where pretty much everyone has their own opinion. I will say right up front - if you are parenting a child with RAD, your opinion is absolutely correct, no matter what it is.

While I do think there are immeasurable advantages to homeschooling a child with RAD, I only think they exist under the right circumstances.

* Can you afford the loss of income, while forking out for therapy ... or replacing pee soaked carpeting every six months?

* Do you have support in place to give you respite and/or encouragement to keep you going when you spend so much time with a child who is trying to push you away?

* Is the daytime environment fair to your child with RAD? Do they need the break each day from pets or younger siblings because of their temptation for acting out or showing aggression?

* Can you truly embrace the reality that bonding with you is 1 million times more important than schoolwork? Are you willing to modify their schoolwork, school day or even school year when it interferes with Job One: attaching to you? Can you be okay with that?

I think I was blessed, having already homeschooled for several years before parenting RAD. I had already seen and experienced, first hand, how much learning takes place outside of any kind of organized teaching. So, it wasn't hard for me to modify work, or actually say, "Ya' know what? You're just not strong enough to be doing school right now. I'm going to have you take off for about a month. We'll pick it back up later."

The crazy, off-the-charts advantages are also disadvantages. My children have those extra seven hours of opportunity to manipulate, control and generally freak out. I, however, also have seven extra hours to facilitate bonding, regulation and trust building.

I incorporate therapy into school, whether it is something to help them with neuro problems, or group activities to practice teamwork and cooperation and even ways to build their attachment to me. When it was time to check their work, I would have them sit next to me. If they were working on a math problem, I could have them use MY fingers to calculate. There are so many ways to utilize touch and closeness while we're learning together.

I can break down the school day into smaller increments. We can do 4-day week so one day is devoted solely to attachment therapy and complete downtime afterward. If one of my kids is refusing resisting my instruction, I can whip something out of my parenting arsenal toolbox to help them work through it in a way which meets them exactly where they are on their journey to healing.

Homeschooling also gave me the opportunity to make the kids' worlds very, very small and restricted in the beginning. Now that they are attaching, they can come home from an activity and tell me how someone might have upset them or ways they were controlling. In the beginning, though, I was teaching them and coaching them through every step. I have been able to slowly extend those boundaries so by the time they're in a social situation which may cause stress for them, they have already been practicing how to stay regulated. It's certainly not fool-proof, but more times than not they are using the things they have learned and been coached on for months and months.

Finally, it is a massive advantage to know what my children have learned and their capabilities. I don't have to start the school year blind to their behaviors, only to then be smacked out of nowhere when the honeymoon is over. When Mar pretends she can't add, I don't have to waste time wondering. I know she can add, subtract, multiply and divide more quickly than any of her siblings. She still tries it, but can't get very far. "I know, honey. You're upset that your mom didn't become a moron over the summer. Sometimes life really stinks."

I'm able to use the sibling factor to my advantage. RAD kids do not want to do anything their mother asks. Yet they tend to also be pretty competitive. Yet again, if they are not positive they can be the best, then they "play remedial." If everyone works on something, I will display some of that work for all of our guests to see. I don't do it all the time, but throw it in now and then. Mar and Rocky don't want OTHER people to think they're not terribly bright. So, it causes them to make a choice and live with that choice. If they take the whole mock remedial route, then I just smile and say, "That's alright. You're not wanting to join the family right now. You can try again when we move on to the next thing." This has been working with Mar lately. She'll do a few things wrong in a row, and I just keep trudging through with the others and take away all attention from her. She can't STAND it, and eventually joins in quickly and appropriately.

Homeschooling and RAD mixed together is just too much for one post, but I hope this gives you an idea as to how it works for us. I utilize so many aspects of life for learning that it just isn't a big deal if RAD sticks its nose right in the middle of an organized teaching moment. I mean, just think of all the multiplication tables you could recite to your child in the middle of restraint.

Then there's always, "OW! That was my pectoral minor you just bit!"

Or what about learning the in's and out's of urine and feces?

During group discussion, throw out, "The big story your brother told earlier - was that fiction or nonfiction?"

Perhaps something like, "When your sister called me a sh**, would that be considered libel or slander? What if she wrote it on the wall?"

See! The opportunities are endless.

All joking aside, it is HARD to homeschool RAD sometimes. Read the top of this post again. It's certainly not possible for every child and every situation. Yet, for some of us, it is feasible and can push our kids toward attachment much more quickly. If it leaves you in a puddle of tears every day, then it's kind of defeating its own purpose.

Don't feel guilty either way. DON'T! The entire family is a part of the healing process, and you know best how to balance it for everyone. You know what you need to stay regulated and to keep your family moving forward. Trust yourself and keep your eye on the big picture.

(photo by Edwin PP)

Thai Sticks, Waylon, his buddy Willie and his other buddy Willie

You learn something new every day.

Today I started my Sabbath with a cup of coffee and Willie.

As usual, he started to tell me stories. We talked about his ex-wife. He was adamant to make me understand just what a great woman she was. He readily admits his drinking was the reason for their divorce and he has absolutely nothing bad to say about her. In fact, he still praises her for the wife and mother she was during their marriage. Takes full responsibility for his alcoholism and how it hurt the people in his life.

I made a comment about how hard it is to quit drinking and he cut me off immediately. "No it's not. It's the good Lord. He helped me quit. It's all Him. I don't even want the stuff anymore. It was the good Lord."

He asked me when I was born - 1972 - and that triggered a memory. A day when there was "real" country music. Back when there were big 24-hour picnics full of music and partying. This was also the decade when my friend, Willie, got to meet and hang with Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson.

He was at one of these picnic concerts. He was drunk (because he started drinking at age 16, and will celebrate one year of sobriety in October ... he's in his 60's). Anywho, Willie was pretty snockered. He and his buddies noticed Waylon and the real Willie hanging out backstage. His friends dared him to go back and talk to them.

Let's back up a little more. At this time, our Willie was working as a foreman at some sort of gravel/sand pit place. There was a guy that wanted a massive amount of sand, but wanted to barter. I don't know who the man was, but I can tell you he knew Willie well. He had some thai stick pot (which was about $300 an ounce back then and very, very hard to come by - it disappeared somewhere around the early 80's and is a thing of legends because just two or three hits gave you the same effect as a whole joint of the regular stuff - see, I learn something new every day!). Willie took the thai stick and let the guy come after hours one weekend and load up on sand.

Now, back to the picnic. Drunk Willie has no fear (and as I'm learning, neither does Sober Willie). He headed backstage and just walked right up to Waylon and Willie and started talking. Basically, said something to the effect of, "Have you got a minute to chat with a poor guy? Oh, and I'd also be willing to share some of the best pot you'll ever have in your life."

So, he hangs out backstage for a minute, sharing pot with Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. It was so good, they insisted on paying him for it. He refused, but said they could always call to see if he could get them any more. Waylon took him up on it ... three times.

As I said ... legendary weed ... with two legends.

And what did YOU talk about at church today?



(photo by Gerhard Taatgen jr.)

Electric Avenue

* We are getting electricity to the house. It will cost a lot. When they run wires to a location you get 400 feet for free. We have to come over 600 feet. Ka-ching. If the dude owning the vast, empty land across the street had let us run the line there, we'd be paying chump change for just the box. But I'm not bitter ... much.

* We have the survey done, so we know just how high to hoist the double-wide up on the blocks. We live in a 100-year flood plain. It's like dominoes. Gotta' get the survey done to get the paper turned into the official flood plain guy to get the info to the movers/setters to actually get the house on our property.

* The actual live electricity should be here in about two weeks. We have to also hook up the septic and water. Nothing major. Just have to do it. More dominoes.

* Have some a great couple coming out to tent camp tomorrow night. Have never met them in real life. Will be fun just getting to know each other. I LOVE visitors!

* Have the meeting of the RAD Moms (plus 12 kids) converging again on Sunday afternoon. We plan to sit around, snack, talk and be only remotely hypervigilent over our children.

* I plan to write a post on homeschooling RAD. Really, I do. You'll know when it happens. And yes, it may very well be after they all graduate.

* Willie is having surgery for cataracts next week (they're doing one eye at a time). Brought me in his folder from the surgical center, and asked if I can help him with it. Granted he is the most UNideal patient on the planet. However, he really does need someone with him for 24 hours afterward. He needs help with the paperwork and presurgical prep. And he asked me. Made my year. Stay tuned for the post-surgery showdown as he tries to do too much too fast, and we have some very *ahem* joyful interactions.

* Rocky had a little meltdown last night before going to his youth program thing at one of the churches. He talked through it though (as he was equally pissed off that we were requiring him to talk through it before allowing him to go to class). Then, this morning, he came in and did some playing-dumb to still show disrespect. Talked through that. TOTALLY owned it - "I'm mad that you made me talk about it last night and I wanted to be disrespectful to you today." High five for owning it. Then, a quick convo on what he would be doing for restitution to his disrespected mother. :)

Here, some therapy; there, some therapy; everywhere, some therapy, therapy!

And with the good comes ...

I've been around this block enough to know that traumatized kids actually experience trauma when GOOD things happen.

When our kids make progress, and they hear praise, it wigs them out. It is so very foreign, and it heightens their senses to danger ("Maybe I'm being set up?"). It just doesn't feel RIGHT to ... well, to do something good or normal.

So, of course, I have been expecting Mar to be freaky-deaky. We have talked about it a lot. However, Sunday got her goat. We gathered as a family and were singing and talking and sharing. She talked about her love and trust in us, and how she has felt it for a long while, but finally felt safe enough to verbalize it. There was a lot of celebration and praise ... and then increased heart rate and playing with hair and sweating of the hands and feet! All expected, but boy does it go downhill from there.

Needless to say, it has been a rough week. We went through the exact same thing with Rocky when he hit the point where he could verbalize his attachment. It is SO SCARY and SO UNNERVING for them. They want it, but they don't ... but they do ... but they don't.

I try to ride these waves as they come, how they come, whenever they come. Otherwise, you will end up dreading the good every time, just because you know there will be some bad to follow. We go out on a date with our spouse, knowing there will be payback. You watch your child progress, knowing there will be some regression because of it. You have to enjoy the good - really soak it up - and walk through the rough patch afterward.

Mar is digging in her heals. It's like quitting an addiction. Sometimes you have to quit several times before it "takes." My kids have left some behaviors and responses behind quickly. Others have been very painful to release. Mar actually grieves the loss of some of her old behaviors. She craves them at times. She is not sure she's okay with losing more, because of all this "healing" stuff.

Yesterday I broke down in front of her. She started to just play her games, and it broke my heart to know she is attaching, but to see the fear of the moving forward take complete control of her actions. I was moody. I got all boo-hooey. So, then we have a very terrified girl, who can now FEEL her feelings ... and her mother is crying and hurting over her.

Let's just say, yesterday was no party. She's working through a lot of stuff.

Found myself feeling sorry for her that she can feel so much now - that she isn't just shutting down and taking an emotional break from all of this. But I'm THRILLED she can feel stuff ... but, but, but ...

sigh.

It's not fair. It's not fair that our kids have to work so hard to heal, and they didn't get this way by any fault of their own. It's not fair. I hate it.

It's also not fair that three females in this house now have hormone surges and this week has been a pinnacle for all. three. of. us. It's just wrong, I say. Wrong!

another sigh.

Me & Willie

As crazy as it sounds, his bumps and bruises are looking BETTER today. :)

Spent a good hour hanging out and talking with me this morning - from his truck, of course.

His shirt says, "I'm out of bed and dressed. What else do you want?"

I argued that wearing boxers for shorts doesn't really count. And no, the fly is not sewn shut.

He's obviously feeling better.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Stolid Neapolitan woman breastfeeding her baby as her husband & children look on in the filthy makeshift quarters in a grotto where they have taken up residence to escape Allied air attacks and the booby-trapped buildings left by German demolition units. Naples, Italy, September 1943


(photo by Time Inc.)

Willie vs. Ambulance vs. Christine

And the ambulance and Christine won.

Old Willie came over today all banged up. He had fallen.

What I did not find out until this afternoon was that he has fallen several times over the last two days while in town. Both times, the police were called, Willie refused to have them call an ambulance, so they said, "Okay, old man who just passed out. Have a nice day!" and let him get back into his truck and drive the 11 miles out to the park.

Both times.

At least.

That we know of.

By the time I went to check on him, he was not well. He could not walk at all, without falling. He was not coherent. So, I called 911. Since we're out in the middle of nothing, we had the first responders from three miles away (I think theirs is more of a volunteer thing). Took about ten minutes to get here.

Note to self: if you have a heart attack, do not die for at least ten minutes.

Then the actual ambulance arrived from town. All-in-all, there were FIVE different vehicles of people. Gave the neighbors something to watch on a Sunday afternoon.

Willie told them he was fine and that they could leave. I heard it, and asked, "Can I come in there?" All the EMS cleared a path so I could change his mind in the most loving way possible.

Okay, who are we kidding? This man is stubborn, and as wild as a feral cat, and I also happen to absolutely adore and care about him. So, it might very well be possible that I said something to the tune of, "Willie, I'm not letting you anywhere near your truck until a doctor has seen you. You're going to kill yourself or someone else, and I just won't let you. So, shut the hell up and let them check you out."

Or ... something like that.

Needless to say, he is now at the hospital being monitored. Will check on him after awhile. He gave me his keys to lock up after him. His key ring?

An actual alligator foot.

I seriously love that man.

My daughter loves me ... and trusts me (no, REALLY)

I have been itching to tell you something (I was also itching from some sort of crazy allergic reaction, but a very nice doctor gave me some glorious steroids this morning and I'm doing a bit better).

Have you ever noticed how I am the Queen of Run-On Sentences and Chasing Rabbits? Now, what was I talking about?

OH, right. The itching-to-tell thing.

It's Mar.

Last week was a really rough time for our family. Very chaotic. A lot of things working against us. Some little. Some really huge. When you get busy with life's complications, you don't have time to be having lengthy therapeutic conversations and coming up with creative ways to shift energy. You just buckle up and hold on for the ride.

Well, Thursday I looked down to find I had a chocolate brown appendage all day. I knew Mar was not leaving my side, but didn't realize the extent until I got up, ANNOUNCED I was going to the restroom, and watched her hop up to follow. "Um, honey. I'd really like to urinate by myself. Tell ya' what - I'll go to the bathroom then meet you in the RV so we can just hang out and talk."

I just jumped right on it. Told her I knew it had been a very stressful week for all of us in so many different ways. I knew she had needed to try to keep herself regulated without me being around. She agreed. "So, tell me why you need to be with me so much today, even when I pee." *giggles*

SIDE NOTE: Over the last month, Mar has started to stick to me like a post-it after she has behaved in ways which hurt me directly. So, this wasn't new, but instead of being a post-it, she was more along the lines of super glue.

Said in a completely regulated state, no rapid breathing, no darting of the eyes or dilated pupils, no playing with hair or other things to avoid feeling the feelings being spoken: "Well, I'm still just really scared. This week was hard. I just know if I'm with you, I'm okay. It makes me feel safe."

And in true Christine fashion, I sat - stunned - and then yelled, "HOLY CRAP!" To which she laughed really loud and yelled, "I KNOW!"

To say we've had challenges since we've moved here would be the understatement of the century. I have been very angry with God lately. We have been frustrated. We have been defeated. We have all just had to bang our heads on trees over some of the crazy - CRAZY - weirdness we have experienced. Some people - super nice. Some people - well, let's just say nice, moral or trustworthy are not in their vocabulary.

And as that chaos spilled over to the whole family, it brought immense fear to Mar. She always assumes everything bad is her fault (because, for along time, most of it was). She thought every tiny little thing would come back onto her. She was confused and terrified.

And she ran to her Mommy.

OH MY GOD, YA'LL!

I'll just stop with that. YES, my child speaks attachment, love and trust with an accent, but she can speak it conversationally now. Soak it up and celebrate with her.






(Did you catch that? Her eyes are squinting. A real smile. Me, on the other hand - well, I look like a dear in headlights in desperate need of some lip gloss.)

What is it with me?

* Covered in a blistery, very itchy rash of sorts. First I thought it was maybe a sun allergy (I do take a med that makes me more sensitive). Still a front-running possibility. Maybe heat rash? Poison Ivy? We've been ruling everything out. So, it's the sun thing or good, old fashioned hives. What I have thought all along, but it makes me feel better to actually believe I COULD have the chicken pox a second time, even when the first time was horrendous. I may just tell people that when they stare at me like I have the plague. My mother, of course, will deny it vehemently. She witnessed the first explosion when I was in grade school.

* We bought a house.

* Old Willie Nelson out here at the park is trying again to quit smoking. Whisper prayers for him. He really wants to quit. His 14-yr-old grandson really wants him to quit and live a very long time, husky voice and all.

* Sorry, did I leave you hanging on the house thing? Well, we bought a 10-year-old repo double-wide for less than what we payed for our last car. Bought it. Cash. Outright. It's ours. Granted, it's still sitting on a lot in San Antonio, but will be out here in our field as soon as we hire a mover. Of course, don't get too excited. We won't have any electricity.

* Michael has been substitute teaching on top of his other little parttime "Do you want fries with that shake?" job. He loves it and the kids love him. He is getting called a LOT. With the multitude of subs, there aren't many who want to work junior high or high school. And men? They're a rarity.

*What? OH, the electricity thing. Thought I had told you all about this giant pain in the ars little glitch. You see, not only would we like to power our home (living off the grid would cost more than the house - trust me - I CHECKED!), but we also need to have the county cooperative install a security light in the area. It's dark out here in the boonies, and most people don't want to spend the $20 a month to slowly pay for a street light which will not be directly on their property. Only (here's the glitch), to run the lines and put up a pole, it would require them shaving off the front of EVERY SINGLE TREE along the easement of our park property. Um, nope. The cool part is that the coop guy didn't even make it an option. He REFUSES to do something so awful. GO COOP GUY! Luckily, there is a very empty piece of land adjacent to us, where they could cross over, run the lines, and cross back. Easy peasy. Just have to get permission from the owner of this tiny triangular strip of property ... aaaaaaaand, the guy refused. Yup. Refused. Said we could pay to bury it (note: double the cost of running lines on poles, and we'd have to pick up the tab). No plans to develop this property anytime in the next TWO DECADES. Yes, he said that. So, while we and Coop Guy are still looking for alternatives, we own a home, which is sitting in a parking lot in San Antonio, which really doesn't matter much because it wouldn't have any electricity if it were here.

* Thankfully, we have several people in our lives who are also trying to come up with some creative electrical solutions. Stay tuned. Or donate solar panels. Or a windmill. Whatever you prefer.

* There is some water damage to the house, so I will get to replace flooring for the first time. No, not like putting down a little vinyl. I'll be cutting and piecing in new plywood and THEN doing the easy "weekend project" stuff. I'm actually very excited. Unless, of course, the first time Michael uses the master toilet, he falls straight through my repaired floor to the ground. Then it would lose its "I am a Super Woman" appeal.

* We will be surrounded by plenty of hunter green carpet and floral wallpaper, and I SO DON'T CARE! I have avoided throwing myself a pity party. I suck up and deal. However, I must say it has been really hard not having our family under one roof every single night. It's okay, and it's working, and it's not like we can't see each other just a few feet away through the windows. Still. It is very disjointed. As a mom, it just bothers me. I look forward to talking about our family dwelling in the singular instead of the plural form.

* Today is our 14th wedding anniversary. We both remembered - yesterday. We have made an agreement that we will celebrate our 15th WITHOUT any major transitions, life changes, or newness of any kind. It will be bland, boring and completely predictable. Ahhhh. That sounds so nice.

* Must go slather myself in Sarna now.



(photo by Jay Lopez)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Melessa, a reader - I let her cut in line in front of some other pics because this was taken just last week, and for some reason that makes it all the more precious to me)

You can submit your own photo to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

The pen is mightier than the sword

I'm always chit-chatting with other moms as we wade through this therapeutic parenting thing. So many times we give each other tips, and the other will say, "Der! Of COURSE I should do that!" We've heard it or read it or even done it ourselves before, and we're just mentally fried. We forget the great ideas we already have floating around in our heads somewhere.

I had one of those moments today. Just remembered something out of the blue, and it was the perfect place, perfect time and perfect match for what was going on. Just good, old fashioned note writing.

Our family has had a very rough week. Some of it was RAD related, but all of it was just outright attack and oppression from what I truly believe is the Enemy who is out to break us and separate us from the God we are serving. Rough, rough, rough.

Of course, when you have that kind of week, your healing kids are going to go berjerko (that is the official term - medical dictionary - look it up). Mar has actually taken some insane steps forward on the path to healing, in the middle of the blecgh. Hope to write more about that another time. She was still a wreck, but started verbalizing and showing me some truly wonderful things with her actions.

Rocky, well he was just a good, old fashioned, stressed-out mess. When he feels stressed and lacking in control, one of his typical patterns is to start mumbling a lot, asking lots of nonsense questions and playing dumb. Bless his heart, he's such a bright kid so it's blaringly obvious.

"Mom, I need to get batteries for the Wii remote."

"Okay. They're all right there on that shelf. What kind do you need?"

"Er. Uh. Um. I think it just takes any kind."

Mmmm Hmmmm. Can you smell the stress in the 13 year old? Well, today as we were killing time, waiting on his sister to audition for a musical, it just hit me - write and pass a note back and forth! We couldn't talk in the theater, and he just wasn't able to talk about it yet, anyway. So I started ...

"Hey there. You're stressed! What's going on? What has got you freaked?"

Of course, he wrote something that had nothing to do with the big stress. "I got mad because you and Dad got onto me." I just scratched it out and wrote ...

"Sure you did. Every kid does. But I'd like you to answer my question. What has you scared? What are you afraid of?"

It took him probably ten minutes to write the answer, but HE DID. Then, I was able to answer those fears in writing - something he can keep.

BINGO!

Passing notes. Genius.

What's the best advice you have ever received?

Working through the "Why?"

After hearing from so many more people last week working directly with traumatized children, and many of you who comment and say, "Yes, more of THAT!" ... I realize I need to spend more time giving you real life examples of dialogue and our thought processes as we love and help our kids. So, with that ...

Figuring out "why?" our children behave the way they do can be impossible some days. Yet, other days it is glaringly obvious. Still others, we get complacent and tired and we just don't focus on what is right in front of us (that's known as "being normal," "living life," and "not being super human"). All of our children are different. Some have a plethora of diagnoses. I'll tell you how it plays out with my kids.

First, my kids rarely behave negatively toward just any old random family member. They prefer to focus on the person they intend to hurt (many times it's their method of communication). Yet, there are always exceptions. For instance, last week we reminded Rocky he would feel very irritable because his grandparents were leaving (people leaving really sets him off). He WILL bite off the nearest head just to express his pain over the feeling of being left. So, this is an exception to what is typical for us, yet it is his pattern. We know it and we talk about it now before it occurs. Sometimes that helps. Other times he just spends time trying to leave his bad choices in the field across the road. (LOVE the field across the road!) One particular day he was yelling at Michael and myself. I let him know he could go to the field and yell, but he was not to return until he could speak to us like we speak to him - controlled and loving. He stayed over there four hours. :( BUT, when he did return he was 120% regulated and could talk through his feelings. He did not raise his voice again that day.

One day Mar rode over her brother's little digital camera with her bicycle. She said she was mad at Presh, but Presh had just headed over to a friend's house so she decided to take it out on Andy Roon, instead. That's a lovely batch of bull corn. She wouldn't dare be mad at someone and NOT share the joys of her acting out. "How 'bout we do some jumping jacks together and see if the real reason you're mad at your brother can wake up and make its way out of your mouth." Once she is regulated, THAT is when we get to talk about how fun it will be to pay back double for the camera she destroyed. Trying it sooner will always blow up in your face and cause them to escalate more. I guaaaa-ruuuuun-tee it.

And then there is another category. This is when you have to smother your life in prayer and understanding of your child's circumstances. Some of you just (and I don't say "just" lightly!) have attachment issues in your home. Yet, most of us have a multitude of abuses and fears and things like PTSD which have come along into our homes with our children. These are the biggies and this is when you have to take a big step back and understand the big picture to help your child.

Case in point. I was recently stoned (and not in the Woodstock sort of way). I understand not everyone stops long enough to read between the lines, and I am very protective of my kids and their histories and stories. So, I'll put it like this: in that particular situation, my child was not attacking me. She was a victim, who had spent two days in a flashback, knowing and believing she could be harmed again and was defending herself in the best way she knew how - literally too terrified to use words - just fighting for her life. We got lax. We actually created this horrific situation. The "why?" was right in front of us, but it took a rock in the head for me to see how seriously we had downplayed the terror within our child when she is placed in very specific situations. To us, we just had been having enough normalcy that we assumed she could handle being with certain people in certain situations. We didn't talk ahead and we just threw her into circumstances which, although we assumed that particular fear had subsided, well ... it would be like telling a rape victim to walk home down a dark alley every night and be okay, even if it had been years since the rape.

We were stupid. She was terrified.

And many of you have asked privately for me to better explain what I mean when I say I "talk her down." It goes something like this:

"Go ahead and do what you need to do. I'm not going anywhere. Sorry my boobs are tiny and I'm so sweaty. You can't get a really good grip." (Oh my, how humor stumps them a bit and starts to break through - and when your child is trying to noogie your not-even-an-A-cup chest, it's either scream or tell a joke) "You are so afraid. You can't say it, and I'm sorry we didn't see it. I'll say it for you. 'Mom, I was so scared. You went on your trip, and where we live here is not like our old house and I was freaked out. I wanted to make sure it would never, ever happen again!' (lots of long pauses - but at this point, she is no longer fighting) "Look at me, babe. We did not talk about it ahead of time and help you make a plan and be prepared for your big feelings. That was our mistake. We are very, very sorry. You did not use your words, either, and you have let your fear hurt people." (IF she is regulated and can make eye contact, this is when I coach her) "This is when you would say, "Mom, I'm sorry for (big long list). Is there anything we missed? No? Okay, what should you say to Dad?" or whoever else she has hurt. Even her older siblings will sometimes prompt, "Have you apologized to Mom for what you did earlier? This might be a good time." Apologies for Mar are just like eye contact used to be - painful and extremely rare. So, we practice kind, appropriate and timely apologies.

Then, later, after more downtime, THAT is when we talk about restitution. Granted, with Mar, when she hurts me and is regulated again, she becomes my shadow automatically now. She doesn't naturally know to do loving things to make up for the hurt, but she knows she wants to be close. So, I coach her to give her ideas on ways she can pour lots of love into the hurtful hole she made in someone.

And I KNOW, those were some very short paragraphs for what some of our kids drag on for hours. It doesn't play out in 45 seconds (if it does for you, PLEASE write a book). I view it as I did when Twitchy Mac was a baby. She had reflux and colic and cried all. the. time. Sometimes I could be right there with her. Sometimes Michael and I would trade off comforting her. Sometimes we had to put her in a safe place and go on the back porch and beat our head against the wall. You have to pace yourself. If what you are doing is causing them to escalate further - STOP. Take a step back and take a breath. Find them a safe place to be and take a break from each other. YES, you will probably discover they are playing and having the time of their life. YES, sometimes the rages and yelling is fabricated to try to engage you. That's the point of pacing yourself. Come back in with fresh eyes and some renewal.

When Mar and I have some time of separation, I typically come back to her and just sit somewhere close. I don't say a word for quite a while. This has become a little bit of a routine for us. I just let her get used to me being there with her without her yelling. Sometimes, the first thing I say will be a joke - just some cheesy joke ... or maybe, "So, I hear you had a reindeer in your bed last night." That's when I get my little grin and a "Mooooooooom." We can move forward then. I can move in and put my arm around her.

If your child still just cannot verbalize their feelings, make guesses. "I'm guessing you are mad that the United States still expects you to get an education. Was that a good guess?" "Yesssss." "Well, let's practice saying it. I HATE SCHOOL! Come on, Mar, with gusto!" Then I might ask her to get specific - what does she hate the most? If she could rule the world, what would school look like? Then, finally, "Honey, why is school important?" Lots of playful talk and then try to find some sort of compromise.

And today, Mar's compromise was actually to do MORE spelling work on her own, instead of do it quickly with all her siblings. And I chuckled and said, "Man, it doesn't make sense to me, but that's okay." And she said ... wait for it ... wait for it ...

"But Mom, that's what I NEED."

Yup. I'm still on the floor if anyone wants to pick me up.

She couldn't articulate the "why," so I tried to help her. It feels too competitive, the way we do it (you get a word wrong, and you immediately correct it - but she is the youngest of the oldest four and does miss more words - and even though there are no grades and no competition, it is just TOO MUCH for her). And she told me. GOOD FOR HER! I helped her break it down to "why" she might need it. It helped her and it helped me.

You don't always get your answer to "why?" Yet, when you do, it gives you yet a more deeper understanding, and it is an instant lesson on what you can do in the future to coach your child when some experience is about to cross their path. The "why's" help us discover some triggers. We coach. They practice. And their worlds are changed forever.

(photo by ivan petrov)

Busting homework battles

Yes, I homeschool and no, my kids do not have homework. Yet, I have found a great site full of wonderful little ideas which can help any of us redirect our kids when they are shutting down. Just for the record: homeschool kids love to act out just as much as kids attending school somewhere else. Glad I could set you all straight on that.

The site is from a woman named Dr. Jean, and what I want to show you comes specifically from her March newletter, "Moving into March."

Here is how you can use it:

* Click on every single link on the newsletter I directed you to above. Every one has ideas on shifting your child's energy, waking up their brain and getting them to a place where they can refocus.

* When your child is shutting down, or working slowly, or starting to have a meltdown over something - try one of these activities.

* If you have a 13-year-old (like I do), DO NOT assume they are too old. Holy cow, we all make that mistake. Instead, DO IT WITH THEM! They will be so busy laughing at you they won't realize it is actually doing something positive for them (including laughing at their mother).

Make notecards of these ideas if you want. You're all super creative. Some of you are organized. Some of you are like me, and will be scrambling to the laptop while your child is in tears. You can make it work for you and your home however you want.

I LOVE this site for two reasons -

#1 - it is valuable
#2 - it is free

Yeah for Dr. Jean (whoever the heck she is!).

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by a sweet friend from college, Christy Dufresne Lannom - nursing 7-day-old Jonathan last week after birthing at home ... thanks, Christy!)

I love receiving Magical Milk pics from people I know or people who "read me." Send them to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

You can't make this stuff up

There is an elderly woman who lives down the road. She has always waved at me while I'm out tending to the park. She finally stopped last week to show me a newborn kitten she was taking to the vet. I'll call her Ima Jean (the lady, not the kitten). I ran to get the girls and we chatted about everything, including her upcoming 84th birthday.

Well, two days ago she pulled up into the drive. None of the kids were around.

I got a healthy dose of the real Ima Jean.

"How are you doing?"

"My husband left me."

"What? Isn't he sick? Didn't you say he has cancer?"

"Yeah. He does. Has a big 'ole knot right here in his belly."

"Well, where on earth did he go to leave you, being sick and all?"

"He's with his WHORE!"

*slightly choke on my own spit*

"Oh. I'm so very sorry."

"Yeah, she'll do stuff for him I won't so he just took off."

"Well, you told me he lives on Ensure, and I'm sure it's very difficult at 83 to be taking care of him alone at home."

"NO! She'll give him bl** jobs! I won't put that thing in my mouth!" (at which point she visibly shuddered) "Who knows where that thing's been? Probably up some whore's a**!"

*more choking on my own spit*

"So ... um ... Ima Jean ... er ... how's the kitten?"

(big smile) "Ohhhhh, she's doing great. Big and fat now!"

"That's wonderful."

Quick good-byes and she drives off.

Ever been hit in the head with a rock?

Well, now I can say I have.

My emotions have run the gamut today. I was sending Mar to the tent. She was escalating. I was in front of her. She picked up a rock - the perfect rock - light enough to throw hard, but big enough to do a good amount of damage.

Crap, it hurt.

Still does.

I cannot explain all the things I'm thinking and feeling. I'll try, though.

* I knew she was terrified about me leaving for the night on Thursday.
* I did not stop to think just how horrific it was for her to be alone so much with her dad in our trailer.
* I knew where it was all coming from, but didn't just give her the words - I was waiting on her to do all the work.
* I have no idea what it is like to be her and to have lived her life - I think I might have done worse than throw a rock at my mom's head.
* I spent twenty minutes talking her down, while she grabbed my glasses, pinched/squeezed by boobs, scratched and while my goose egg grew about three inches off my head.
* OUCH (I was thinking that a lot).
* It's very important to me to help her not feel guilty, now that she's regulated. Hurting others just makes her sicker.
* Holy hell, I wanted to hit her. She immediately ran, which protected me from my own fight/flight response. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God!
* I really don't know how to explain what it feels like to be so angry, and so guilty, and yet so worried for her heart all at the same time.
* Thank you, sweet Lord Jesus, that my dad or my husband were not witness to this (she would have never done it with them knowingly watching, but if they had caught a glimpse, their natural response would have been to body check her into a tree to protect ME).
* I put the rock in a special place to keep. Why did I do that? Why am I crying writing that sentence?
* What if she had knocked me out? What would that have done to her? GOD, thank you for protecting her from that ... from herself.

She was running from me. I said, "You know I'm going to restrain you and take you to the tent where you can't hurt me or yourself again." She actually stopped running and turned around, putting herself in the position to be restrained! In the tent was the gouging and scratching and pinching of boobage and bending in half of the glasses (yes, my favorite, funky glasses). I got nose-to-nose. "What else, Mar? What else do you have to do to know I love you? It's okay to do it, because I can't stop. I cannot stop loving you, and I know you cannot stop loving me." I started to cry. SHE STARTED TO CRY - not faky cry, but just a natural welling up of tears.

I was able to get her moving on to something else before I collapsed in my trailer in a heap of crying - wailing ugly cry face. It was feeling the goose egg which pushed me over the edge. I am focusing my rage on those who have hurt her before. I am focusing my eyes ... well, as best I can after a minor head injury. :)

I gave her permission to be okay, and to be forgiven, and to regulate and know she and I were okay ... because we are. Michael and I are now giving ourselves permission to NOT feel guilty over forgetting the reality of her past, and expecting her to do more than any human could do in her shoes.

I'm also giving myself permission to take more ibuprophen than what the bottle says.

I love my daughter.

I hate the circumstances which shaped her brain.

And I hate rocks.

Rocks suck.



(photo by Ann Jadne)

Pimpin' my park

NOTE: You can grab a button for our park over there on the right (scroll down).

Happy, Cammie??

Abilene cares about Reactive Attachment Disorder!

Yesterday I was to speak to a small group of people in the community of Abilene, Texas. The topic was "Understanding Reactive Attachment Disorder" (Any of the rest of you therapeutic parents laughing with me? Yes, I was thinking, "Who is speaking?? I really want to understand this?!? *grin*)

Anywho, last week the organizers were very thrilled 33 people had signed up to attend: some grandparents parenting grandchildren (the main thrust of this committee), social workers, some therapists, etc. Well, the numbers kept climbing into the 50's. Yesterday, however, when it came time to start, over 100 people were there and they were having to fight over empty chairs.

Let me tell you, these people weren't there just to get a macabre show on the details of the effects of trauma. Many of them really aren't sure if there is hope, and wanted to know and wanted to know their part. They truly cared. I think they all truly believe now.

Just wanted to share that with all of you (like me) who still feel so desperately alone most days. It was so very encouraging for me. I felt like I left this little army of people with the beginnings of resources.

GO ABILENE!

Do you ever doubt there is hope?

Seven weeks ago I linked you all to a picture of four starving children at the RHFH Rescue Center in Haiti.

Seven weeks ago.

Now check this out.

Sometimes we doubt our little bit of time and our little bit of money makes any impact on the world. Well, stop it, I say.

Hope is not dead. Hope is living and breathing and can be found. It starts right there with you.

Jason's Deli ... I had no idea

So, I'm driving five hours north tonight, to speak at a little conference thingy in the morning in Abilene. You know what that means, don't you?

Two things: a quiet hotel room, and eating ANYWHERE I WANT!

I'm searching and trying to determine just the right spot for dinner. I have eaten at Jason's Deli about a gazillion times, but it was years ago. Just for chuckles (and a love for all things salad and sandwich) I decided to put them on the list of possibilities.

That's when I went to their main page and watched the video of their owner.

Holy Hoochy! Check it out.

I had no idea.

So, passing over the Chuy's and the Pei Wei and Freebird's and La Madeleine.

Love you, Jason's Deli.

Now, only to decide if I'm going for the Mediterranean or Spinach Veggie wrap ... hmmmmm ....

Picasso's departure and the death of Willie Nelson

Tomorrow morning Picasso and his van camper are headed into town.

To have to ask someone to leave your park when they are loud or disruptive or violent, is one thing ... but to have to ask someone to leave because they simply refuse to do what it takes to live in community (the basics: showering, laundry, etc.) ... well, that sucks.

Picasso has always lived this way. To love and serve people, you HAVE to get to know them - well. So, we have spent the last month, every single day, getting to know Picasso. My kids love him. They can't get too close to him, but they talk his head off and love to hear his stories. We take him food. He is very kind. We had to know his story, and understand if his condition was a choice, or if he simply needed someone to help him in some areas of life.

I got what I THOUGHT was my answer, only to have another conversation and realize that my sweet Picasso was talking me in circles and would rather spend an hour pretending to do what is asked than actually doing it. Now, having children from a history of trauma, I know and fully understand that people find comfort in what is familiar, even if that familiarity is repulsive and disgusting to others. It doesn't make Picasso gross. It just makes him who he is, living a life structured around his journey and his history.

Yet, he has to share public facilities out here, and because of his condition ... well ... it takes a good hour before anyone can be where he has been - for a variety of reasons. We have these very open and frank conversations with him, and they are showered with a lot of "We have grown to love you" and "We care about you" and "We respect you" - because it's true and he is a good and kind man.

That's where it really sucks. "We love you" and "you must go." Granted, he needs to be in town. He does not have a car. He has to pay for rides or food runs. People DO take advantage of him and charge him extra for things. I've seen it. We have located a place for him where he can walk to a variety of food options. He will have more things to do. He will have more control over his life. That is ultimately what he wants. He has made that very clear. He wasn't okay with the things we were asking. It was just too much for him. At his new place, he can have some more freedom, and won't have to be sharing facilities quite so much.

So, tomorrow morning we say good-bye to Picasso. Although, we know right where he'll be and we will certainly be stopping by for visits. He is very, VERY appreciative of how we have worked with him. I don't think he has ever been treated so fairly and so lovingly. It's a hard situation, but we're all smiling and we all really do care about each other.

Which leads me to the ring leader in getting this whole move organized. We have another fellow out here at the park. He has lived here about four years (just he and one other couple are "regulars"). People call him Willie. They say he looks like Willie Nelson. I say he looks like Willie Nelson died ten years ago and is still walking around. :) And yes, I say this to his face. We have gotten to know Willie quite well. He is extremely weathered from a very difficult life (much of his own choosing). He has just about the worst case of smoker's voice I've ever heard (of course, now all seven of us can understand him and translate to others when necessary). He is starting to make some improvements to his life ... quit smoking for a whole week ... paid $20 for a bike and rides it daily now, and says it really does help with his leg pain. I can correct him if he's too loud, and he lets me (usually just because he can't hear himself). If his language gets colorful, I can cut him off and he lovingly accepts my reprimand. We can say, "Dude, DO NOT greet new people when they drive into the park! We've got it covered now, and you scratch where it itches without thinking twice, you crazy old coot!" He laughs, and in his gravel voice says, "Okay, okay, okay."

Willie lives on his governement checks. While he played hard throughout his life, he also worked hard and doesn't mind telling you so. He's like a gossipy housewife. That's his job. He toodles around in his little truck. He checks in with everyone. He doesn't mind helping out/getting in your business.

Sometimes that can be a very good thing. For instance, we started the process to get Picasso moved. We were waiting for final details so we could help make phone calls, or whatever else was needed. Well, Willie walked up this morning and had everything taken care of - EVERYTHING! He loaded up Picasso yesterday and drove him into town. He found the number at the RV place and got him on the phone with the manager to make those arrangements. He drove over to a friend's house to make towing arrangements. He chose a 10:00 am move time in the morning, and announced it to everyone.

Ba-bing-bang-BOOM!

I love that old coot. He sure did waste away a lot of years of his life, but he grows on you ... like a somewhat attractive wart. :)

Momma said there'd be days like this

I guess you would have to know MY mom to understand the title of this post. See, my parents have lived their entire lives on faith. Real faith. Like how-will-we-pay-for-food-this-week? faith.

I have watched my parents pray for money to fix various broken vehicles and important appliances, and then receive a check from friends whose business is doing well and they "wanted to share" ... and it covered every last penny.

I watched my mom pray for a bicycle ... and some friends GAVE THEM A CAR! Well, actually they sold it to them for $1, so they would only have to pay taxes on that amount.

I hear many stories from the days before my very existence, of them doing things God asked of them and just trusting. It wasn't always a car, or hundreds of dollars, but it was always, always, always just enough to take care of them.

Always.

And that is exactly what is happening to us. We are starting to see some business. Not a lot, but for now it is enough. I asked you all to pray for Picasso. I have lost a lot of sleep over his situation, and just kept asking God to give me a clear answer. I just couldn't reach a peace about anything. Then, yesterday, I got my peace. It was not ANYTHING like I expected. I'm disappointed, but we are 100% sure of what we need to do.

Michael has a parttime job! My super amazing, Master's degree toting man is doing some grunge work alongside teenagers and parolees. He is taking the work which is available in a tough economy. He is doing it well and with pride. He is AMAZING (not to mention he had to lose the goatee for this job, so he's also silky smooth for the first time in years - weird!). It was not what we expected. There are many, many other possibilities oiut there, but no one is in a hurry to fill the position. Yet, in the meantime, he has a job, he is meeting lots of new people who will enjoy having him in their lives, and he is a manager's dream. I am so very proud to call him my husband.

We have a very good housing possibility. It will be old. It will need work. It will not be an adorable Tiny Texas House. What we have now is all that we need, so this will be a perk. It will free us up to sell or rent the trailers we are in. MORE than what we need. Wow.

We are so very, very happy. Sometimes we're covered in bug bites. Many times we're dealing with kid issues. Occasionally I find myself thinking two months down the road, and just have to STOP, because I know there is a God who loves me and has always provided for me.

Those are the moments when I'm heading back to the shed, and see something tiny and crazy moving across the road ... to discover it's a dung beetle actually rolling along a piece of dung. All I can think is, "Holy crap! My park is better than any zoo!"

I have it all.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo is Jenn's sister - in Jenn's words: "She grows the fattest, most beautiful babies.")