An atheistic caramel chew

I enjoy chewing on things, mentally. One of the greatest gifts I have given myself is permission to truly study and understand those who are different from me in their thinking and their lives and their beliefs. It is humbling to realize how easily I categorized people under one label. I didn't think I did. I swore I didn't.

But, oh, I did.

I once lived in fear of spending too much time with those with whom I disagreed. In church lingo, I feared them "pulling me down" instead of me "pulling them up." Ugh. It's a big deal for me to say that out loud. That one hurts to read and confess. See, it is in being open to the world and to people which continues to solidify (as well as confuse) my beliefs and my theories and life choices. Yet, when certain things do come together, I can know that I came to that decision with true understanding ... not just what I thought was true. People are people - individuals. You can't understand them unless you know them.

So, I read a lot of statistics and studies, but I also realize they are a portion of the entire picture. One study does not a full determination make. Just doesn't. Man, wouldn't life be grand if it DID? We would have all the answers.

Yet, I find things fascinating. I find certain things confusing. For instance, the more intelligent you are the more likely you are an atheist or agnostic. My first response to that years ago? Well, of course! They're so smart they don't think they need God (not my response, but one that I regurgitated from some Christian writer or something-or-other). Well, on that same note, the more intelligent you are the less likely you are to be racist.

THAT is my caramel chew. It has been stuck in my teeth for quite some time. I read the stats, but I also read my friends. I see it. It takes years of sharing life and building relationships. Yet, it is there. It's not 100% across the board. Nothing is. But I refuse to just ignore it. What can I learn from this? Why? And to learn it I have to spend more time and share more of my life and listen without retort (holy crap, that's hard for me, because I like to say at least 45,000 words per day ... at least).

Years ago I would have just gotten mad at some of this stuff. Now, I have to listen to my own advice - errrrrgggg, I HATE that! I know that mad/angry is a miscue for what you're really feeling. I was typically feeling fear when my beliefs were challenged. Had to stare that one straight down. Had to determine the "why?" and work through it. Tough stuff. Does not happen overnight.

I don't share this kind of stuff often, because we're all in a different place, and some of you will immediately respond with anger. I seriously don't want to trigger that in you. This is just about hearing. Hearing to understand. That doesn't mean you have to agree. It also means that it can challenge your belief system and you can let it. Try to just chew on it. Whatever your initial responses are, hold on to them and chew. Taste it. Feel it stuck in your teeth. Try to figure it out. Learn something about yourself while you're learning about others.

It is a TOUGH discipline. I won't sugar coat it (no caramel chew pun intended). We are passionate people. That can be such a great thing! Allow it to be a part of sharing your life, but don't let it suffocate you. I'm speaking to everyone on every "side" (whatever those are).

Just try it.

So, here is the article which got me to munching on these thoughts again today: "Liberalism, atheism, male sexual exclusivity linked to IQ" by Elizabeth Landau, CNN.

Something I found last year: Jonathan Haidt's "Moral Roots of Liberals and Conservatives"

I'm currently reading Richard Dawkins' "The God Delusion" (yes, I realize I'm always a few years behind everything). I enjoy Dawkins. It's interesting to read how an atheist finds agnostics entirely too on the fence. :) He also had a wonderful presentation at TED (if you're not a reader) titled "Militant Atheism." That particular talk taught me a lot about myself and how I live out my faith - how I really don't listen and respond without understanding - how I stop listening and begin the debate in my head. My favorite portion is right around the 8:20 mark. I understand Richard Dawkins and I learn a lot from him now that I hear him.

Unwrap it and get to chewing.


(photo by Chris Chidsey)

T minus seven days and counting

In one week I will be sitting in Florida, regaining portions of my brain and heart which have gone into hiding.

I will be hanging out with a group of women I have never, ever met in real life. There are three, in particular, who have become precious email/phone friends as we all muddle through this gift of darkness we call special needs parenting. On the way home, I'm hoping I'll get to hug Lisa's neck for the first time EVER while I have a layover.

We have no agenda, other than to relax and hang out.

Corey.
Laura.
Kellie.
Beth.
Stephanie.
Rose.
Carrie.
Angela.
aaaaaaand me.

Today, I cry every time I think about it. Okay, so I'm crying about other things too, but this IS such a rarity for me. And by rarity, I mean IT NEVER HAPPENS. Mommy gets respite from everything, in a really beautiful place, staying in a really beautiful house, around all these really beautiful people. OH DEAR GOD, is this really happening?

We have had ongoing therapeutic interactions for almost two weeks running. You expect and know it will happen after major changes/events/tragedies, but still ... I'm spent.

On the flip side I have also had two sets of dear friends come through to see us. Both were from Blackwell, and just happened to come this way within days of each other. SUCH a treat. One amazing retired couple who totally surprised us - hello, Richard & Anita! We have been wondering all winter where they were, as they traveled along. Then there was a knock at the door and - SURPRISE! For all of you at our previous church, they were kind enough to catch us up on everyone. We miss you, we miss you, we miss you, WE MISS YOU! Anita never misses a blog post, and let me know I don't talk nearly enough about Michael. I have told her I only write about him with his permission - so my hands are tied. :)

Another family spent the night on their way to Phoenix (had four adults and ten kids in the house that night - crazy and FUN!). The Givans are one of those families who are rarities. Could talk to Kathy for hours. She's another mom who trudges through special needs parenting, and I can be completely transparent with her - and it doesn't freak her out! They were some of the few people who found out about this crazy move and life change and said, "Eh, yeah. That sounds about right." They just totally "got it." So, it was really wonderful to share it with them in person. Not to mention, her sweet baby boy let me hold him quite a bit, and he was quite delicious.

Um, and in case I haven't mentioned it, I get to fly away from my home next Friday. I do not have to come back for three whole days. If this is a dream, do not pinch me. I cannot guarantee what my fight/flight response might be.



(photo by Gavin Spencer)

Business takes time - you can fake the patience

It has been almost seven months since my husband and I packed up our five children, said good-bye to some of our dearest friends, and moved to south Texas to run our own business. It is also when I was able to add my favorite new tag to my blog: "holy crap I own an rv park."

In the early days, I had read several a million resources on owning a small business, particularly one that was a turn-around where you are basically starting from scratch. There was one constant, and that was how the first month would be a painful combination of your enthusiasm to get things off the ground and the ear piercing chirp of crickets as you saw not. one. single. customer.

We were not above average.

Due to many factors beyond anyone's control, this park had quietly retreated into its little nook, without many knowing it was here. No website. No catalog listings. It just existed for quite some time, with only a hint of a pulse. The phone did not ring. Not even automated sales calls! The silence kinda' made you want to jump off a cliff ... but all we had were hills.

The first thing we did was create our own website. I'm a do-it-yourself-er, when at all possible. I downloaded some free site building software, looked around the web for some ideas and starting points, and got to work. There is plenty of information available to help you with key words and such, so that people are finding you with web searches. I found a place to host it, published it, and immediately we began to get hits. Maybe only four a day, but that was so much better than the silent phone which kept mocking us.

I started to look at all the major search engines, to make sure we were showing up on their maps. If we weren't I found the appropriate links and updated that information. In some instances, that took about a month, because they weren't in a huge hurry to help us with those issues ... at no cost. Yet, that is when the hits kept growing, and we started to hear a strange noise - the phone was ringing! Weird!

If there was a free listing, I was all over it. Our advertising budget was sucked up quickly with two of the biggest campground publications. Those were no brainers, but writing that check, knowing the catalogs and listings were not coming out for another five months, was gut-wrenching. FYI: I have already checked in two paying customers this month now that those things are out there. Ahhhh patience. How I hate thee.

We have also chosen to participate in a multitude of low-cost camping clubs, where customers pay an annual fee and receive a substantial discount. These programs have helped us in two significant ways: even if it is half price, it is still money we would not have made on that site on that particular day; and it gets more people into our little nook out here. They leave with some brochures, warm conversation, perhaps a hot cup of coffee, and a fabulous impression they will want to share with friends.

RVers talk. They are your best advertising.

The phone rings daily, now. Sometimes those calls actually turn into paying customers. It has been less than seven months and we are seeing the fruits of our labor. Seven months ... that's not all that long in the scheme of things. However, you couldn't tell me that around month two. So, if you're not so good with the patience when it comes to your small or turn-around-business, just fake it. Then one day you can tout your self control and endurance to all your Chamber of Commerce buddies. They'll never know the difference.

I Choose Orgasm

Have you noticed February is almost over?

Or have you just been ignoring me, because you know I'm going to bring up sex again?

You have five more night-nights before we usher in March. Not that you can't HAVE sex in March (cause you should - lots of it), but we kinda' made this our thing. So, let's focus on February.

Five 24-hour periods to push yourself into more intimacy than normal.

What have your thoughts been this month as I have yammered on and on about bumpin' uglies? I'm guessing (look at me, therapeutic parenting you) there are plenty of you who found yourself a little angry with me. "You don't understand." Oh, but I do.

I know what it is like to NOT want it.

I know what it is like to view my husband as a dirty, creepy old man - even though we were in our 20's and 30's!

I know what it is like to cry at the end of it, because I let it happen so begrudgingly and with such a sucky attitude that it really did feel like I had let myself be violated.

I know what it's like to have your skin crawl.

I know what it's like to rather do anything else ... anything ... ever.

I know what it's like to pretend you're asleep ... or sick ... or on your period for the fourth week.

I know what it's like to think, "So, I feel this way. It's just the way I am. Get over it."

And I also know what it's like to finally face myself and understand that I am the problem, and there are solutions and there are better attitudes, but it will take work.

I had to do a lot of work to improve our sex life. I had to do a lot of work to improve MY sex life. You see, simplifying your life and changing your diet and getting as much sleep as you can and saying "no" to things and UNDER-programming your life ... it helps all areas.

So, the next time some chic tries to lay the guilt trip on you because you did not sign up to volunteer with the PTA for the Spring Carnival, you look them dead in the eye and say, "Well, it was either that, or finally have an orgasm again. I choose orgasm."

Okay, now THAT would make a great t-shirt.

"I Choose Orgasm"

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Ruxi K)

You mean you're NOT in the mood?

Very few things will knock a man's libido.

But one, yes one very tragic and macabre event can stop a couple from keeping their momentum and hittin' it for three days straight.



We will get through this. We appreciate your prayers.

My life as a freegan vegan flexitarian

There is no denying the amazing benefits of a vegan lifestyle. If you are regularly sucking down dairy, eggs and meat, you increase your chances of asthma, osteoporosis, and Alzheimer's. Your immune system is weaker (Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine).

Check out the diets of many professional and Olympic athletes. Yeah, they're no dummies.

More and more studies are showing that older adults who switch over to a vegan or vegetarian diet can prevent and actually reverse many chronic illnesses. My parents are currently living that out in front of our eyes. They have both dropped about 20 lbs in two months, are cooking together and eating at home much more often. In fact, I've never heard my dad talk so positively about food in my life. Strange to have him message me recipes. We've talked about a lot of things in my 37 years, but recipes is not one of them.

With all the February sex talk on my blog, I found it fascinating that Michael F. Roizen, MD, has found that meat eaters "experience accelerated cognitive and sexual dysfunction at a younger age." He's the guy that wrote "The RealAge Diet: Make Yourself Younger with What You Eat." I can definitely see the correlation between my libido and my diet changes.

So, after all these years and all I have learned, where do I land?

I'm a freegan vegan flexitarian. I guess.

I shoot for a vegan diet with more raw food than not. Some days I rock it. Some weeks I knock it out of the park. Yet, it is sometimes not possible.

The members of my family, first and foremost, are freegans. We accept all that is given to us graciously. When our neighbor thanks us with fish, we prepare and eat that fish. When we are invited to eat in someone's home, we smile and fellowship and share in the love with which everything was prepared. When a family gave us an entire processed steer, we ate and shared an abundance of red meat for a year. We are extremely thankful for all that has been given to us ... and we eat it.

We also live our lives as flexitarians. We have a dear friend who allows us free eggs from his hens. We know those chickens. We know what they eat. We watch them lay. Sometimes we get to bring them straight home and have some amazingly fresh egg sandwiches right away. Our friend also brings us raw cow milk, chock full of many beneficial ingredients which have not been destroyed through homogenization. It's a living food.

When we go out to eat, our children are able to choose what they want. It's usually really gross and full of cholesterol. It's occasional. It's okay, and it gives them the power of choice. I do not deny myself a fat piece of pizza when it's on the buffet. Sometimes two four.

As in most areas of my life, I do not fit neatly into a little label or check box. There is no denying the benefits of cutting out animal proteins. While I do not have a problem eating animals, their eggs or milk, I do have a MAJOR problem with how our selfish, wasteful and exorbitant American diet has caused us to show utter disdain for animals and the gift which is the planet Earth. We need animals. We need soil. We need trees. They are not a perk of life, they are vital to sustainability. Sometimes we crap all over it.

So, my family lives in a constantly shifting balance when it comes to our diet. We cannot go wrong with that which comes to us from the earth and nature. We focus on those things. We let our food be our strongest medicine. We choose animal products which are produced in a way which honors the balance of nature, the balance we are to manage. Yet, in those priorities, we also honor the people in our lives. What they choose to share is a gift, and we take it with much gratitude. We are blessed by their community and care.

It is a wonderfully healthy way to live and love.

My kids smoke at recess

What do YOU do when you find a full pack of Marlboro's in your driveway?

Hmmm ... you mean you don't let your kids play with them and tear them apart? You don't light one up and take a big drag to show them just how much smoke is in one single puff? You don't do the math to estimate how many puffs land in someone's lungs if they're doing at least a pack a day? You don't make smoke signals then sniff your hands? You don't have them calculate the monthly expense and then discover it could be used instead to buy a used car? You don't show them extremely graphic pictures and videos of the effects of Big Tobacco as they yell, "EWWW! Show us another one!"? You don't try to spell your name in cursive with the smoke? You don't take a few more drags and blow the smoke in their faces so you can discuss the reality of second-hand smoke as half of them hack and the other half say, "Again, Mom!"?

What? You would have just thrown them away?

Man, you are boring.






UPDATE: I think some of you missed out on the whole whole experience. My kids have been begging to light up and tear apart cigarettes, but I'm way too cheap to buy a pack (and our friends who smoke are too cheap to share enough for all five kids to have their own). I really did find a pack and we were all super excited. That's the kind of family we are. I know not all of you have been reading me all that long, but this was a totally fun unschooling experience for us. The kids had been playing school, so the big joke became "Okay, enough with the smoking! Time to get back to class!" It was something we did together ... and enjoyed ... cause we're really weird that way. My kids are the ones who said, "Can we look at lung pictures??" No one was sneaking anything, and it wasn't some sort of forced scare tactic. Sorry to disappoint.

And, of course, really humorous things are sooooo much more funny when you have to EXPLAIN THEM.

Frick.


(photo by david brauhn)

Libido Killer #273

Life happens.

I waited to start the Sex-Periment Challenge until February, because it was just too soon after the Haiti earthquake to do it in January.

Heh. Heh. Do it. Get it?

Wondering if your kids' birth family is alive or dead, and dealing with their behaviors ... yeahhhh ... can screw with ye ole sex life, particularly if you are trying to have a LOT of sex.

LIVING through the earthquake? Those people are just now thinking about holding hands again.

Then my husband was studying to pass that old advanced math certification dume-a-jiggy. Theorems and exponents make me HOT, baby. *cough* Then there is the stress of actually passing. Then there is the post depression of NOT passing the test by just EIGHT POINTS and him diving back into studying for the lower level test and then eventually the retake. "Oh, baby, right there ... right there on my surface area!"

While we were still having a fairly normal amount of sex, we certainly weren't setting any records. Things were settling down and I was all, "Okay - here we go - we are soooooooo knocking out a week straight."

Yeah, then Wes put a bullet in his chest.

FRICK!

Yet, the whole point of the Sex-Periment is to be having MORE sex. We are having more sex considering all the crap life has thrown at us this month. Years ago, I promise you, I would not have even let my husband put his hand on the small of my back during this kind of tough stuff. It was the first way I shut down. It was a dark cave I crawled into, and it just seemed easier to stay there, than to work my way back out to him.

Who knows? Maybe we'll get a full week in. It is in these times we need this connection the most. I make it a priority now, which is why rough life crap doesn't look the same in our bed as it used to.

What about you? What's your libido killer, and have you set up camp in your cave - having no plans to reemerge anytime soon?

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Mothers breastfeeding their babies while waiting their turn to see the doctor, a nun standing nearby. Paris, France, August 1946.

(photo by David E. Scherman)

I witnessed the most beautiful thing today

Wesley is gone.

Everyone who knew him is grieving.

All of the family finally arrived today. There are also people here in his life who are not biologically related, but are very close to him.

And there was no will.

Yeah, you can read between the lines. Thankfully, we were able to have the deputy sheriff swing by before everyone arrived. I smiled at him and said, "I know you do this kind of thing all the time. I know people are hurting. I'm going to let you do your job. Good luck."

I got the heck out of dodge while one person screamed their grief for quite awhile (side note: should have taken some video of that scene for the RV park web site - what a business draw THAT would have been!).

After a while, I notice the sheriff left, but every other person was. still. down. there. I walk that direction and heard something very strange. No yelling. In fact, I heard extremely calm conversation.

I arrived at Wes' trailer to find biological family and sharing-life family having a very polite conversation over where the trailer would go. They all agreed that Wes would not want them arguing over it all. "What would he want us to do?" That, after airing their fear and pain and concern, became the most important thing to everyone there. EVERY PERSON LAID ASIDE THOSE MASSIVE EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS AND FOUND A WAY TO UNITE AND MAKE DECISIONS.

Let me say that some of these people are never going to be hanging out together. They're not friends. Some of them have very little in common, except for Wes. And they put that aside. They spoke honestly, shared concerns but knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what Wes would have wanted (which focused on one young man who had been the closest person to him for these last several years).

They did it. That young man showed up, and only received words of love and encouragement. They all were fighting for him and his future and the horrible impact this has had on his heart.

It. was. beautiful.

The rest of the afternoon, while clearing things out, his brother cranked his truck stereo with all of Wes' favorite songs. Everyone laughed and cried ... a lot. There were stories after stories. He lived an insane and very unhealthy life until the last few years. It was comforting to hear how things played out over his lifetime.

Wes' trailer is gone. It is painful to see that empty site. The only thing our family has left from him is his old key for the park (on one of the old key rings with the old park name on it). We will be finding a very special place for it. He always wanted to be cremated, so he will find a resting place in Florida and Louisiana ... hopefully somewhere very near a gator.

Wesley Smith deserved every single bit of the tears and the passion and the effort and the reconciliation and the music and the laughter. He was worth it.

Crap. I want my friend back.

I really hate death

I hate death.

I wish death would die.

My sweet, wonderful friend, Willie, is gone. His life was full of pain, and was worsening. He decided it was time to go, and made a decision which I totally get ... but I miss him. I want him back. I wish we had found him a solution to his misery sooner, so he wouldn't have felt as though his hands were tied.



His name was Wesley Smith. He was in his 70's. The first time he met Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, he shared some pot with them. Waylon's wife kissed him, because the pot was so good (and he was very upset that I forgot to mention THAT on my blog). He would get the BIGGEST grin telling that part of the story.

He had two beds in his trailer. A picture of Willie Nelson hung over one. He slept under Marilyn Monroe. His centerpiece on his little kitchen table was an alligator head. He once went to prison for poaching gators while he was living in Louisiana. His key chain was an alligator foot.

We had been here about a month, when he hollered at Michael, "Hey! When you gonna' get some more women out here?" Yeah ... what would that personal ad look like?

He drank like a fish until a year and a half ago. His "grandson" insisted he quit ... and he did.

Speaking of his "grandson" ... he was Pawpaw to this sweet boy, though there is no blood relation. He started babysitting and caring for him when he was just a newborn. That family has become his family here (the rest of his family is in Houston and Florida). They spent most weekends together. He loved that boy. He loved him very, very, very, very much.

Wes swore he could not have a cup of coffee without a cigarette in his hand. So, he loved to say it was my fault he hadn't quit smoking - I always have coffee on. Several months ago, I picked up some flavored coffee. Wes doesn't like anything fruiffy or fancy. He refused to drink it. Refused. Actually, his exact words every morning were, "You got normal coffee yet, or you still making that other sh**?" To which I'd sass back, "I'm just trying to help you quit smokin', old man."

His vulgarity is not what it once was. He asked another preacher here at the park to pray that God would take away the bad language. Things changed a lot after that point. His words were still quite colorful, but the crudeness and excessive vulgarity were ... gone.

He loved my kids. He was aging, and never could remember anyone's names very well. He called Precious "Little Bit." She loved that.

He hated letting me take care of him after surgery, and hauling him to doctors' appointments. But he also loved me taking care of him after surgery and hauling him to doctors' appointments. One of the reasons I think he is gone is because he was hitting a point where he needed more help and more care. He would have done (and did) anything to not be completely reliant on someone else. I didn't mind helping him. But he did.

I loved how he would tell me the same stories over and over again. I loved how he griped about our old friend, Picasso, every. single. time. we. talked. I loved how his smile softened up his insanely gruff exterior. I loved how he asked if our kids had family in Haiti (after the earthquake) and then checked in every few days to find out if we had heard anything. I loved how he would press one wrong button on his universal remote, assume it was broken, go buy a new one, and cause my husband to roll his eyes asking him to come reprogram it ... yet again. I loved how slow he'd drive that old truck. I loved, loved, loved how he'd say, "Ah hell!" and kinda' shrug his shoulders.

I loved Wesley Smith. I miss him already.

This is a heart whoopin'

If you don't see shame in your traumatized child, please don't doubt that it's there. Now that mine can talk about it, I'm dealing with some serious guilt over how much she has felt so very deeply within her and how little I have honored that over the years.

I get it. I'm not Super Woman. I can't read minds. Even if I HAD been able to get an inkling of insight, I would have needed to shut down in those same moments just to keep on keeping on. Still, I'm her mother. When the healing DOES come, and the feelings CAN be genuinely expressed - splits. your. heart. wide. open.

It all comes down to one basic lie she has believed her entire life: "I am bad."

She has been strong enough lately to use words like "dirty" and "ashamed" and "bad" and "gross." Never before have these come out of her mouth, referring to herself. She has always been very passive in her phrasing - "I'm not good." Yet, they have always been there. She believes this about every single inch of her being.

Shame.

And at the same time, her behaviors soooooooo very piss me off. I hate them. I loathe them. I want to thump her on the forehead.

Today I want to swoop her up and hold and rock her in my arms, and sing softly while at the same time making her pay, and really giving it to her good so all of this will just stop!

It's a weird place to be. I've been here before. The parents' part of the journey is also confusing and complicated.

Listen to me: hearing her heart does not make it easier to deal with the behaviors.

The behaviors suck. I want to stop the behaviors. But I focus on the hurt and the truth which is underneath it all. Who she truly is. Who she was made to be.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Another baby born at Heartline yesterday.

Beth's status last night: "A policeman friend brought us a teen in labor after bringing her to three hospitals that would not take her. She is in early labor so we are all resting up for the hard work to come."

UPDATE: Just this morning, Beth posted, "Two babies in one day!"

Keep giving sacrificially.

So, how is the ... sex?

If you have not yet joined in on the 2010 Sex-periment Challenge, I encourage you to do so. It's a bit of a butt kick for those of us who may be in a relationship where the lights are dimming (not in a good way). The truth is, sometimes sex fizzles, and the days just keep passing by before we realize how much our physical relationship has flat lined.

Denise A. Donnelly is an associate professor of sociology at Georgia State University, and she studies sexless marriages. I can't decide if that is a fascinating endeavor, or if it leans more toward depressing. In her studies, she has discovered that 15% of married couples have not had sex with their spouse in the last six months to one year.

So, you're sitting at the Saturday morning soccer game. Look around you. Out of the ten families represented, there are approximately two couples on those bleachers who are NOT going bump in the night, and probably more.

For women, increasing the frequency of sex is not always easy. Stress, poor diet, lack of sleep and lack of exercise can all contribute to a low libido. Yet, being a woman and/or a mother can certainly LEAD to stress, poor diet, lack of sleep and lack of exercise. It is as if we can't win for losing. We love being women. We love our complicated and difficult roles in life. However, those roles seem to have shuttled "sex kitten" to the back corner.

We have to reorganize some things.

Bentley College in Massachusetts discovered that women in their 40s had sex about seven times per month when they were physically active. Those who were not physically active ... not so much! Just a 30 minute walk three times a week will stimulate your hormones, relieve stress and improve blood circulation. Thirty minutes is not all that long. Three times a week is not all that much. Make it a family outing. The kids don't have to know it's a form of foreplay!

Dr. Barbara Bartlik, assistant professor of psychiatry and sex therapist with the Human Sexuality Program at Weill Cornell Medical Center, says "Sex is really about circuitry." That means you can improve your libido by improving your neurological function. I take a fish oil capsule every night. It's great for my brain. Great for my heart. Also great for my va-va-va-voom. Gives new meaning to the "O" in Omega-3's. I also throw some flax seed in my food whenever I have the chance. I like to think of it as magical fairy libido dust.

Are you eating healthy? Did you know your liver metabolizes cholesterol and you need to be pumping in the good, healthy fats to keep that estrogen flowing? Studies for decades have shown a correlation between unhealthy weight and sexual issues. So see - it's not just about getting INTO your skinny jeans, but one day wanting to get back OUT of them. *wink-wink*

To top it all off, Donnelly also states couples who are having more sex report they are happier than those who are not. We do not just want to be happy, but most of us would like to be happy that we are wanting to have sex (and right now, we're still wanting to WANT to). We give and we give to those in our lives, and we forget about ourselves. It literally affects every inch of us. We have to choose to keep ourselves on the priority list. We have to give ourselves permission to say, "No, thank you," to that committee or another commitment ... so we can say yes to sex!

More of the therapeutic parenting vlogging

Pa-ching!

* Husband is taking his test on Tuesday to be certified for all levels of Math. It's a bear. He loves math ... but still ... bear. Won't know for awhile if he passed, which I think is just tooty.

* There is a group of guys who gather down the road every few weeks on a Saturday night and jam. They plug in and everything. Think they meet under someone's carport or something. You can hear the bass all the way down here. I need to walk down there some night. Heard the mic check earlier when I was pulling weeds. Willie says they're a bunch of drunks. Sounds right up my alley. Not to mention, the bass player sounds sober enough to hang pretty tight.

* We have several new people in the park and have had several leave. That's the nature of things. Our new peeps are so very nice. One lady came by to pay, I offered her a cup of coffee and she camped on my sofa and stayed awhile to talk. Has been through so much in her life, loves to be around people, and swats her husband mercilessly anytime he makes a crack about my hair. I like her very much.

* The Janssen's are coming soon. They'll be here for a while ... a spell ... whatever the kids are calling it these days. Sara has introduced me to another new friend via Facebook, and THEY are coming for two weeks in March. Such a treat. It was Summer who told Sara about us, when she read they would be headed to Texas. Friends bringing me more friends bringing me more friends.

* Did anyone else realize it's February? Geeezy.

* The good news? February means that it is almost March which means it is very close to me going to Florida. I have no words to explain how excited I am. I am long overdue for this hefty of a parenting break. Much needed. Way, very much needed. We've had some financial glitches along the way, and I have looked at my husband and said, "Honey, we can use my trip money for that," to which he has replied, "YOU. ARE. GOING. TO. FLORIDA." Sure enough, things have always worked out and the Florida money has remained untouched. I. AM. GOING. TO. FLORIDA.

* We have brought home every last thing from storage (meaning, Goodwill is LOVING us). Today, I broke down all the boxes and laid the flattened cardboard along the front of the house. Covered that with the four million leaves which have fallen from our very shady RV park. Hauled over tons of logs from a few dead trees which had to come down. BOOM - the base for a future flower bed. Cost = zero.

* I did fill one big box full of the packing paper. Crammed it in there good. Then hauled it out to our big fire pit spot in the field, turned it upside down and set that puppy on fire (from underneath). SO FUN. I love fire very much. It's the little things that make my day.

Therapeutic Parenting - The Power of Being Present

THEY ARE OKAY!

All seven are uninjured. They are receiving the provisions they are needing. Will receive pics tomorrow!

Adopting from Haiti

In the three weeks since the January 12th earthquake, which rocked the island of Haiti, there has been a tremendous increase in adoption inquiries. As the rest of the world watches, we cannot help but hurt and hope and desperately seek ways to help. Pictures of orphans and news stories of destruction cause us all to want to grab a passport and come home with as many children possible.

It is normal.

Yet, it is not practical. At this point in time, it is also not best.

Haiti's infrastructure is almost impossible for many Americans to comprehend. There is no public postal system as we know it. Chief Postal Inspector William R. Gilligan, Jr., of the USPS has recently stated "Members of the Universal Postal Union all are playing a role in rebuilding the Haitian Postal System." Yet, those who are familiar with Haiti know that means starting with basically nothing. If you pay for electricity, you are not guaranteed electricity in Haiti. It comes and goes in no predictable pattern. Infrastructure helps or hinders adoption.

The children of Haiti need every opportunity to be raised, in Haiti, in a safe and healthy home (even if, right now, it is a tent). Due to the recent catastrophe, it will easily take weeks, possibly months, to locate family of displaced children. Yet, for the sake of these kids, that must be the main focus at this time.

Just this week, Licia Betor of the Real Hope for Haiti Rescue Center (RHFH), talked about a young boy who had been treated at the US Comfort ship. International rescue teams pulled him from rubble three days after the quake. There were nine members of his family living in his home. He was the only one to survive. The people at RHFH worked diligently to find more extended family. They discovered his father was living, but the two had no relationship. Finally, an uncle was discovered. "The family has no house to live in so we will keep him here awhile long to recover. His uncle is working on finding a place for them to live," said Betor.

This boy will remain in his country, with family he knows and with whom he already has a bond. That must remain the main goal for now, as more people are located and more families are reunited.

On the flip side, UNICEF has certainly been at the fore-front in the adoption discussion during the past three weeks. I do not agree with UNICEF's hardcore stance against international adoption. While UNICEF does many things well, they have hurt and hindered children in this area. In the areas of poverty, political unrest and lack of infrastructure, I believe there has to be a balance. UNICEF does not agree.

In 2008, after excessive pressure from UNICEF, Guatemala agreed to try a very radical approach to their orphan crisis. Adoptions outside the country were closed, and an aggressive campaign began to recruit foster and adoptive homes. In October of that year, Oscar Avila of the Chicago Tribune wrote a piece on this program titled, "Guatemala Seeks Domestic Fix to Troubled Overseas Adoptions." He reported that the program was not only questionable, but appeared to be falling on its face. "Only about 45 families in a nation of 13 million currently have taken in foster children since the program began this year," Avila wrote.

So, should we adopt from Haiti? Should we not?

Yes.

For now, we must wait. For the children and all they deserve, we must wait. It is okay to be fighting for those already in the process. Those children have been matched. Those regulations have already been met. Yet, for those who just now appear orphaned, we must allow time for their story to be uncovered and their appropriate "forever" to be secured.

When the time does come, I encourage everyone who has an interest to begin to ask a lot of questions and truly learn what it is to raise a child from another race and/or culture. If you don't love Haiti, you can't love these kids. So, it's okay to find out and uncover whether or not this is more for you than just a tugging of the heartstrings. I've had plenty of tugs in my life, but the actual parenting part requires some heavy-gauge wire!

In the meantime, there are some efforts beginning to surface in ways which we can all help children in Haiti, by helping families. Keep your eyes on Heartline Ministries as they hope to soon be announcing the opportunity to sponsor an entire family. How wonderful to give a family what they are lacking to provide for themselves, and keep children with their first loves.

The children of Haiti deserve our effort, our voices, our understanding ... and our patience.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Photo by Amy King - "I am so. very. thankful. for the latte & blueberry scone I'll be having for *breakfast* .....so many in Haiti want breakfast, too. The babies want milk. The mommas want their milk to. come. in.

From Dr Tom re: our new challenges at the hospital.....
'Every patient is now dehydrated. We had a patient's family member faint....and now she is a patient herself. This is ***not*** a 6-month disaster. We. are. a. refugee. camp. now.'

Beth told momma that if she tried to feed baby for 15 min...we'd give her a bowl of rice & beans...."

That's the Beth we've all grown to know and love at Heartline. They still need us. Every day they need us.

2010 Sex-periment Challenge

It's February. The month of loooooooove.

So, what better time than to put out a big, fat challenge to all of us in the whacka-whacka department?

It was a year ago that my husband and I had seven straight days of sex, beating the Ed Young Jr.'s and only being outdone by one other couple (who, I'm pretty sure, have sexual organs made of steel - is that a "missionary" thing?). I've been wondering why I haven't asked the rest of you to join in. It was such an interesting (sometimes itchy, sometimes awkward, sometimes just-get-er-dun and ALWAYS challenging) experience. I wasn't sure Michael would be up for it again (bu-dum-bum-CHING!), but he was all, "Why not?"

So, here is the challenge: in the month of February, have more sex than you are currently having. YOU decide. Do you want to try for one full week? Two nights in a row may be a big step for you. Heck, I've been in libido hell and kept the goods to myself for months on end. So, if you're in that predicament, you may want to plan for one actual sexual encounter this month. Because, seriously, planned no-frills sex is ALWAYS better than no sex at all.

The point is to get us connecting again, physically, with our spouses. In case you haven't been around long, I've run the whole gambit on whoopie (for encouragement, you can read everything I've written on the subject here).

I'll be checking each Monday to keep us all on track. The hubster and I will be doing another week-long venture, but have not yet set a start date. You can grab a button below and spread the love. You can blog about it. You can hate on it. You can send me a private email about your experience (or apprehension - or both) and I can print our stories anonymously. Whatever. You can reach me at christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

So, make a goal. Write it down. And (for lack of a better term) ... DO IT!

Grab the code!

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