Bring it, friggin' new year!

We can definitely say that 2010 kicked the boo-tay of 2009. We had nowhere to go but up. Healing was on the horizon, but it had to get worse before it got better.

So here is my Top-Something Countdown of 2010:

* January brought the earthquake in Haiti, along with some serious learning and changes for me as a parent of trauma (Shame, shame on you)

* February brought life and death. We discovered that our kids' first family in Haiti were all alive and safe. And then we lost a dear, dear friend.

* March was a month of life-long gifts for me. I met these ladies for the very first time, and they are now a constant stream of support in my life. I also met this gal, who is currently my neighbor and insanely dear friend. When you meet another person who is parenting trauma, you connect immediately. There is just nothing like it. Then, when you find those rare gems that connect with you on a million other levels ... well, you have these women who bring tears to my eyes just seeing a picture of their face. Love them, love them, love them, love them, L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.

* In April we celebrated two years with our kids from the hard places (Would you do it all over again?) - they are our heroes

* In May I issued a week-long Attachment Challenge, and actually heard 4,293 women curse my name at the exact same time! Really. Pretty sure it was on the news. Simultaneously, we were watching our business begin to explode ... in a good way ... with actual business. The oil work in the area began to flood us, and will now continue to do so for the next several years. And we had reason to celebrate.

* In June I turned 38 and also took a risk. I attended my 20th class reunion. So many old friends see each other and keep in touch. I no longer have family in town and had not been back in many years. So, I wasn't sure if I'd be a fifth wheel. It was so worth it. I have rekindled old friendships and built friendships from old acquaintances. Not to mention, it was dang fun.

* It was a year of amazing friendships! In July I met the Fambly in realsie life. We hit the ground running and have never looked back. A trip to Austin without seeing them is a, "What was the point?" I may have also blogged about niacin ... and quite possibly my arm pits.

* In August my parents shared about their weight loss. There was also this little conference I went to which gave me my first taste of NYC and introduced me to some of the most lovely people on the planet.

* In September my heart exploded as I celebrated 15 years of marriage with my husband and witnessed amazing love from friends. Not to mention, when you tell the entire interweb that your husband is hot in bed, you can pretty much use that to get whatever you want for months on end. I highly suggest it.

* In October I ran a 5K and walked with my friend who was fighting for her ... everything.

* In November my dreads had their first birthday. I also admitted some of my really embarrassing realities of my former phobia.

* In December, I declared a new war on Christmas.

I'm entering 2011 with happiness and hope and some new color in my hair. You can't control your circumstances. You can't control others. However, you have a lot of choice and a lot of strength. Grab it by the horns, friends, and make it a good one.

Detoxing from the holidays

Don't think what you put in your mouth affects anything but your waistline?

I have often wondered about the correlation between what everyone is eating and the increase in anxiety, bickering, depression and other issues throughout every holiday season. I'm no expert, but I have watched the vast difference in myself and my family when we make choices that are better for our bodies.

We splurge. Don't get me wrong. WE SPLURGE! Christmas Eve was not without tamales and Velveeta dip and Grandma's cider and punch and desserts and more desserts and MORE DESSERTS. It was fun, and we will do it again the next time.

But it was for a day. Then we returned to some more healthy and positive habits. Even in keeping the splurging under control, there are residual effects with our moods and sleep and basic lethargic existences. I am particularly amazed at how my kids are affected by their dietary intake.

It's that time of year when everyone is thinking about change and resolutions and new beginnings. I think diet is the very hardest change in life. You can't not think about it. You can't avoid it. Our way of life makes it extremely difficult physically and socially. The positive effects tend to be more gradual - no immediate gratification. I still see more improvements after years of slowly moving in the right direction. Yet, I'll keep cheering for it and encouraging each of you to move away from the norm. Here are a few things to get you motivated:

"Scientific research shows that health benefits increase as the amount of food from animal sources in the diet decreases, so vegan diets are the healthiest overall." From Vegetarian Foods: Powerful for Health.

Check out the Power Plate from the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine.

"Pediatrician Lendon H. Smith, M.D., nationally famous as "The Children's Doctor," was very plain in stating that sugar causes profound mood disorders." From Doctor Yourself.

I highly recommend the documentary "Food Matters." Highly. Like ... HIGHLY. You can watch it online (my affiliate link is over to the right). Or stick it in your Netflix queue. Here is the trailer:



And this trailer makes me super excited about the fact that "Forks Over Knives" will be out in MARCH! Whoop! (there is a January screening in Austin - I am keeping my eyes peeled for more info)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by We Are Fambly, my favorite lefthanded lesbian with a non-wedded wife ... her kids are dang cute, too)





**you can submit your magical milk pics to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

From our home to yours ...

Keep it simple.

Keep it real.

Fight for fun.

Love you freak heads!




(photo by Elizabeth Knox Photography)

My holiday blessing for trauma momma's

I truly hope that you all have a wonderful week (and "wonderful" is relative), and that you can still find laughter and joy in your "new normal," despite the behaviors and stress.




May your legs remember to walk away before your mouth loses its loving voice.

May there be special stolen moments with your neuro-typical children, even if it is when the rest of house is in bed.

May your eyes be magically fixed from rolling as a parade of family and friends question every single choice and interaction you have with your child.

May your mind be filled with the people in your life who DO get it and DO support you, because they are the gifts that keep on giving all year long.

May there be one tiny, but unbelievable hair of a moment, when you find the strength to step outside of the behavior and see your child for who they were born to be, and who they need you to be.

May you find peace, albeit fleeting.

May you find hope.

May you find healing within yourself, again and again, so you can then teach your child how to find their own.

And may the eggnog be spiked.






(photo by nellart, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Rachel Valley)

Fight for fun!

Everyone is talking about the stress.

Happy Friggin' Holidays.

I spent years feeling like I was fighting against the stress. The expectations. The expected gift giving. The hours of baking. My life felt like a battle started the second week of December, and it was full on war until December 27th (about the time most of the dust settled).

I have a different approach now. I don't fight AGAINST the stress. I fight FOR the fun.

Because it's worth it.

My mindset has me visualizing my family running toward the happy and the cheerful and the festivities. Not running away from something miserable that is trying to engage us - nipping at our heels.

If something holiday-esque gets between us and actual fun and joy, then we have a few choices.

1) We can bypass it - keep it behind us and not make it a part of what we do.

2) We can make the necessary sacrifices to participate, but only because there is plenty of fun and joy to be found within the effort.

3) We can get more involved and help give the whole darn thing a face lift so that it oozes joy and fun. Maybe everyone else is equally miserable in this event or "tradition," and no one feels strong and safe enough to step forward and encourage change.

It doesn't always work out so smoothly. Sometimes we have to choose #1 way more than #3. Sometimes we go with #2 because the joy and fun comes from knowing our participation BRINGS joy and fun to someone else. It's all a balance.

But your mindset. Your mindset makes all the difference.

Fight for fun.

Run toward the happy.

Choose joy!


(photo by Gözde Otman, used with permission)

It all started with Summer

I had a very surreal moment last night.

A house full of friends. 18 people, to be exact.

Gathering for dinner.

We began talking about how we knew one another. I KNEW how it all started, and it has just been really fun for me to watch all of these people come together.

You see, it was September 30, 2009.

Summer was reading Walk Slowly Live Wildly, and saw that they mentioned they may head through Texas the following spring. She left a comment telling them all about us - linking to the park and my blog.

Which led to us meeting the Janssen's.

Which led to us meeting Slow Pony Home and the slew of people that are the NuRVers. My friend, A, at Slow Pony Home is also parenting trauma and has become a constant source of encouragement and laughter and tears and thought-provoking discussions as we both navigate this stuff (or whine together when we just want it to all stop and go away). Not to mention, our husbands have a total bromance and our kids could spend every waking moment together.

The NuRVers led us to meet the Tacky Texans who are now an intimate part of our lives and our park.

You have followed all that Summer has battled this fall. And now SHE is an intimate part of our community.

So, last night I sat in a room as we broke down how the whole domino effect had played out over the last year or so. I had Summer and one of the Tacky's and the whole pile of the Slow Pony Home family all in one place. A's face lit up as she exclaimed, "SHE is 'the friend'!" I had talked about there being this friend out there who started the ball rolling into all this goodness. But it wasn't until we had finished scarfing down taco's that she realized she had met "the friend."

I have no words for all that I felt sitting there surrounded by that whole story. But I have yet to stop smiling.

Pee is universal

If you are parenting a child of trauma and you have younger kids in your home, you know the mess this can create.

You can walk in one day to discover your 5-year-old attached child getting upset about something. Instead of showing some sass or having a typical 5-yr-old throw down, you discover this child mimicking a trauma rage.

Cause they've learned from the best.

Of course, in this house, you can only imagine what an easy set-up it was for the youngest to figure out how to speak in pee instead of, oh just refusing to pick up, etc.

Of course, this is not trauma related, so it's not a daily thing. But alas. It is pee. It is not in an appropriate receptacle.

I loathe the pee (holy CRAP, do I look like warmed over death in that video - it triggers ME just looking at it!).

I have to work harder on a poker face with the pee than with any other whonky behavior we have yet to experience, and that is saying a LOT.

Yesterday I was singing the urine blues. Today that child has decided there may be more effective ways to get what they want and have their voice heard.

I'm going to the health food store later to find a homeopathic "make them forget everything they have ever seen or heard from an older sibling" pill. Really hoping they're not too pricey.


(very appropriate photo by Michal Zacharzewski, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"I know it's not the greatest pic, cuz it was taken on my phone, but my 9 month old, Micah, just started nursing this way - sitting up on my lap facing me, looking up at me."

(photo by Ruth Chowdhury, a reader)

If my child was strong enough to say it

I know many of you find this song to be reflective of your faith.

It has changed for me in recent years. Every time I hear it now, I hear my child singing it. It really smacked me in the face one day ... people cry out to their God, their Savior, their Higher Power (whatever that may be) and write songs about how - no matter what we do or how many times we do it - forgiveness and acceptance and love is always available to us.

And we are supposed to reflect that to those in our lives.

Um, yeah. Frick. It has changed for me. And below the video I will write how I hear it lyrically, now (apologies to Josh Bates).





Time after time, you've been left behind
Like the sun when it's starting to rain
Time after time, you've been forgotten
Like a picture that's faded with age
Time after time, you ran after me
When I was still running away

Please never give up on me. Oh, never give up on me
When I'm weak, please be strong. Tell me I still belong
Never ... never give up on me

Time after time, I've used your grace
To fight off the fear I perceive
I'm too scared to thank you for all that you've done
Showing me what I can be
Please keep holding out your hands
As long as it takes for me

Please never give up on me. Oh, never give up on me
When I'm weak, please be strong. Tell me I still belong
Never ... never give up on me

I need you to erase all my mistakes
And lift me up when I am down
I pray, through my stages, your love never changes
Keep welcoming me just as I am

Please never give up on me. Oh, never give up on me
When I'm weak, please be strong. Tell me I still belong
Never ... never give up on me.

Does it really matter that those socks don't match?

I'm sitting here staring at my youngest. Two completely mismatched socks. It's not a rarity. It's what she does. Today is just gray vs. white. Typically it's a little more over the top (below the ankle white matched with above the knee stripes).

It is driving me crazy, but I have to stop and keep it where it belongs - my problem. Because honestly, WHO CARES? She certainly doesn't. In fact, she probably thinks it's kinda' fun and quirky. Not like anyone ever looks at any part of me that way. Nope. That never happens. For some reason, on some days, it screws with my head. I have yet to figure out the pattern with it, but today - fingernails on a chalkboard.

So, um, yeah. I have no room to talk. I'm the one with the random wrist cuff tattoo with no distinguishable pattern that isn't really thorns and is kinda' tribal but almost not and has no special story or meaning behind it.

I just like it.

And that's the thing with her socks. She just likes it that way. It makes her happy.

I say all of that to say this: sometimes we project our own desires onto others without even stopping to think. Sometimes those desires are fleeting in our own head and could change again within 24 hours. Either way, it's normal to immediately feel that our way is the best way and should be the only way.

I can admit that. You can't help how you feel, and I have those feelings often. It's reactionary. But these dern little socks today are reminding me of the bigger picture. Even if my way is more freeing, more efficient or truly is more practical, your way may bring you more joy for a million different reasons. So, there is no issue, and I need to deal with my own crap in how I view you.

FYI: as I was typing this I realized I need to send out a big apology to all of you who still google search my blog instead of bookmarking me! ;)

I'm fond of the lurkers

While hundreds of you read my drivel every day, only a few of you comment. Yet, behind the curtain is a slew of lurkers.

I love me some lurkers.

Lurkers, many times, aren't regular bloggers. They tend to be the people who Facebook friend you, or shoot you a private email now and then.

They are SPECTACULAR.

I mean, don't get me wrong. Those of you who yap as much as I do in the comments are utterly amazing. But the lurkers ... they are their own breed of hysterical.

FRIGGIN' hysterical.

They are the quiet ones off in the corner, but when they finally say something it is so brilliant and so sharp that you spew your wine across the room.

And I know I have still only heard from a teensie fraction of you. Hope that the rest of you slowly work your way into my comments or wall, but take your time. Don't force it.

Perhaps I'll change my Facebook info: "Interested in Lurkers."

I will not make up a special day and ask you to out yourself and comment. NO! That's just not natural. You were meant to be spontaneous and a dark horse. And when you come riding up into the light, you cause me to almost pee myself. Remain in your shadows, friends. You are a gift.

Oh, and FYI - for the at least DOZEN of you who still find me every single day by google searching "welcome to my brain" or "christine moers blog" or "reactive attachment disorder rv blog," ... I don't know why it drives me insane. It's your time, but COME ON! You've got to learn how to bookmark ... or use Google Reader ... SOMETHING! Your lack of shortcut utilization makes me serious buh-nonkers!


(photo by Marek Wojtal, used with permission)

Oh my lordy be

I still have a very not-doing-great child.

A million times better than two years ago, but have I mentioned how those good days (and even weeks - WOW) really spoil you and then the bad days smack you between the eyes?

I'm on my game, though. I'm a therapeutic super star. Mostly.

We are keeping it silly. Talking about all the super crazy stuff that my kid COULD do - "Hey, you seem to feel pretty stressed and funky again today. I thought later you might want to run away, set the house on fire and perhaps dance on my head. Wadda' ya' say? Around 4:00?" I get a smile and a rolling of the eyes.

REMINDER: therapeutic parenting does not stop the behavior. It creates an environment of perceived safety over and over and over again while healing very slowly takes place (emphasis on veeeeeerrrrrryyyyyyyy slllllooooooowwwwwllllyyyy).

Yesterday morning I asked my lovely to take a break in their room after being pretty ugly to their siblings. We were having smoothies for breakfast, so I was all, "You can just take your smoothie with you - read a book - rest ..." (I got the robot look - you trauma Momma's know the look - the I-will-not-fall-for-the-therapeutic-intervention look) "... OR you could smash your glass against something and smear your very dark purple smoothie all over the wall, maybe break something on your bed, draw a picture of me and poop on it?"

Yeah, I TOTALLY got a smile and then they fought it back HARD. It was gonna' be one of those days. But still, always worth sneaking in a poop, fart or booger remark. Typically throws them off enough.

Well, the one thing I did not mention or suggest was to pour the very dark purple smoothie over some of their siblings' Webkinz that were still in their room from the day before. No biggie. Everyone kept a poker face (cause I prep everyone in these situations, "It is just a stuffed animal. They'll wash them to make it right. If they are stained, they'll buy you a new one. Poker face, kids - POKER FACE!"). My kids are all rock stars and really do let me teach them how to be therapeutic siblings. No reactions from any of them.

And when that child was ready (I did not push - just said, "When you're ready"), they ran the purple plushies through the washer and dryer. All came out looking fantabulous. Restitution was made and Mom resisted the urge to keep score and lecture and yell.

I wanted to yell, yo. But I did not. Fist bumps all around. OH DEAR GOD, DID I WANT TO YEEEELLLL! Instead, I started to do math problems in my head. And I crocheted. Cause it works. Don't knock it, if it works! We have to switch up our brains and energy just like they do. Oh, and you're all getting booties for Christsexmas.

So, I did not yell and the rest of the day was really pretty okay. Minor corrections and redirections here and there. Nothing more than the average child being a butt head to their siblings.

One day at a time.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Daria Chernova, used with permission)

You may submit your own Magical Milk Pic by emailing it to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

Tis the season to stop having sex

There is a War on Christmas, friends, but it's not what the media would have you believe.

It begins with the post-Thanksgiving bloat. Pretty soon it is completely out of control.

Holiday parties. Shopping. More holiday parties. Then another party. More baking for for yet another party. A forgotten gift for a Secret Santa exchange. Decorating. Musical rehearsals. Attending musicals. Wrapping gifts. THEN ANOTHER STUPID PARTY!

Before you know it, the things which once went bump in the night, no longer ... um ... bump.

And I am declaring to the world that I think that is just plain messed up! Sure, it's bad that the holidays are over-commercialized. You betcha', I think it's pitiful that families fight more during this time due to stress. But when you start messing with sex ... you have gone. too. far.

So stop.

Just STOP IT!

I double dog dare you to skip a party (or two ... or twelve). Eat no more than one holiday treat each day, so you feel light and airy and ... bump-worthy. Buy some cookies instead of baking them. When your co-worker waltzes in with her perfectly decorated sugar cookies, spelling out the name of everyone in the office with sprinkles, apologize in the best way you know how:

"I'm sorry my cookies are so lame. I was going to make my grandmother's divinity last night, but I was too busy banging my husband."

Because, when January rolls around, no one will remember how many presents were under the tree, or how drunk Aunt Martha got on the rum balls, or who wrote the best fake Christmas letter making their children sound like biochemists. But Santa is sure gonna' remember every second Mrs. Claus went down the chimney.

Let's do it. Let's put the "sex" back in Christsexmas!

WHO'S WITH ME?




(photo by jwtwel, used with permission and possibly much to his chagrin)

That quote would make an awesome t-shirt

Just a few things that caught my eye recently. Mostly religious, because ... well, if you weren't aware *insert dark, scary music here* ... the war on Christmas has already begun. dun-dun-DUUUUUUUN! So, it seems to be in the air.

*Sorry - to be more factual, the American Family Association declared said war had been launched sometime in October. Something about gay employees of the Home Depot not being allowed to wear really tacky Christmas sweaters. Or Chase Bank holiday widow clings having a backwards-masked message in the sunlight that reads, "Jews rock!", or something like that.*

Okay, so on with the show. This is some really great stuff:


"Is a physical symbol of our religious beliefs sticking in our yard really making a stand? Or is it exclusionary? ... Are they free out of this Baptist carpenter's goodness, or so that no one has an excuse to not get one of their own?"

- from "Crossways" by Big Salad.




"If an adoptee comes across as angry to you—rather than ignore and dismiss that adoptee as an exception, why not try to understand that adoptee? It might be good practice and preparation for handling future issues with your own child."

- from "Your child may grow up to be a lot like me (and that’s not such an awful thing)" by Melissa at Grown In My Heart




"But nice Jesus Zombies wouldn’t eat brains, they would eat fruit."

- from "Jesus was a Zombie" by the Queen of Spain




"Again, no monopoly has ever been reformed by its current customers (or even trustees or other big donors, by the way). Monopolies only change if potential customers flock elsewhere. This is not because people in a monopoly are bad people - but they do suffer from a lack of imagination."

- from "If you send your children to school, you are inhibiting schools reform" by Unschooling Rules.




"Not one single, solitary soul will be attracted to Jesus because of your water fall."

- from "'Wonderful' First Baptist Dallas Computerized Fountain: An 'Architectural Invitation to the Gospel of Jesus Christ'?" by FBC Jax Watchdog.

The anniversary of losing his ring ... again.

If you have ever met my husband, you know he is THE nicest guy on the planet.

Made of pure gold.

Genuinely cares about everyone around him.

Funny.

Crass at all the right moments.

But (cause we all have a butt AND a but) in 15 years of marriage, we're now looking to buy him his THIRD wedding ring. When he first told me, I joked about blogging it but then relented. Then, he reminded me that this will be ring #3. AT that point ... well, I just had no choice!

First, he has to take his ring off often because it never fits snugly enough to keep on while washing his hands, etc. Second, he is a professional at misplacing things. Seriously. PROFESSIONAL. I think he even has that specialization on his teaching certificate. I love this because he is so AWESOME in a million areas. I gotta' have something I can rag on. This is it. I must use it to its fullest.

So, another ring has gone missing.

I suggested we just tattoo this one on. He has some concern with this, seeing how it will be quite a problem once he decides to leave me.

Ohhhh, see him ... with the funny? *she swings - he ducks*

Guess we'll be hitting James Avery before too long. NOT Ebay.



Yeah. Not gonna' happen.

Do you hear me Michael Moers? I know you've already google searched it (save your carpal tunnel and don't even think about seeing if there is a Baylor option).

NOT. GONNA'. HAPPEN.

I drank the Kool Aid

I have a Mac.

My boys have been saving for over a year to buy their own laptop. We worked a deal with them to buy mine, which gives them much more bang for their buck. It also allowed me go ahead and replace my laptop, which ignited the question ...

"Should my next laptop be a Mac?"

In the words of Christine Moers: OH. MY. HOLY. HOOCH.

The only question which might spark more passion and debate would be to stand in the middle of Oklahoma and scream, "Should I cheer for OU or OSU?"

*NOTE: I immediately caused a firestorm for listing OU before OSU in that sentence. I am not kidding. It is THAT COLOSSAL! The whole piddly UT/A&M thing has NOTHING on Oklahoma Bedlam. If you have ever lived in Oklahoma - you know.*

I will not bore you with my decision-making process. But, alas, I am now the proud owner of a refurbished Macbook Pro. I guess you could say I was a Mac dialer, after the purchase of my iPhone. But this was a pretty big jump for me.

And just like the month of feeling like a complete moron as I tried to figure out how to hang up my new phone, I now find myself frozen at a few basic tasks on my new laptop. The learning curve is not huge, but it's the tiny things which cause me to curse ever so slightly under my breath. One never has any idea just how extensively they right click, until living in a world without such a thing.

Feel free to air your "Tastes great!" "Less filling!" opinions in the comments. For now, I stare at a red, underline type-o and have no way to right click and choose the correct spelling. Someone HELP ME!

*UPDATE: thanks to the interwebs, within literally minutes of posting, reader "Kimberly" had me right clicking on my new Mac! Whoop! I would link to her, but neither of her blogs have been updated since 2006 and 2007? Um, Kimberly ....*