Freaks make the world go round

My life is crazy, but I love it.

Wait ... "love" is not a strong enough word.

I adore my life.

The people who fill it up are the reason it is so very rich.

In our RV park, we currently have families participating in the Texas State Junior High Rodeo Finals, several contract workers doing the exact work but for competing companies, my two retired couples who make me chuckle regularly, several weekender's leaving today now that the holiday is ending, and one of my favorite nomads who just painted his toenails green, dyed his beard blue and sported his brand new kilt for me while helping us attempt to work on a dryer (LOVE me some Sam!).

Needless to say, Mr. Green Toes and I joke a lot about being freaks. Yet, it hit me yesterday, as I walked through the park and reveled in this crazy eclectic gathering ... we are all freaks.

The retiree may think the kilt guy is a freak.

The pressed khaki pants dude may think the cowboy is a freak.

The gal with the perfect manicure may think the dreaded chic is a freak.

The nomad may think the 9-to-5er is a freak.

But ... there are the growing few ... those who open their eyes and their heart to the beauty and the amazement around them ... they see no freaks. They see people. They see variety. They find their greatest treasures in the oneness underneath the differences.

Because we're all freaks.

We're all wonderful.

Let your freak flag fly, whatever it may be.

Freaks make the world go round.




(photo taken right right off my porch)

This is how you remind me of what I really am

Day #4 for us in the Attachment Challenge.

I got schooled.

Had an okay morning. Some of the playing dumb. Asking her to unlock my door to the car and she "did it wrong" so it was still locked. That kind of stuff.

Late in the afternoon, everyone else was headed to a picnic. We were staying home to get some people checked in at the park. We started to talk about making some CBT type of coping cards. Basically, I wanted to help her choose some of the lies she believes, so we could write them on cards, followed by truths. These will be things she can read often, and pull out when she is hearing those lies deep within her.

NOTE: again, today, she was wearing a very non-matchy outfit.

So, we were going through some ideas. I finally said, "Well, let's talk about your big feelings you have when you get dressed every day." She started to deflect. However, it was so quick and so NOT where I was going that I really thought for a minute I was not being clear. So, I said, "Honey, I'm sorry. Don't think I'm being specific enough. When you are standing at your dresser and about to pick out your clothes, right THEN ... what are you feeling right then?"

Wow.

And ... crap.

She broke. She did not try to make it into a situation where she tries to make people think I'm a bad mom. She just broke and angrily talked about how she feels about herself.

Now, I'm not saying that the bad-Mom thing has never been her goal - I think in the earlier days it definitely was, and was based in fear and loss of control. However, our kids talk most easily about what is NOT true. And that's always been her story when it comes to this. Today, though ... today she showed me the truth.

Denise Best talks about how the healing children in her practice show over and over again that most of our kids' behaviors are based in extreme shame (not her feelings, but the actual words from her patients). I have heard it and read it all over the place. Yet, I just always assumed there was something more to it. It was easier to assume they just really want to be mean. It was easier to believe it was all about me and fighting off me and hurting me.

I was wrong.

More than anything, it is about how she feels about herself.



Our kids feel gross and dirty and worthless.

After I allowed myself to process my guilt for not acknowledging this particular area of her life like I should, I found this page on shame and how to overcome it. This part really stuck out to me (emphasis is mine):

"Like all of us, they have a deep need to be known and to be seen and to be recognized "for who I really am." But since they actually believe they are worthless, they have a strong need to prove their worthlessness to everyone in their lives.

They don't hurt their families and friends because they don't love them or because they want to hurt them. They hurt their families and friends out of this need to be "known" - and out of the wrong belief that they are worthless."

It was a very massive and serious reminder of the power I have. What does she see about herself in my eyes and voice and embrace? What do I tell her about her?

I think Nickelback was speaking for my kids when they sang:

"This is how you remind me of what I really am."






*follow the Attachment Challenge on Twitter via the hashtag #10hugs


Have you been blogging about the challenge? Please link away below so we can cheer each other on! NOTE: put a link to specific posts, not just to your blog in general. You can come back here all week and add more and more links - your name with a quick post title in parentheses. Example: "Christine (This is how you remind me)". That also ensures that when some Mom starts parenting trauma a year from now, she can find this post and all of yours and get her freakin'-out butt encouraged!

Each time I tell myself, I think I've had enough ...

... I'm gonna' show you, baby, that a woman can be tough.



It's Day #3 of the Attachment Challenge in the Moers home.

It has been, um ... hmmmm ... a little rough?

Yesterday was great. I was not happy or feeling mushy, but she was deeeeeelighted. Even playing dumb did not stop the make-up application extravaganza. We talked puberty (zits and toners and what-not). It was good stuff. I did not get sarcastic. I stuck to my guns. I was cursing all of you in my head for knowing you would be checking in (see me right there being all RAD - making it your problem when it was my idea?). I learned from the best.

So, this morning she came straight into my room first thing, "Mom, can I have a hug?"

Doesn't seem like a big deal, except for the fact that it went against three immediate guidelines we have for her (there to ensure safety and success). Well, and she was wearing a painfully clashing ensemble. That is one of my easy indicators of her mood. She dresses very poorly on purpose ... so people will think I dress her (the almost 11-yr-old), and feel sorry for her.

Anywho, it kinda went down from there. When they are looking for a fight, they are good. They are like stealth warriors who will stop at nothing to meet their goal. So, my first three hugs we the non-squishy variety. Got to hug a very I-don't-want-you-to-hug-me gal. [enter sarcasm] That, and a danish, and you have the perfect start to your day!

I decided to have her run an errand with me. We could do some processing in the car, and then as a surprise, I would ask if she wanted to go out lunch with me for Mom time. I started the conversation: "Yesterday seemed to be a great day. Today ... mmmmmm ... not so much. So, let's talk about your feelings when you first woke up."

She did not want to answer. Well, she did not want to go deep. She's what the experts call a therapized kid - she can spout off lots of therapy words and phrases to avoid the real issue. Got a lot of that. So, I just sat quietly, with the occasional, "Honey, you're not in trouble, and if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. But if you do want to talk, let's do the work - together. Your choice. I'm okay either way." More with the silence on my side. Oh my goodness, can that girl have an argument with herself! It's amazing! At one point she was flopping around, literally nose-to-the-window away from me. Would put her hand up to hide herself from me. Could not get me to engage.

For some reason, I had the song "Tomorrow" stuck in my head. Just put it on *repeat* in my brain and waited it out. We stopped to pick up some equipment for the park. Then back in the car.

"Honey, I really thought you would have enjoyed going out to lunch with me for your Mom Time today. I wanted that, too. However, you keep yelling at me to leave you alone and go away. I'm not sure what you want. I'm not mad at you, but you seem really angry. This must be hard."

"YEAH, GOOD FOR ME!"

I hate it when she gets like this, but it also gives me some of the funniest catch-phrases to use for my own pleasure. From now on, if you say something to me and I would rather ignore you, I'm just gonna say, "Yeah, good for ME!"

It was last year that my darlin' coined the new curse word we are all using with ferver: jerk a**!

"Would you like to talk it? I'm not upset with you."

"Cause you're the MOM!" Hands over the face, the fake cry and that's when the banging started. Hitting the window, door and dash. Just general yelling. This was even after telling her that she absolutely did not have to talk about it. Just really, truly wanted a battled and wanted to choose a consequence.

I pulled over. We were at KFC. I did not really want to eat there, but I also did not plan on having to ask my child to get out of the car. "Sweetheart, you are no longer being safe. If you feel like you can calm ..." "SHUT UP!"

*which, in our home, is secret code for ...*

"Sure, I'd be happy to come around and help you get out of the car."

Of course, by the time I get out of the car, she was getting out and slammed the door just as hard as she could. I told her that I would drive back around and pick her up once I was done ordering. She smacked the side mirror and yelled, "Leave me ALONE!"

Happily, my dear ... happily.

KFC is not a favorite, but their biscuits do make good comfort food!

Got my food and pulled back around in the parking lot. She came up and just stood at the window, staring at me. "Honey, why don't you get back in once you have fixed the mirror." She did. Of course, it wasn't in a calm and cool way, but she did get it done.

On the way home, she regulated and apologized, so I made my guess (one day we'll be able to do this first thing ... one day ...). "I'm going to guess you had a great time yesterday. However, the lies inside of you told you all night long that you don't deserve good things, so you went looking for a battle today. Why do you think you might have done that?"

Big explosion WITH tears, "BECAUSE I'M BAD!"

We broke it down slowly. The big clincher is because she has done so many bad things. And why has she made these choices? Oh, right, because she was hurt. AND ... what if ... she had always gotten everything she needed? What if there was no extreme poverty in Haiti and all of her needs were met?

"I wouldn't have RAD and I would not have moved a bunch and been hurt more and I would still be with my birth family."

"Right. What would you be? How would you be?"

"Like everybody else."

"So ... you weren't born this way. The only reason you act the way you do is because of what happened to you. YOU are not bad."

We practiced saying affirmation phrases.

And we arrived at home and carried our conversation into the kitchen where we hugged and she made a sandwich.

Six hugs thus far.

Painted fingernails for a bonding activity.

She requested 20 minutes of sewing together (she is trying to remake an old pair of pants into a skirt). Knocked that out, and broke off a needle at the tail end of it.

She has since apologized for her crazy in the car, and was very worried she did permanent damage to the side mirror.

I'm tired.

But I'm still in.

Everybody's doing it - it'll make you popular

Many people are taking the challenge.

Personally, I have seen massive changes in my girl. She is in heaven. Sure, that totally peeves me. Especially when we are doing our bonding activity, and she plays dumb. BUT ... we kept going. She did not lose any part of the challenge stuff. She is asking me for hugs.

Last night around 7:00 she asked for a hug. I said, "Wow, we're already up to nine. Just one more!" She said, "Mom, we don't have to stop at ten."

OUCH.

Crap, so I DO need this as much as she does.

What some people are saying so far:

Gold to Refine said exactly what I was thinking - this is great for ANY parent!

Rachel is in, and knows we need it as much as our kids.

Think you're the only one who loathes the idea? Rachel used the word "loathes" ... ya' know ... cause she's NORMAL!

Can a conversation about pit hair count as bonding time? Just ask Kerrie. Cheer her on, and tell her I sent you.

Cate realizes how quickly the time flies, and before you know it - a day with no hugs!

We're getting a play-by-play from GB's Mom.

J is getting a running start, and beginning the challenge on Sunday.

And last, but so way very NOT least ... dude, Jennie is in. She's IN. She hates me, and she is throwing darts at my profile pic, but she. is. in. AND, she's taking it up a notch. Ya' know, J, all that hugging may just squeeze the poo out! Could have surprising benefits! *as she ducks ... the dart misses Christine by a hair*

Day 1 - I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!

I don't think I've had so many people tell me I suck, in a 24-hour period. Yet, I can take it, cause I'd do the same to you. Knowing I'm not alone in this Attachment Challenge makes is easier.

Oh, who are we kidding? No it doesn't.

So, how do we actually DO this when we don't want to? Why did I get four million emails yesterday, asking this question?

To start with, I would suggest making a big, phat blog post about it so you know approximately 800 people are checking in on you daily (crap, what was I thinking?). Some of you are setting your phone alarms as reminders - genius. I have already started a chart, and I'm X-ing things off with a Sharpie.

You can also start following the Twitter hashtag: #10hugs We can be cheerleaders to one another. Tell us how we're making it work. Talk one another down off our ledges (in 140 characters or less).

But really, how do you DO it? Well (note: Christine is about to piss you off again, so grab something to throw) ... you remember that you are the grown-up.

You.

The adult in this situation.

Your child did not ask for their trauma and they did not ask for you. They just want a friggin' chance in this world, and this little challenge does not even barely braise the surface of what we ask of our kids ... not even close.

Yes, we are traumatized. Yes, we all have cortisol levels off the charts. Yes, some of us actually have PTSD because of our experiences with our very own kids. Yes, yes, YES! These are not just words. I am not throwing around exclamation points lightly. For some of us, this is triggering a physical reaction. We are committing to something really, really hard. And holy hell, if we can't do THIS ... we cannot expect our kids to do their end of the work.

Friends, if we don't do this, we'd be idiots to think our kids will ever do the work in our home. These are just the basics. They are not optional - they are vital. If we can't force ourselves to do the basics, WE NEED HELP FOR OURSELVES.

Did you read it in the comments yesterday? The underlying theme bubbled to the surface - if we are having such a reaction just thinking about doing this, then it is obvious we need to do this. We need it as much as they do.

How can you take the pressure off of yourself? How about tell your child that the TWO of you are going to join a challenge. Show them your chart! Tell them you will both win a reward at the end of the week. Then, you have added some motivation to the mix. You know I don't mind being honest ... so here goes. I HATE the part of the challenge where I let her choose what she wants to do. Hate it. HATE IT. Yesterday was hair braiding day. I had already started this whole thing. So for most of the DAY, she got to choose TV programming, where we sit, etc. I let her ... multiple times ... and today it is not yet easier for me to do that part of the chart.

I'm not there. Not feeling it.

But I'm gonna' put on my big girl panties, and I'm gonna' do it. I'm telling myself what I tell her every single day, "What will happen if you do the right thing? Are you afraid you might die? Well, let's try it and find out. If you die, we'll have a lovely service and play all of your favorite songs." I joke, but I'm realizing this week how little empathy I allow myself to have for her in those moments. For Pete's sake, I don't want to let her choose one fun activity a DAY. I don't want to give her that little tiny bit.

Yet, I ask her to give me everything. I expect her to be strong beyond comprehension. I expect the 10-year-old to more brave and take more risks than the 37-yr-old.

That's screwed up. I'm screwed up sometimes.

So, start throwing whatever you have in your hand. That's your computer that will take the hit. ;)

The Attachment Challenge

When traumatized kids are having times of whickity-whickity-whack, all of the basics tend to go out the window.

Those basics then become painful for us to do. Sometimes they are nauseating. No one can ever explain to you what it feels like. Knowing you NEED to hug your kid 10 times a day, but this is the same child who has violently pushed you away with every breath ... it's not normal and it. is. not. easy.

I get it. If no one else in your life gets it, my friend, I GET IT. Traumatized kids have a deep desire and need to repel others because they believe they can only trust themselves. They do it, not just with their words, but their very stance ... walk ... facial muscle tone ... breathing. Some of you are thinking, "What the heck, lady?" while others are jumping up and down in front of their screens right now screaming, "Yes! YES! She really DOES GET IT! It's not just ME?!?!"

Yup. Just the way they walk ... or stand. It's enough to make you go running down the road screaming like a lunatic.

Our kids have such a high cortisol level that their body odor is not "normal." Don't believe in the power of our own scents and pheromones? Live with a traumatized child. Unfortunately, their body chemistry is working in the opposite direction of what most of us would want. It's not typical body odor. It is not immediately repulsive. It's just a slow constant. I cannot put it into words, but many of you experience it.

So, I realize what I'm proposing today is going to really tick some of you off. Like ... really. I am going to ask you to make a one-week commitment to three of the basic tools of attachment ... with ... YOUR child. Yes, THAT child. The child whose clothes you can't stand to fold, and you're not even sure why, but just holding them and looking at them triggers a post traumatic stress reaction to your core.

Yeah ... that kid.

And I'm asking for A WHOLE FRIGGIN WEEK just a week. I also expect you to come up with some sort of reward at the end, for yourself. The emotional aspect of love is reciprocal. When you are the only one giving, it chokes the emotional feelings until they are completely dead and gone. Nada. Zilch. Not even a tingle. You need to reward yourself for doing this every day for a week - for giving your child the life-changing medicine they so desperately need, even though it is really difficult and challenging for you to give it to them.

I will be rewarding myself with food. Probably something involving chocolate and ice cream. I will not decide until the week is over, but it will be fattening, and it will be EXACTLY what I'm craving on that day.

Here is the Challenge:

10 hugs a day
10 minutes of FUN attachment-inducing games (involving touch and/or eye contact)
20 minutes of doing something fun YOUR CHILD wants to do

For seven days straight. They cannot lose any of these things - no matter what. They get it every day for a week - no matter what.

Make a chart, if you need to. I have to make a chart. With five kids, it's amazing how fast the day goes by without meeting therapeutic needs. Ten hugs a day is A LOT. I also am making it a challenge so I WILL DO IT! I'm not super human. I don't want to do this. I still have the hurtful things that were done and said over the past 30 days swirling in my head. I need accountability. Congratulations - you're all my accountability partners. We need the refresher. I need the refresher. I know I need it, because I hate the idea so very much.

So, comment that you're doing it with me, if you want. More than that, blog or journal about the week. I would love to link to any of your posts next weekend. Tell us how it goes, what you hate, what you discover, what you see in your child, etc. I'll do the same.

The comment section is also a great place to list ideas for the 10 minutes of bonding activities - finger play games, clapping games, stare contests, relay races holding things forehead-to-forehead, etc.

Here we go ...

Recon an old shirt and recon your soul

What do I do when the crazy is topping the charts and I'm just simply too tired to out-crazy it?

I stop.

I stop whatever I am doing.

Usually, that means I am writhing in anger over my kid's dysregulation. I want to scream or throw something or pull my hair out. I WANT to engage in their fight, cause it would feel sooooooo good to get out some of that aggression I now have starting to seep out of my ears.

So, I stop.

I say to myself, "Ya' know what? I'm stepping away from that. I'm going to make something."

or

"I'm going to read something."

or

"I'm going to play some stupid computer game for like an HOUR."

Anything. Whatever. And when my child yells something or sasses or says, "What are you DOING?" I can smile and say, "I'm remaking this shirt. The armpits were really stained, so I'm cutting them out so I can wear it some more." "YEAH, cause you're so GROSS!" "I sure was with these yellow pits."

"Well, I don't WANT to put away my plate!"

"I know. Hey, check out how cool this collar looks!"

See what I'm doing there? I'm literally stepping out of the battle. Sometimes my child will keep trying to engage. Then it just becomes comical. Sometimes they may actually do that one little tiny thing they chose to battle over. Sometimes they won't. Almost always, they will regulate, because they're not getting a rise out of you. They want the fight. And yet ... you ... are just sitting there doing something else?

And in the process, perhaps you get a book read or get a high score on Free Cell or recon a shirt so that it is wearable again?!?






Sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away and do something else and just let the battle go. Well, and THEN take silly pictures of yourself that look like you have to go pee (what is up with THAT?)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Earlier I had sent the pic of my daughter and Haitian mom, this picture is one that Marijke (the missionary from the Netherlands) took while we were up in the mountains in Haiti visiting my daughters birth family & home. She's my daughter's Haitian family's neighbour."

(photo by Sue, a reader)

If you have a Magical Milk pic you would like to submit to this series, send it to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com - please include the name you want listed, as well as your web site or blog

Fun new trick

Today, with some interesting outcomes, I have tried a new little thing:

"Wow, look at that right there. You had a big feeling and did exactly what you FELT like doing. Here's a crazy idea. Why don't you try a do-over and do the exact OPPOSITE of what you felt like doing ... ya' know ... just for fun."

It will get old. It won't last. But it sure is de-escalating a lot of crap today. YEA for fresh ideas.

This is one of my favorites, because pretty much every single day of therapeutic parenting I have to choose to do the complete opposite of what I feel like doing. We have talked about that today, in fact. How sometimes I want to scream (not just at her, but at lots of people - some moments of life sure would be easier without all these darn people - lol). Yet, I do the opposite of what I feel like doing. I have yet to regret doing the opposite of what I want to do when experiencing a negative feeling or emotion.

FYI: just now this resulted in her smiling, taking a deep breath and saying, "Mom, I saw that the yarn had fallen into the laundry basket, but I did the laundry with it in there on purpose."

WOW!

FYI PART DEUX: I found a smile and totally faked my joy over this accomplishment. I'm still reeling from the last few weeks (particularly the last seven days). This is what we call "Fake it Til You Make It." It's hard to just BOOM - have genuine loving feelings when you have been nit-picked to death for approximately 200+ hours straight. You do the opposite of what you feel.

Chock it up to one more tool in our arsenal, guys and gals. We are fighting a history, not our children. They didn't ask for it. We can do this.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can ...

Puberty and RAD

I have always wondered what puberty would do to my more extreme RAD child.

We're figuring that out.

There's a reason the professionals really push to get them help and healing before that major change in their system.

Dear Lord, I'm tired.

I have an amazing friend whose now-adult daughter had a severe trauma history. She used to talk about how she wanted to rip out someone's eye balls when they said, "Oh, yeah, those teenage years are tough." Because some of us would KILL for the normal horrendous teenage years. She and I would laugh about how you can't be the Debbie Downer at a brunch and say, "Oh really? So your daughter tries to harm animals? She throws used feminine hygiene products at you in a rage? No? Not the kind of drama you're talking about?"

We have to just sit on it.

And how do I get through it? I ask everyone out there to send me something funny and you all came through. MAJORLY came through (including Facebook, Twitter and emails, I was just about to wet myself from laughing!). I get sweet voice mail messages from a friend saying, "Are you okay? I'm a little worried." And I'm not picking up because I'm on the other line with a friend who has a child (believe it or not) going through even crazier, more complicated stuff.

And I get a babysitter and do not worry about them triangulating and manipulating the sweet high school kid. I go hang out with some of my favorite grown-ups, and enjoy alone time with my favorite Michael and I watch movies and let the house go to crap.

Oh, and I also "found" (thank you, Corey!) a possible respite option close to a fun city where the rest of us could hang out, drama free, for several days. Just having it in hand is magical. I may or may not sleep with this piece of paper under my pillow. *wink*

Please note that my other traumatized child has been taking puberty in stride. It's not across the board, and each of our kids are affected in different ways. However, you all have been following along. It was not a major stretch to think this might really get to my daughter on a much deeper level. It's bad enough giving up a constant need for control, to then have your body start to do stuff without your permission.

Speaking of ... she just popped her head into the room, totally regulated, and asked if I might want a foot rub. WOW! Gotta' take it while it's hot. See ya'!


(the amazing graphic design is by Riyas Hamza, used with permission and utter awe)

When you want to cry so hard, you can't

I've been holding it together quite nicely, considering. Then along came Stellar-pants and Miss Essie-lou.

Holy flood gates, Batman. I finally got the release I have been looking for.

We have gone so very far backward this month ... sort of. This whole actual healing part has been the toughest part for me. It's harder. It's more complicated, and it is raw ... exposed. Want to know your own crap? Parent a traumatized kid. Cause you have to work through it ALLLLLL.

My daughter has had horrible things happen to her. In the process, she has acted out and done some horrible stuff, too. These things happened when she was completely unattached. She could shut off her feelings. She had zero empathy for anyone or anything.

Now, though ... now she feels. Now she has empathy. Now she cannot hide from her shame at. all. And she is feeling and reeling from all she has ever done.

Much of that stuff happened in our home. So, we are having to relive most of it to work slowly through the shame (taking regular and MASSIVE breaks so as not to re-traumatize any of us).

I have this mixture of empathy, but then still plenty of my own trauma. I can embrace my child one minute while not even being able to handle being in the same room with her the next. I can walk her through some steps and help her be incredibly strong, and then need to run to the bathroom so I can cry because I was reminded of so much of my own hurt from her hands.

Little Miss Fancy Pants Therapeutic Parent has done her best to work through things as they came at me, but some have been big. Healing from trauma takes time, even for the parents. I catch myself saying, "Nope, nope, nope Mr. Brain. Do NOT go there. Too painful. Gotta' get her through this first!" But at some point, I have to. I HAVE to go there.

I hate going there.

I know it's harder for her, but this past week has been really, really, really, really, REALLY hard for me, too. And I am claiming it. BAD Mommy Week. I will cry, and I will hurt and I will grieve and I will take care of me (and when someone offers to buy me dinner, I will say, "THANK YOU!" and let them), and I will go on therapeutic auto pilot for a bit until I have done business right here in my own self.

Then I'll get back on it.

In the meantime, someone tell me a funny joke or send me a funny video - STAT! I lost my funny yesterday, and it's not where I normally put it.

More clothing reconstruction

Friends gifted me some clothes. I had to break out the sewing machine. Check it.

From this:



To this:





And then this big boxy T:





To this little number of sweetness:





Having some rough days? Make something ... anything. DO IT! Does wonders for the soul.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"This picture was taken just an hour after my C-Section and while it's a horrible picture of me [side note from Christine: um - WHATEVER!! You look beautiful!] ...I think it would be lovely for people to know you can latch pretty soon after surgery if you have to use that option. Even though I couldn't really sit up the nurses helped me get a great start in our breastfeeding future just as soon as I asked if I could. A loved being skin to skin from that moment on. (Taken 4-22-2010)"

(photo by Allie)

Have iPhone, will travel ... with your State Lines app

Great things happen at my RV park. The latest and greatest is the launching of State Lines, a new app for iPhone created by my friends over at Technomadia.com.

It was just a few weeks ago when Michael came into the house shaking his head in astonishment. "Chris and Cherie are busy ... writing an iPhone app ... ya' know, cause they can. They are so COOL!"

The application is beautiful for any traveler (full-time, part-time, vacationing). When we made our massive trek for vacation a few years back, and had a child who was just teetering on that "Does she or doesn't she need to be in a booster seat" line, this would have saved us some serious headaches before leaving. The research has been done for you! Outside of measuring and weighing my child, I would have been set!

Does your pet need to be on a leash at your next rest stop?

You haven't seen a speed limit sign for awhile. What are the default speed limits?

We all know Texans love their beer and guns, but what about Nebraska ... or Maine?

Can you sleep at this rest stop since you're still two hours from a major city?

"It’s the stuff that changes right under your nose when you cross lines."

I am in no way being compensated for my excessive pimpage of State Lines ... well, outside of the fact that these two people have become very, very dear friends and I will be receiving payment from THAT for the rest of my life.

Check it. You will be glad you did.

May is National Masturbation Month

Funny, I have yet to find any greeting cards celebrating National Masturbation Month. Although, those would be some dang funny limericks.

Sure enough, though, it is. The merry month of May. This year actually marks it's 15th year of official official-ness.

In all this merriness, there have been some tweets flying about the 2010 Masturbate-a-thon (will not link - you will be google searching that of your own accord and explaining to your boss when it sends off alarms in the IT office). heh. heh.

But since we're on the topic, let's talk masturbation. I guess the better question would be, "ARE YOU talking about it?" particularly if you have kids.

Thought I'd save some time and just pull one of my classics out of the "Welcome to my Brain" vault:

Masturbation Nation

Look at me, all giving you a great way to dive into a new week. Happy Monday!





(photo by Ayhan YILDIZ)

In case of head explosion ...

Some times I have nothing to write about.

Zilch.

Blank page. Blank thoughts.

Well, I have thoughts during those times, but absolutely nothing the rest of you would want to read about.

This week, though, my head is on the verge of exploding. I have 275 million thoughts flooding my mind. I don't know where to start, and sorting them out into several posts just doesn't sound fun. Normally, I would do a massive bullet point breakdown and just link away to everyone else. Not today, though. I'm having too much fun just thinking and pondering all that is everything in my life, in my home, on my phone, in my email inbox. Some of it is over-the-top wonderful. Some of it sucks. Yet, I feel honored to be invited into the everything of others - the complexities of another's existence who just needs to be heard.

Haiti.

RAD.

Marriages.

Religion.

Jobs.

Health.

Self.

I cannot be overwhelmed with the pain, because I'm already too smothered in the beautiful.

Some of our greatest gifts in recent days will be pulling out of our park next week. Chris and Cherie (who, FYI, live at the intersection of Epic and Awesome) had been speaking to me for approximately ten minutes before I was overcome with a huge amount of, "Oh my cow, they get us. They get 'this.' Like, really, seriously GET US." No surprise that I discovered their "Serendipity Challenge" after stalking them online.

When I over plan, over schedule, over ANYTHING, I miss greatness. Today I am enjoying my thoughts, but not allowing them to harm or control me. I am watching the rain. I am paying very close attention to my children and focusing on their wonder. I cleaned off my nightstand and found a few little trinkets which made me smile - reminders of people and events. I am playing my guitar and belting "Video Killed the Radio Star" at the top of my lungs. I am dancing. I am smiling at myself in the mirror.

OH, and of course, doing it all with a phat cup of coffee.



(photo by Billy Alexander, used with permission)

Beauty

The same week my dreadlocks turned six months old, I heard the following from the mouth of my 10-year-old daughter:

"My stomach is chubby. I want to be skinny."

Cuts. right. through. me.

You can create an environment and a home which celebrates diversity and embraces the true beauty in all people, yet the media still finds its way into their thought process. It isn't constant, but sometimes there is a window of vulnerability, and it slips right through and nestles into their delicate hearts. I have found freedom from it, and simply continue to live out my truth for my daughters.

I love myself.

I love every inch of me.



I am beautiful. My body tells a story.

My weathering hands mark my experiences and all those I have touched.
My straining eyes reflect all I have seen.
My sagging breasts tell of the life-giving milk they have shared.
My thinning skin gives a window into the very blood which has sped up through its passages with my changing lifestyle.
My feet very wisely created barriers of protection, representing the many miles I have walked in my own shoes.
My wayward eyebrows remind me of the freedom I have given myself to grow and change in whatever directions I should.
My legs show the falls and scrapes and tumbles ... and the healing.

This is beauty.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Not sure these count, but awhile back, I walked into the living room and [my daughter] had staged a stuffed animal nursing session. I'd like to point out that there is apparently some interspecies adoption going on, as the pink poodle seems to be nursing a parrot and the guinea pig has a penguin or two latched."


Love this pic from one of my favorite online people in the history of ever - Ellen, from The Reign of Ellen. I've been reading her since ... gosh, since my hair was totally red that one time. :)

The Payback

Take some very, very deep and intense work inside the heart of a hurting child.

Mix in one long day of her mother leaving the house to celebrate Mother's Day (thus, taking away all opportunity for child to destroy the day due to trauma triggers and all that is attachment challenges).

Shake overnight.

Wake to a constant state of battle which has escalated to her "running away" up the hill and screaming "I hate you!"

I have been honing in on my skills of staying quiet and walking away. Today was one of those times she just created the argument and the battle without me. Starting throwing things at windows. Breaking things outside. *engage me, engage me, engage me, engage me*

So, I stepped out with my laptop and coffee. Sent her trucking, which is good. Exercise. Break in the tension. Clearing of the stuck mind.

OH ... she's on her way back down! Must find my loving eyes and get back to work. I can see the regulation in her walk. Gonna' see if we can't kick some more RAD a** today!

The bigger the "stuff" the more they are feeling. I'm not surprised by this at all. She has done MAJOR work. MAJOR. It's scary. And right before Mother's Day. Double whammy.

She is actually sitting directly beside me now. She knows I'm safe. Must hit "Publish" now.

Love you guys. In the words of Brenda, "Never, never, never quit."

Mother's Day sneak attack!

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and ... screw that.

Today we told the kids we needed to go into town and run errands. It was almost 2:00 pm. We had not yet eaten lunch. We pulled into one of my favorite local restaurants.

Michael: "Okay, this is our special Mother's Day lunch with Mom!"

BOOM! Outside of some incessant chatter, I had a lovely meal in a quiet and slightly empty restaurant. Plenty of attention from the waiter. Cut out the pre-game ruin-Mother's-Day stuff which would have happened today and in the morning.

Me: "Guys, thank you sooo much. This was great. Happy Mother's Day to me!"

Done, and done.

If your child could verbalize their trauma ...

This week has been one of those scattered intensives. Therapy, therapy, therapy, therapy. One of my hurt kids is feeling vulnerable, yet very open and able to communicate. Certainly doesn't hurt that both of us are on a much more hormonally stable week.

She has gone deep over the past few days. She is having to determine what behaviors are still solely rooted in a fear response, and what just emerges as habit and routine when faced with her own choices. Amazing that she can at least let ME say those words without it being a massive trigger. We are having plenty of broken record conversations, but she is hearing herself state truth over and over and over again. It's part of accepting it. It's part of slowly building those new ruts in her brain so she can then actually believe it.

One of the things I like most about Denise Best's stuff is how she uses the actual words of the kids in her practice in training parents. You can't deny the words of the kids, when they are finally opening up and healing and are brave enough to say some of this stuff.

I wanted to share two things my child has verbalized this week. This was the first time for either of these things to come out of her mouth. All of the books and experts tell me my kids have felt these things, but when you constantly see the complete opposite, you lose sight of it. You swing straight over into the land of "Oh, You Did NOT Just Do That!" I'm the mayor of that land. I BUILT that land.

Okay, so back to what she shared:

#1 - why would a birth mom even have a child if things were so bad that they knew it may go south ... like really south ... really fast?

This was so deep within my daughter, that it crushed me to hear the words and to watch her genuine shame and tears. She rarely talks about her birth family, especially in any sort of intimate way. The trauma has caused her to believe that it is all on her. Perhaps it was even intentional that she was born into a situation which would cause all of this.

One conversation will not dissolve something so entrenched within her. We will continue to readdress it, and CAN now that we know it's still there.

#2 - I need to hurt other people (payback, manipulate, frighten, etc.) because they think they are perfect and don't know what it feels like. A - because I don't want to be alone in my hurt, and B - they need to know what it feels like.

We really tore into the "Why? Why do they also need to feel the pain?" "So they'll KNOW!" She needs to be understood. She doesn't believe anyone can truly understand until they have also been damaged. So, we took a minute and thought of all the people in our lives who also have experienced difficulty and pain.

* her sister in Haiti who is missing a limb and is deaf.
* our friend, Noah, who is currently non-verbal.
* her favorite rock star, Jimmie, who has many challenges with his albinism, including being legally blind.
* the many friends and family who have had catastrophic things occur, at no fault of their own.

"Hmmmm ... well, I guess to be a good friend to them, we should have a leg removed, gouge out our eyes, refuse to ever communicate verbally again, etc., etc."

That helped it click with her. It's not imperative that people experience her pain. It also reminded her that she is not alone in trauma. Many people in her life experience unbelievable challenges, and choose love instead of hurt. It is possible. She can want to do that one day.

She still wants to damage other people (wouldn't it be glorious if one conversation made it all just disappear ... ahh, the Land of Delusion), but recognizing and verbalizing all of this was a big deal.

And as I just told my favorite Corey while decompressing about how the tiny torturous behaviors drive us whonkie ... anytime there is openness in any way, it is followed by regression. They feel ashamed about their behavior. They feel fearful that they allowed themselves to be so vulnerable. They feel powerless and out of control.

So, I buckle down for that. It has already begun. With progress comes, "Oh Dear God, just kill me." Part of the trauma party.


(photo by Julia Starr, used with permission)

The power of the blogger, or ... not?

If you are not a Southern Baptist, you are probably not going to have a flying flip of a clue who I am talking about when I say "Ergun Caner." Yet, there are some who will hop over to my blog today simply because of the mention of his name. I think you all might want to take a minute to understand why I'm writing this post.

You see, there is quite a little storm abrewin' in the world of the Baptists, and it has caused me pause in many areas.

A few points to begin with:

- Ergun Caner is currently the seminary president at Liberty University (that was Falwell's stomping grounds)

- Ergun was a friend and work colleague of mine for a few years. He's friggin funny and snarky - right up my alley.

- Ergun is like every man alive, and married WAY above himself - has seriously one of the nicest wives on the planet.

Okay, so what is the big brew-ha-ha? Well, Ergun has stated some facts about himself in sermons and in print that are ... well, they are not accurate. I was not made aware of any of this until just a few months ago. I have not talked with Ergun personally about any of this. Probably will not. It has become quite the stink, and I'm sure he is dealing with this on a much larger scale. However, I also think it is important that it is being discussed, due to his position at Liberty.

A quick breakdown:

- One very normal lady, Debbie Kaufman, started blogging about what she was seeing and hearing from Ergun Caner that deeply concerned her. It appeared he was misrepresenting himself in ways that might have made him more marketable post-9/11.

- More people began to question the same things. Some have been fair but forthright. Some have been slightly more abrasive. Some need to put the kibash on over using the effects buttons on their movie making software.

Here, though, is the reason I'm even bringing it up. The very first publication of any substantial luster to report this information is "Christianity Today." The title of the piece is "Bloggers Target Seminary President." The entire crux of their article is not to reveal the misleading statements or any amount of true investigative reporting. Instead, it is completely deflecting the issue onto these "bloggers" who are "targeting" someone.

What?



There are actual facts in this story. There is concern. There are plenty of questions to be answered. There are plenty of things to be presented ... bloggers or no bloggers. The bio of a seminary president has been removed from the internet due to inaccuracies, for Pete's sake. What these bloggers have done is simply expose what is already there.

Come on. I have traumatized kids. I know deflecting when I see it. Thus, my greatest concern. Minus crazy video dude, there are some bloggers who simply opened the conversation. While some facts (disturbing facts) were reported in the article, it absolutely had a spin. What saddens me most is how painfully obvious it is that there are some very tight connections between "Christianity Today" and Liberty University.

What I hope people recognize is how the term "bloggers" was being used as such a derogatory term, almost in a way to discredit. Discredit what? These are real people who simply said, "Um, wait a minute. Ergun Caner keeps talking about his childhood in another country, but he was in America by Kindergarten. He has actually said he was born in a country where he was ... um ... NOT born. He leads us to believe he has had many formal debates with people he has never debated. Is it just me? Anyone? Hello?"

There are plenty more avenues of discussion in all of this, but I'll leave it to those other target-happy bloggers. Dr. Elmer Towns, co-founder of Liberty University and dean of the School of Religion, has already stated, "We don't see any way that bloggers will damage Liberty."

He's right. They seem to be doing a fine job of that on their own.



(photo by Svilen Milev, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"This is me and my sweet little Abby Dooberry! She would always fuss when I fed her until I sat her up on my lap to feed, it was too funny! 8 years old and she is still just as fascinatingly peculiar!"

(photo by Jessi)

*my favorite photos are from actual readers - send yours to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com*

Birthing a business

It was nine months ago this week that we loaded up our five kids, two cats and all of our belongings. We were headed south to our new business. Ya' know, the best kind of business ... one that is already losing money.

We had been on the road most of the day. Through some communication snafu's, I ended up driving about nine hours straight alone with all of the kids and two cats (and a very old litter box). This, plus the natural stress of this crazy massive step we were taking ended up in a wee bit of a breakdown outside of a Taco Bell in south Austin.

How sweet is this? They named a store just to commemorate that evening in this shopping center. Ahhhhh.



We had our tacos, I pulled myself together, we did not get divorced in the middle of the parking lot, and onward we went. Arriving just after sunset, it was quickly discovered that not everything we had been discussing and negotiating for weeks was, um, as discussed. That night, all seven of us (and two cats) slept like sardines in a very small RV, lining the floors - but together. We started this together, and by golly, we are rockin' it together.

Last night my husband and I ended our little date day in that very shopping center. We laughed at ourselves. We laughed at that first night ... that first week ... that first month ... that first fall! We did it. This week an influx of work crews begins. I am turning away monthlies so we still have room for overnight guests, and even those are receiving a "sorry, we're full" for the next few weekends. This new wave of rigs is all word-of-mouth. Our first one heard about us during a round of golf in town. The dominoes of reservations fell from there.

We birthed this dern baby. It was painful. We had Braxton Hicks throughout the entire friggin' pregnancy. Worth it, though.

And we can look back and laugh ... finally.

The beautiful agony of foster care

Children are worth this kind of sacrifice.

Children are worth this kind of grief.

Each and every child deserves this kind of selfless love.

Jeannette was Presh's foster mom. Her family was my daughter's family the first seven months of her life. They even facilitated her open adoption with her birth mom until a forever family could be identified. I'll never forget Jeannette saying, "I'm sorry, but she'll have to be rocked to sleep. I rock all my babies to sleep."

Yeah. THAT is the kind of amazing person who parented my child before she came to me.

Some of you have considered becoming a foster parent, but say the very thing we said, "I couldn't give them up. It would hurt too much." We said it. We watched Jim and Jeannette and their children and grandchildren hurt and cry and grieve when Precious left them to join our family. I realized that there is not a magical switch to your emotions that only certain people have. The best foster parents hurt and grieve. They regroup. They heal. Then they go on to love another child who needs them.

It was two years after that when our family began to foster children. We learned from the best!

Now, before I go on, get this in your head: Jim and Jeannette have a little boy in their home right now who is their 197th foster child! They've been at this for more than 25 years. Got it? Let that sink in, and then read the following ...


Jeanette wrote in an email last week:

"It has been about 50 hours since we left Victoria, now Autumn, with her "forever" family. Mom & Dad are wonderful and have already called us to let us know she is doing well. I knew she would, but it sure felt good to hear it.

I thought having her close by and knowing the family from adopting another special need child we fostered would make the separation easier. I've decided it really doesn't matter how wonderful the family is, how much we like them and know that we will see them again. It hurts. I keep asking how many more times our hearts can be broken before we can't patch it. But I guess as long as there are babies who need a temporary home, God will help us to love and let go.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of so very many of the babies that spent so much time with us or have touched us in some special way. And amazingly enough, we have lots of friends who ask us how certain babies that they remembered are doing. Your children have touched more lives than you will ever know. You are always in our hearts and prayers. We thank you so much for giving them such a wonderful life and allowing us to continue to be a small part of it. You have no idea how much that means to us."

(photo by Dallas Morning News)