And the costumes were ...

SPECTACULAR!

The Tacky Texans. Oh my lands, I love these two. R was the Pied Piper tonight, and led eight children from house to house. The jury is still out on whether or not she had more fun than the kids.

Don't they look GREAT?!?



Summer was a gypsy, with added fringe and jingle by the infamous R. Her caravan included a fireman, a princess and King Arthur. The fireman costume made the trip from Oklahoma. The princess was a part of a thrift store find a few days ago. King Arthur's cape is compliments of that thrift store table skirt that also dressed me at BlogHer. Such recycling goodness on this night! We had so much fun getting all of this put together!



On to my posse. The wizard came together via a thrift store sheet, some poster board and a pair of gloves that R snagged at the Lucy in Disguise garage sale.

There is my kid's version of Dementor. He found the cape (a wee bit too small) at the thrift store and combined it with another old ninja costume he had. That's my boy!



The fairy came together beautifully. The skirt is actually a lingerie TOP I found at the thrift store. Just cut off the spaghetti straps, hemmed it over and added elastic. Shirt also from thrift store (Fill-a-Bag for $5, thank you very much!). The wings came from an old coat hanger and some 33 cent knee highs.



Our ballroom dancer in disguise simply wore a dress from her sister's dress-up bin (gifted to the girls by their aunt years ago at Christmas). Topped off with the awesome mask, a gift from the Tacky Texans. Long white gloves which were also snagged at the Lucy in Disguise garage sale, and my white fringy belt I crocheted years ago.

The fortune teller is a combination of said skirt I wore to BlogHer, a scarf gifted to me this past spring by Sara, one of my wraps, every single bead necklace she could possibly find, and a "crystal ball" borrowed from sweet R. Oh yeah, and her headband was one of my mother's old hair scarves. Ya' know ... to keep the beehive under control in the wind.





Last, but certainly not least, was the happy couple. Our costumes were formulated recently by the Tacky Texans and Technomadia (who blessed us with a week of their presence before heading farther east and even soon-to-be the island of St. John). I am Medusa. He looked at me and turned into ... a Rolling Stone.

How stinkin' cute is THAT? R was so kind to come over today and take my makeup to the limit. She also let me borrow her snake earrings. Cause she's cool like that and HAS SNAKE EARRINGS! My ensemble was concocted from a sheet I found at the - you guessed it - thrift store.

Let's also say what you're all thinking: my husband looks EXACTLY like a young Mick Jagger. Right?

Right?




Our community. Our people. A chosen family of thirteen tonight, as we shared a really fun evening together. We are truly, truly blessed.

Tour de Fat 2010

So glad to have the Tacky Texans right here with us to say things like, "PLEEEEEEASE go to Tour de Fat with us - you'll LOVE IT!"

Cause they're always right.

AND, joining us was Summer and her kids. THEN, we discovered that We are Fambly, in all their famblyness, would be there. Oh my soupy soul - some of my favorite people on the planet in the same place at the same time. It just felt so very right.

It was relaxed, but busy. The kids loved it. Just great, great, great. Thank you, Austin. You never fail to leave me smiling (unless I lose my head and actually attempt to drive on I35 downtown - otherwise, you're spectacular).

Costume teaser

The sewing machine is whirling. The duct tape is ripping. The stapler is stapling. The aluminum foil is wrapping. The excitement is building.

We heart costuming.

Hallo-weeee will get through this

Last year I stayed home on Halloween with a few of my children. We had not been in our new house very long and there was much, much, much acting out. It was the perfect evening to sabotage. So we had a quiet evening at home. Did some things together, but it was low key and not the sensory overload that is Gonzales Texas' rockin' Halloween festivities.

This year is different. My goodness, it is a little crazy to look back on all of the healing that has happened in the past 365 days. Moving, of course, took everyone a step backward. But wow - we have certainly caught up and blown the doors off all things attachment. It has been hard, hard work with a dash of niacin.

So, one of my kids is starting to feel the urge to sabotage. Their "hurt part" says, "You didn't get to go to the crazy BIG stuff last year because you're bad. So, blow it again this year!" Now, the most humorous part of this is how this child is dipping their toe into the retro sabotage. It's little things. Comical. So, it makes it pretty easy to redirect. Today I was actually able to say, "Really? We're gonna' do this?" lift my eyebrows and receive a smile and immediate fix.

It's just Wednesday. I'm sure things will increase, but I have no doubt I can help my kid through this one. The simple fact that Halloween, in general, is not a trigger for any of my kids anymore, is astronomical.

Remember, the healing doesn't mean that the behaviors just vanish. I used to assume that. I used to hear Nancy Thomas speak of a "last hurrah!" that some kids would have before attaching. So, of course, in my head that meant a few weeks of CRAZY and then attachment and lasting change (meaning: better behavior - right away!). I know, I know. I was pretty much smokin' dope, but we've all done it.

Happy Halloween - whatever that means for your family!

(photo by Shelley Keith, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by We Are Fambly - check out their flickr stream - the cuteness will cause you to spontaneously lactate!)


If you would like to submit your own Magical Milk Pic, send it to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

Same time next year

If you find a sisterhood, you should hold onto it. Invite them to sleep on your floor, if necessary. If they love you, they will come.

(note: do NOT, however, under ANY circumstances, tell them that your son found a scorpion in his room the night before they arrived - wait until after they are gone to let that cat out of the bag)

As any good hill country Texan worth their weight, I made sure our very first stop was at Hey Cupcake. Straight. from. the. airport.



Toy Joy has an actual "fake it til you make it" mask. Who knew? Trauma parents everywhere, gotta' get you one of those!



Ms. Fakey Smile above brought her dad along for the road trip. He was a jewel to tolerate being around us off and on. That is a lot of estrogen for one man to stomach. He is a hoot who adores his daughter. I could have watched him watch her all weekend ... when I wasn't mocking him relentlessly. He can take it as well as he can dish it.



Oh yeah. And he deals poker. I have never played poker. He did not get frustrated with me. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not one tiny bit. *cough*







The Tacky Texans popped down to adore everyone with some henna. They were spreading the tacky love.





Kellie had her very first green smoothie. She ended the evening by baking a crazy rich concoction which includes turning a pie upside down in a cake pan, pouring cake batter all over it, and baking the whole friggin' thing! She had a bit happier face with the pie/cake thing, than with the green smoothie.



I did a lot of this.



Not a TON of this ... but a little.

I have a secret

This year's Orlando retreat has exploded to upwards of 50 women (and counting).

WOW.

I can't truly explain to you how last year congealed the nine of us into life-long friends. Yet, I do think the words we HAVE been able to say are the reason it has grown exponentially this year. We go to one another for much more than therapeutic parenting. We share heartaches and joys and lift each other constantly. Die hard friends.

Seeing how this year will put us into a position to connect with even more amazing women, we decided to do a stealth, halfway through the year meet-up. Six of the original Orlando Nine will meet here at Hill Shade RV Park and crash on the floor of my double wide. We will reconnect so we feel the freedom to melt into the rest of you in March.

I am leaving THIS SECOND to head to Austin and start collecting them from the airport.

Will keep you updated, if I'm not just throwing them into a pile and rolling around in their goodness.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Rachel Valley)

Won't you meet my neighbor?

So, as things often do ... change happened and Summer and her three wonderful children were able to come stay at our park for now. We are able to provide her with some emotional support while she navigates this whole "stepping out on her own" thing.

Courage is not the lack of fear. It's moving forward even when you're terrified.

Summer is friggin' courageous.

Her children are a direct reflection of her heart and her pace and her passion and her commitment. We are truly blessed to be sharing life with them right now.

Christine's Commune has grown just a wee bit more. ;)

The value of education?

Many thanks to T for sharing this.

Much, much on which to chew. And then the question of "What do we do?" (besides, of course, sounding like Dr. Seuss).

King Ranch (vegan gf) Casserole

Ladies and gentlemen, I have hit the JACKPOT! I found a gluten free version of King Ranch Casserole then used my noggin to make it bigger and vegan.

You can thank me later. This made a HUGE 15x10 casserole dish and it was to the brim. All seven of us had seconds with some leftovers to spare. So, you could adjust accordingly.

Save Your Heart and Intestines King Ranch Casserole

1/2 c Smart Balance
3 small onions, diced
2 green bell peppers, diced
6 cups veggie broth
3/4 c gluten free baking flour
1 large (28 oz) can Rotel
3 cans garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
2 bags of your favorite shredded vegan, gf "cheese"
24 corn tortillas

In a large skillet, saute the onions and bell peppers in the Smart Balance spread, til softening. Add the broth and heat to a low boil. Scoop out some of the the liquid into a separate bowl and whisk the flour into it until smooth. Add that mixture back into the skillet. Stir until thickened. Add the Rotel and beans. Heat til warm (this is when you will realize the importance of using a BIG skillet).

In an 11x13 casserole dish layer the following sequence three times: 8 corn tortillas, 1/3 sauce from skillet, 1/3 veggie shreds. Again - this filled my dish to the brim. Be careful. But be happy.

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes.

Love me forever.

A watched broth never boils

It never dawned on me to make my own veggie broth. Then, with my husband going gluten free, it's just a lot easier to make everything. I already make a lot from scratch, but DANG they pass out gluten like they do high fructose corn syrup. My love and admiration to GF people. I'm sorry if I have ever, EVER been flippant at all about the difficulty you face in just going out with friends.

While meeting and absorbing all that is Owlhaven, she suggested I just make my own. She had that shrug in her shoulders that I get when I say, "Just make your own taco seasoning," or "Just make your own laundry detergent." No big deal. Just give it a try. So I did.

Holy bits and stems, it's the easiest thing ever ... EVER. I found a fun, inspiriting recipe as well as my new favorite food blog, Vegan Yum Yum.

Even if you're not vegan or vegetarian, this is still ideal.

*shrug* "Just make your own!"

Okay, I finally understand this running thing

I can run a 5K now.

Until this point, I never truly understood why people would WANT to run. Sprinting, I get. You sprint into the house to get out of the rain. You sprint across the parking lot to grab your toddler. You sprint to the bathroom and back so you don't miss too much of the movie.

THAT makes sense. But running? Just running ... do-bee-do-bee-do ... for like a half hour or more? Made. no. sense. to. me.

Until now.

I have been juggling a lot this past week and helping out others more than usual. People I adore are struggling and I have a serious problem right now with having some super amazing people in my life. It's a major issue. I can't not love them and care about them. Geeeeez. They should cut that crap out. Stop all of their amazing-ness so I can stop giving a flying flip.

So, our house is rockin' along as usual, I'm juggling park and homeschool stuff as usual, and then we threw in some emotional support for fantabulous friends. I started to wear down. I was feeling helpless and as though I couldn't do enough. Those who know me best and well kept reminding me to take care of myself. I was doing tiny things, but Sunday morning I woke up and just wanted to scream. SCREAM.

Instead, I ran.

Just ran.

Very Forest Gump like. I started my app to keep track of it, but then tucked it away not to look at it until I had returned home. It had been TEN DAYS since my last work out. I was terrified that I would have to ask a neighbor to drive me home, after collapsing next to their barn. My legs burned with the slightest rise in the road. My lungs occasionally weazed. I have this really embarassing gasp/moan thing I do at least once during a run, but this time it was ... well, let's just say it was more than once!

And oh my sweat pits, it was so GREAT. I was able to just think. I was able to get out stress and aggression. I was able to cry - hard. I was able to chuckle. I was able to jam to some Janis Joplin.

I felt wiped out ... and a million times better.

I get it now. Fine. You're not all a bunch of sadistic freaks. It's awfully powerful and it's not all about the endorphins post-run, but the physical aspect DURING the run.

I get it.

I crave it.

I love it while hating it.


(photo is me, immediately after completing my very first 5K - and yes, my lens is fogged up - I sweat like a dude)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"This is a picture of me nursing my 15 month old son just minutes after I was married. (If he'd had it his way he would have nursed through the entire ceremony!)"

(photo by Lynden, a reader)



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

National Coming Out For Equality Day

Did you know?

You can still be fired from your job in most states, simply for being LGBT, and have no legal recourse — because currently, no federal non-discrimination law protects LGBT Americans.

This is unacceptable to me.

More than 86 percent of LGBT students report being verbally harassed — name-calling, threats, etc. — at school.

This is unacceptable to me.

Most people do not realize that the "Defense of Marriage Act" actually denies LGBT Americans more than 1,100 benefits and protections. That includes their entire household. Children.

This is unacceptable to me.

Many, many people do not take the time to know or truly understand what it is like to be LGBT in in this country, and to work and raise a family. Regardless of their religious beliefs, they are uninformed on the details and implications ... the horrific lack of service and compassion and love.

This is unacceptable to me.

For more information, go to the Human Rights Campaign web site, or find your favorite gay, lesbian, transgender or bisexual friend ... and just ask them.

Then listen.

Have I mentioned my friend, Summer?

I know you have NEVER heard about Summer, ever on this blog because I link to her incessantly. She and I met just a few years ago in our tiny Oklahoma town after I discovered her online. We both were trying to be more green. We both homeschooled. We both were very, VERY relaxed people who didn't pick up when the other was coming over. We could happily coexist without any fanfare.

The perfect friend.

If you read Summer, you know things have been dark lately. Very dark. So dark that last Sunday I was pretty sure I had lost her forever. There are situations out there that most of us could never understand. We have a place to fall. Even if our extended family does not seem ideal ... no matter what, we would have a place to fall.

She feels like an orphan. Because she is. She has no family she can fall to. None.

So, when her love of eight years said that he was leaving her, and she has three young children ... she found herself staring into an endless hole. She has stayed at home to be the fulltime caregiver to those kids. She has him. Yes, he has family. He has a place to fall. He has support. And it's all in driving distance.

Summer has me. She has my family. She has another friend or two, and we're all out of state. She needs to stay in her state to be near her children. Yet, she currently sits in a house with no place to go, no car and no substantial form of income (we all know how small bloggers are rolling in the dough *cough*).

Last night I started to tell her of the people I had already heard from. People who care about her. People who don't know her but want to help her. It changed her. She was still in a pit. She is STILL struggling painfully. But she also didn't really understand, believe or know the truth: people care. They care about her: Summer.

She also comes from a history of trauma. Hers has not been the life of Girl Scouts and mom baking cookies for her class party and a Sweet Sixteen party. She is a survivor. She also has a shame cycle. She is stuck in deep, bone penetrating shame. Yet, read her post again. She knows it. She can say it. She can own it. It is powerful, but she is already strong enough to recognize it.

She can, and will, do something about it.

She has asked for help. She has taken help. She has absorbed it. But, as I recently said, we all need a support system. A fat, widespread support system. She is a mother who broke so much of the cycle she learned in childhood. She is the epitome of an attachment parent. She taught herself to be the kind of mom her kids need most. And now she sits ... in a house she can not afford to rent ... with nothing. Even her computer, her only source of small income, is not her own.

Nothing.

I have already started to connect her with a few people, but she is starting from scratch. She needs a jump start. I would love to move her here with me. I own a whole RV park, for Pete's sake. But she has children, and she must be where her children are. If you have any resources or connections in Oklahoma, she needs you. If you can spare $5, she needs you.

I know Summer. I have shared life with her. She is beyond frugal. She taught herself to can this year to not only feed her family more healthily but to stretch every last dollar they have. She is simple and requires very little to provide for her family. She's the real deal.

I'm going to do all I can from here. It's not enough. I need some of you who are closer to squeeze into her circle.

You can email Summer at [summerm] @ [findingsummer] .com

You can gift funds to Summer through PayPal, using the email address [sdminor81] @ [yahoo] .com

You can encourage her on Twitter @summerminor

You can love all over her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Summer.d.Minor

Money, words, an apartment, a car, a job, a computer, a moving van ... whatever you have to give ... give.

Overwhelmed - good and bad

There are so many families out there who are struggling.

I just cleansed my email inbox and realized I have missed DOZENS of cries for help along the way from parents of trauma. I know this is voluntary, but I also know what it's like to be on the other side of that request.

Crap.

CRAP!

Thankfully, most people are as determined as I am, and find me on Twitter or Facebook and shoot me a message there or post on my wall or virtually jump up and down screaming to catch my attention. I like that. DO THAT!

It has been weird for me lately. Things with the kids are in a positive place (I will not say "good" or "great" out loud - I know better than to jinx it!). However, I have others in my life for whom my heart is breaking. Everyone's life carries on and some of those lives are complicated and aching.

The kind of aching that leaves you smack on your face in the middle of the floor as you hurt for your friend. Primal groans. Offering everything while simultaneously feeling completely and utterly helpless.

Then, while I have friends reaching out to me, I spend just as much time emotionally vomiting over the amazing clump of people I have to reach out to. It is this beautiful effect. Depending on the season and the situation, others carry me so that I can carry yet others. It's a trickle down of love.

I am a woman who has never had a sole best friend. Ever. All of my closest friends have always had a "best friend" ... someone else with a longer history. So, while I had my best friend in 10th grade, and my best friend my sophomore year in college and my best friend on that one 2-hour band trip ... they always had that other "bestest best friend."



I have grown to love this. I have learned to watch for the love that is constantly being handed to me and accept it all on each level and let it fill my life in the way I need it most. Everyone in my life has a very, very special place. And some of you, you poor old souls, have found your value in the last few days (really hoping you have unlimited texts!). It all started with that darn conference and emotional upheaval continued from there.

WHY am I blubbering on and on? First, as a very public way of thanking those who have carried me this week. Some through offering prayers and positive thoughts. Some through tender words. Some through laughter. Some through trash and crass. CARRIED ME. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Don't stop. Don't stop. DON'T STOP!

Second, I'm blubbering because I want you all to see the value of a support system and build it around you. Build it deep and build it wide. Wait for some of it to come to you, but pay attention when it shows up. It may be spread out over states and continents. It may function on cell phones and chat rooms and Skype. Yet, it's gold.

(photo by Flavio Takemoto, used with permission)

It's so much more than hair

Nine hours of touch.

Nine hours of commitment.

Nine hours together.



It's so much more than hair.

It's so much more than braids.



It's a process that facilitates connection.

It reflects the truth.

The beauty.

The healing.

The hope.



Yeah. That shirt says, "I know I'm not perfect, but I'm so close it scares me."

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Amy and her husband were in Rwanda last month, for a two week substitute teaching job at the international school that her husband is helping to open. "Your magical milk pictures are such an inspiration! My daughter is two months old. This picture is her nursing during a class. I love it and the school wants to hire us full time!"

(photo provided by Amy)



submit your own Magical Milk Pic to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

It's like my eyes are incontinent

I spent Friday and Saturday at the Together for Adoption Conference.

It was a million things.

My brain and Owlhaven finally met. In fact, I roomed with her Friday night. In fact, I got a signed copy of her fantabulous book (nyah! nyah!). She has also agreed to become an expert on all things "teenagers" and then teach me everything she knows. Okay, maybe I TOLD her that is what she was going to do, but she didn't argue. She was laughing hysterically ... hmmmmm.

Which one of you losers was the chic that said, "You told me to tell you hi," and then kept walking as if I DIDN'T want to talk to you or didn't have time? Hoser. Out yourself, I say. I wanted to find out who the heck you were! I wanted to tell you my kids were in the lobby and to go meet them. I wanted to know if you had kids and why you read my story, and, and, and, and ... I now want to egg your house for not letting me. Come oooooooon. Who are you? I can't even remember your name. Too busy saying, "Seriously ... come back!!" It was like the end of a tragic love story that never happened.

I was able to see my Facebook friend Annee in real life. She's great. Annee, you are GREAT! Thank you for finding me. And Amy Block was kind enough to laugh at me when I said something to Annee akin to, "I'm so used to your tiny Facebook icon, it's so great to see you bigger"

Check out Amy's recap on her blog. Find the pic of Jenn. Yeah, her! Jenn, I never wrote down your blog address. Post it in the comments so we can all harass you for not posting enough. I loved how we kept bumping into one another. I loved how you whispered into my ear when we were both thinking the same thing. I am so very glad you let me be your friend.

All the other gals in Amy's post? Amazing. Truly fun and amazing. Sat up in a room with many of them very late talking about behaviors and intestines and whack-job hair cuts. It was so very good to laugh, because the rest of the time I was a blubbery mess.

There were these fun, new budding friendships with so much connection. Simultaneously, there were those people with whom you already share some sort of history. It was rich and those good-byes sucked because there's no guarantee when I'll see them again.

It was also 48 hours of constant reminders of adoption in our home, in our family and particularly all that has been the last two and a half years of our lives.

I didn't expect it. It kicked my tail. Ours is a story of pain and loss and confusion and healing and hope. I felt every single bit of it. I didn't want to leave, but I had a constant need to be by myself and wail. I think that was important for me. I'm too strong sometimes. So strong that I delay the expression of my own emotions.

That conference was a purging. If you met me for the first time, no, my eyes are not normally swollen shut. However, in the end, I returned home to hope and healing and future. We are doing it together. My kids are rock stars. I'm just now really starting to understand what I have been asking of them, to move forward. I'm not happy that it took me this long to honor the depth of it, and can't believe I ever dared to be impatient with them. They have have climbed mountains ... in the snow ... without feet.

Really glad I went.


(photo by Ivan Prole, used with permission)