The world turns around and astonishes us

I am going back over and over again to about the 9:30 mark of this talk. Making myself hear. Evaluating myself. Holy crap.

The park, it is a hoppin'

Things are grand out at ye 'ole RV park. We are at capacity all the time. Those we have staying to do oil work in the area are wonderful. Things are horribly dry and everyone is desperate for rain, but we're nourished by kindness.

To help me pass the time while I avoided passing out went for a run last week, I took some pictures of my favorite things in the area. This covers about two miles. You get to see our neighbors up the hill and over by "the big green house," our "hill," the park, Dr. Bob's blue cabin, and of course - the double wide.

My little slice of the planet. Perfectly simple.

Perspective

"Starting over from zero changes your ambitions. Instead of fantasizing about winning the lottery, you ask yourself, 'Do I own socks? A toothbrush? Do I have a shirt that's not covered in blood?'" - from Sandman Slim (stolen from John Rabon's status update - note the link is to my favorite post of his at Eat My Blog)

And on the same day I read:

"The other day I was standing in line at the grocery story and I overheard the man behind me complaining about having to wait in line... and I couldn't help but to wonder just how often we take our blessings for granted?" from Amy at Building the Blocks. Click on the link to truly understand what she is saying.

Perspective.

John and Amy have never met. Probably never will. Yet, I consider both friends. They are separately taking on massive mountains in their lives. Have tremendous respect for them. Cling to what little time I ever get with them these days. Love them. Use the same words to describe both: real, empathic, controversial, strong, discerning, sincere, affable ...

Perspective.





(photo by Kasia Petlak, used with permission)

18 months of dreads

"How long are you going to keep them?"

Um, I don't know. Forever? Two more weeks? I have no desire to NOT have them right now.

"Do you still like them?"

No. I still love them. Just like any way you style your hair, I have days I want a change. I have days I want to cut them off. No different than you. However, I have more days that I DON'T want to do any of those things now that I have dreads. I think some people were just meant to let their hair go on its own. Apparently, I am one of those people. It suits me. My hair makes me happy and it perfectly fits my deliberately simplified lifestyle.

"How do you maintain your dreads?"

I don't! That's why I have dreads. They just ... hang there. I listen to my scalp. If I feel itchy or greasy, I wash my hair (baking soda and apple cider vinegar rinses). That may be every three days or it may be once a week. Depends. I just pay attention and do it when it says so. Every once in awhile my girls will watch a movie while weaving in some of my frizzies. Or I'll go weeks with my frizzies flying all over the place. People sometimes stare. People sometimes gawk. I don't mind. My hair IS a little strange and fascinating. I'm a walking exhibit. Whatevs.

"Do you take all that stuff out of there - ever?"

I have peyote stitch sleeves and beads stuck here and there. I rarely take them out (except for a fiber bead I have that likes to fall apart if it gets washed). I have made a few. I have been given a few. I just leave them. I move them around occasionally, because the thickness and shape of each dread changes from time to time. But usually they just sit there, waving at people.

"What does your husband think?"

Even when I still appeared more conventional, I was constantly changing my hair. It has always been like a canvas to me. My husband has said the same thing for years, "Do what makes you happy. You are the most beautiful when you are happy." That has never changed. I never have to ask. I watch his face when he looks at me. He finds me amazingly beautiful.

Eighteen months this week.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(this is a photo by my friend, Jenn - makes me miss her and the whole family so very much)




*you can send your own Magical Milk Pic to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com*

Middle-aged sex

"Honey, I'm going to blog about middle-aged sex."

Instead of laughing at every little thing I threw out there, he just kept saying, "Right? RIGHT?" A few more seconds and he would've been yelling, "Preach it!" and jumped a pew. Which would have been interesting, seeing how we don't have any pews in our house. Perhaps the bench of our dining room table.

So, back to my point: it is funny. Sex as you age can get very, very funny! And I'm on the early side of it. I have a whole world of quirky, creaky things I have yet to experience.

Sex is better than it has ever been. My marriage is better than it has ever been. Yet, now sex is more like a video game. There are all these awesome prizes and treasures out there, but you have to work around obstacles to get to them.

Appendages fall asleep. You can take your fish oil and be active, but it just is what it is. Aging appendages start to lose their once-perfect circulation. Stay in one place too long, and it's deader than a doornail.

Things sometimes slow down as you age. Not a horrible thing ... unless you have appendages falling asleep. Or you have laundry that needs to be moved over to the dryer. Or you get a cramp. Oh, yeah. Cramps are hot!

I have a creative mind, but as I age, the creativity has remained along with some lovely fog to make it interesting. Anyone else? Raise your hand. Your ... raise your hand. HEY! FOCUS!

There is a very delicate balance. Sometimes you may find it necessary to move your thought process over to your grocery list ... or basketball scores. This helps you buy some time when (repeat: things sometimes slow down as you age). But you can't let your brain go too far one direction. Gotta' stay in the game at least a LITTLE. It is a high wire act, I swear! We have to do this with our new, aging, foggier brains. Yeeeeesh. No pressure.

When appendages fall asleep, they eventually must wake up. OH, SWEET MOTHER, nothing puts a cramp in the after-glow more than pins and needles in your hands and wrists. "Sweetie, that was aweso ... awe ... ow, ow, OW, OW, OWWWWWWWWW!" So romantic.

There is another fine line: the balance between soaking up the moment and enjoying it before someone unintentionally falls asleep (I hear that has happened to other people - we don't know anything about that).

Sometimes you can engage and be switching everything up and feel all very Sex in the City. However, more times than not, you have your tired brain and your tired body and the stress of the day all working against you. There must be extreme, intense focus. Wax on, wax off. Wax on - "STOP TALKING! I have to concentrate" - wax off. Wax on - "DON'T MOVE! I'm in the zone!" - Wax off.

Did you know that some people can lay on a pillow just fine. However, flat surfaces sometimes kick in the vertigo. You want the room to spin when you have sex ... ya' know ... but FIGURATIVELY.

Having kids throws in its own set of kinks. "We could do this before lights out or after. If it's before, we are down to just 23 minutes. I still need to brush my teeth and pee. That takes us down to 20 minutes - so there could be zero talking. Uh huh - this conversation right here would have to be foreplay. If we wait til after, we both want to watch our Netflix movies and still get to bed at a decent hour. So, maybe we could talk dirty on Facebook BEFORE, and then try to knock this out quickly after. Yup, that's pushing it, but one of us is recovering from a cold. You did yard work and won't be able to move tomorrow. This is really our only shot. Ready - BREAK!"

Ever have your back just - GO OUT when you're spreadin' the love? No? Well, you have not lived, my friend.

I think you get klutzier as you get older. Your honey goes to move and you have pinned her down by her hair. You take out noses and eyes in the dark with elbows (or hands, as you're shaking out the pins-and-needles). Same goes for depth perception. More and more we go in for the kiss and end up making out with a chin.

It's FUNNY! It's part of it. Sometimes none of these things happen. Sometimes all of these things happen. We just dance with it. We laugh. Sometimes roll our eyes. Always happy that we're playing this video game with one another ... the fabulous and the achy wrists and the accidental black eyes.


It's FUNNY!

Step inside the tiny, little world of somebody else

"While nothing is easier
than to denounce the evildoer;
nothing is more difficult
than to understand him.
- Fyodor Dostoevsky

You should go

Relax. Recenter. Reflect. Refresh. Rejuvenate.

Dreams

Last night I dreamt (throwing a little love to the Brit's) that President Obama stayed at my house for a few days.

Only, I didn't live here. The house was different.

We had a blast. At one point I actually said, "Dude, when you're speaking publicly, you're like early RAD - stiff as a board. You are WAY more fun in person!"

And he was all, "Yeah, sorry about that."

It was just the two of us.

We snacked a LOT (hummus - no surprise there) and watched a lot of basketball.

It was bright and sunny. Lots of windows.

We just ... ya' know ... hung out.

WTH?

Welcome. to. my. brain.

Down time

Today I am taking some time for me.

I will not apologize.

I will not feel guilty, knowing that if I DON'T - then I will feel very guilty over the person I will become (it only takes a few hours for me to turn into a giant ball of We-Really-Wish-She-Would-Go-Away).

This morning my kids are starting on some of their things, and I will stay right here on my bed. They will fight, and I will probably referee from here ... but I'm not budging for awhile.

I put on my favorite pants.

I put on my favorite black cami from The Buckle, which is now what I like to call "beautifully faded wanna-be black."

I am going to attempt to learn a Ben Lee song on my guitar.

I am not going to clean up the mess around my bed.

I am not going to declutter a room.

I am going to take some Vitamin C and then make a giant cup of coffee.

This morning I am going to take some time for me so I can be better.

Tell me about that

Still working through lots of non-bad-trauma related feelings about adoption in our house.

I have been the queen of:

"What's going on?"

"Tell me about that."

"What does it mean that you feel mad?"

My youngest child cannot figure out what hit her, as she looks up and has been talking about her feelings openly and had no intention of doing so. Thank you, Chicago.

Today there was much acting out, so I got my curious-self in the groove. Empathetic beyond belief. I did not want to be. I also felt very, very MAD and FRUSTRATED and PUT OUT that I was sitting there letting my kid blab on and on and on and on for what felt like HOURS (it was seven minutes) while avoiding what was REALLY going on. But I rode the wave.

To backtrack, I just started on a really large tattoo piece last night (and by "I," what I really mean is Olivia hunched over me for several hours working her magic). I didn't get home til well after bedtime. So during this morning's marathon seven-minute conversation, my child was crying about how I "left" her for "so long." (um, yeah, okay ... whatever ... it was half a day ... how long do I have to sit here listening to this because it FEELS LIKE HALF A DAY!)

Then, out it came. Clear as a bell. Knocked me on my butt. I stayed curious. I kept asking questions. I matched my face to her painful expressions and BOOM:

"Kids want to be just like their moms, but now I'm scared to get a tattoo! WHAAAAAAAA!"

Seriously. There had been much talk about the needles and the pain, and then this morning she saw how HUGE it was, and it was red and welted, and ... don't miss the best part ...

This worked against her greatest goal, which is to be just like her mom.

Wadda' ya' know? Best seven minutes of my life.



(photo by Graham Briggs, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

©Imagesbysparks.com



(photo taken by Deanna Kjorlien at Images By Sparks, used with permission - west coaster's, pay attention, as she's AMAZING!)



*you can submit your own Magical Milk pic to christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

What healing REALLY looks like

A few years back I listened/watched a Nancy Thomas audio or DVD (sorry, I can't be more specific!). In that, somewhere, she was talking about kids as they are healing. She made the comment that some kids have one last big "hurrah" ... almost as one final test to make sure this whole love and trust thing is for real.

That stuck with me.

It stuck with me like the time a lady looked at me and said, "Your baby can sleep through the night in eight weeks."

You don't say those things to desperate mothers. You just don't. You don't even hint at it, a little bit. We will hear it how we choose to hear it and engrave it in the stubborn stone of our minds and swear by it. We will lose all logical thinking. We will then grieve and mourn when our lives and/or actual remnants of logical thinking step in and force us to look at the big picture.

A last "hurrah"??

Yeah, we've had that. We've had it 1,026 times, minimum.

That is not what healing looks like in our home.

However, a year ago I saw a wonderful little graph created by the Porter's. It is the most beautifully non-scientific graph in the history of graphs. I made one of my own to give you an idea:



THAT IS WHAT HEALING LOOKS LIKE IN MY HOUSE!

To look at that graph, one cannot deny that healing is actually occurring. Right? Of course. We all have eyeballs and brains. Yet, living in the middle of that graph is a whole other ball of wax.

You are always moving forward, even when behaviors are regressive. However, living with regressive behaviors when you have had a taste of those high points on the graph is BEYOND DIFFICULT. That is why I made my own copy of the graph. That is why I may tattoo it to my forehead and etch it into the glass on my bathroom mirror.

This stuff is hard.

What does healing look like in my home? We can make a touching video (which is all true, and the love you see is all there - the smiles and feelings are genuine). Yet, the next day one child is dealing with their anniversary while we are trying to get to a fun activity. I attempted to help them work through it so they could actually play upon arrival. I found myself being yelled at in the middle of a grocery store parking lot. Senior adults staring at me. Good times.

The day after our celebration (which, by the way, went off without any behavioral hitches whatsoever!), another child waited until I left for a run before picking a fight with dad. They were fulfilling a desperate internal need to punish themselves for the great day they had. Much to their dismay, Dad was rockin' the therapeutic interventions that day, and did not engage.

That is healing in our home. My kids can have their good day now. They can let others have a good day. They can give you that celebration and enjoy it, themselves. However, one tends to act out before and another acts out after. That's not cut-and-dry, of course. Now, wouldn't THAT be easy?

It's still there. The pain and hurt is still there. The trauma still exists in their core. Yet, I look at that chart and say, "Yup. Can't deny it. The good is better than we've had. Absolutely - even when it is still whonky."

The whonky is better.

A new way to view empathy

Show up

"He reminded us for the bazillionth time that if we are faithful to do the day to day things, faithful to stick to the slow work, faithful to show up and try, that the results are not up to us." (Tara Livesay quoting John McHoul)

No need to explain how this applies to therapeutic parenting ... our tribe and community ... marriage ... parenting, in general.

Three years

Tomorrow marks three years since The Rock and Mar joined our family.

Three years since I officially became a therapeutic parent - that thing I never thought I'd be ... never wanted to be.

Three years that, in hindsight, feel like decades ago.

Three of the hardest years of any of our lives ... all of us.

Three years of lather, rinse, repeat. Lather rinse, repeat.

Three years of doing the opposite of what I felt like doing (MOST days ... sort of).

Three years of trying to maintain a balance between my hurt kids, my attached kids and my marriage.

Three years of knowing I was not alone in the world, but feeling alone within my personal circle most of the time.

Three years of having people question whether or not it was worth it.

Three years of having a constant spotlight shown on my own issues and my own triggers.

Can you believe it? Yeah, me either.

My oldest daughter has caught the editing bug lately. She put together this video in one day. I suggested we make an "updated" video of where Mar is and how far she has come. I had no idea it would turn out this great. I had no idea what it would do to me as I watched, and was reminded of how far we have come (and all of the horrible, horrible, horribleness along the way). Some of these pictures take me right back to that moment, in that place on that day. For me, this is packed with emotions: horrific and healing ... and undeniable hope.











Music is Sara Ramirez (Dr. Callie Torrez from Grey's Anatomy) performing the song "The Story", originally by Brandi Carlile, for the Grey's Anatomy musical episode.

As much as you need til you're symptom free

I have had allergy issues my entire life.

I started allergy shots two different times over the years, but moves caused me to not finish them out.

Amazingly, I have noticed my greatest relief in the last 2-3 years. This is also the time when I went mostly vegan. Absolutely, I believe there is a correlation.

Granted, I have some medication allergies, as well. I avoid penicillin and sulpha, as they give me massive hives and put me at risk for a fatal reaction (which is a major downer). In high school, I also had a very strange reaction to an over-the-counter med. I developed about eight really large welts (hives) on random areas of my body. It was miserable. As you can imagine, it was also EXTREMELY attractive (one being on my eye - lovely). I eventually ended up with a round of steroids to make them go away.

In college, I took some Dramamine, and realized quickly I was having the same reaction.

Fast forward almost 20 years.

I forgot my sea bands on my recent flight to Chicago. Stopped in the airport and grabbed some Dramamine. I have not had a reaction to any medication in years. I had strictly avoided Dramamine. Strict avoidance can be a precursor to overcoming lesser reactions. What could it hurt?

Famous last words.

Five days later, I was a mess. I was not only reacting to the medicine, but it triggered a few other very (very, very, very, very, very) not-fun issues in my body. Needless to say, all of my new friends in Chicago now know why I jumped into an improv activity with, "Thankfully they make medication for such an embarrassing itch!" IT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT.

I started rounds of Benadryl, and it was barely touching it. In fact, I was starting to wonder if I wasn't starting to react to Benadryl (a close cousin to Dramamine - FYI, I HATE that family!). Two days ago I started to make the calculations in my head, "Okay, if I go into the weekend like this, I'm hitting a minor emergency clinic on Saturday and we're going to steroid the bajeebiz out of this thing." I don't like steroids, and try to avoid them when possible. But this was bad.

IT WAS HAZMAT SUIT BAD.

Then, two nights ago, I was looking around to find out if, indeed, I was developing an allergy to Bendryl on top of everything else. Whadda' ya' know. Something grabbed my attention.

Vitamin C is a natural antihistimine.

Now, half of you were already yelling this at me, just reading my post. I have heard this before. I have read this before. But in my itchy stupor, I could not recall my phone number, much less some vitamin brilliance. What is a half-hippie to do? I went over to see what 'ole Andrew Saul had to say.

"Take enough C to be symptom free, whatever the amount might be... but stay a few thousand milligrams under the amount that would cause loose bowels."

That last part is my favorite. I guess if I overdid it, I'll have something else to blog about in a few days.

But guess what?

Yup - GONE! A week and a half of misery, trying to medicate myself free from it, and ...

GONE! Within hours. GONE!

Last night I started to notice a little inflammation returning in my eye and mouth. Some more Vitamin C ... within an hour it was fading.

So, just in case you didn't quite catch that ...

GONE!

And next time I'll just barf on the plane.




(photo by Willie Cloete, used with permission)

They still learn through play

Learning through play is not just for younger children. My older four kids still love to carry out full "seasons" of Survivor with their Webkinz. It can take up to a week, depending on other stuff we have going on. They create new challenges all the time. There are hidden immunity idols, fake immunity idols, Tribal Council, reward challenges ... you name it. They are very detailed about it.

Their latest passion has been video and photography with our old phones. They have been working on something for a few weeks now, bits and pieces at a time. I have no way of describing just how much they learned and benefited from it: following direction from siblings, collaborating to get each little job completed, creativity to add pizazz to the project, problem-solving, etc.

I wanted to share the fruits of their labor with you. I think the trailer they created is great, but what has truly amazed me is their ability to work together to accomplish a goal. Every child participated and did not attempt to sabotage the final result (in the middle of things). There was some acting out later in the day on occasion. Yet, during the moment they held it together. They were a part of a team.

This is a beautiful picture of healing and hope.




I helped them put it all together in iMovie. It made it look this good and was easy peasy. I highly recommend.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

He's playing with his car while nursing. So cute!



(photo by Kimberly Maher, used with permission)

The grass is always greener

My life hands me unusual gifts, now that my side yard is an RV park. I meet new people all the time. This revolving door of guests has, and continues to, teach me things.

I have grasped a great truth over the last several years, but my experiences here at the park have solidified it: life is beautiful and life is ugly - it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with or where you're going or where you've been.

I'm like everyone else. There have been plenty of nights spent pining away over things I do not have, places I want to go, jobs I'd rather work. The older I get, the more I have those occasional bouts of panic, "This is it. This is the life I get. Have I done everything I want to do?" Such thoughts used to cause my heart to palpitate, but I have a new mindset which shows me that I have done and experienced more than I could have ever imagined. It's like a backward Bucket List! I discover the great experiences of my life as I go along, instead of dictating all of them.

A friend directed me to a poem recently. "Sometimes" by Mary Oliver. A few lines caught my eye:

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

That nails perfectly how I view life at this point. It is not supposed to be a constant cycle of trying to get to the next big thing. When it becomes that, you miss EVERYTHING. This week, as we were driving home, my husband and I marveled at just how beautiful the countryside is. We love it out here. It's no Colorado. Our lake looks nothing like the ocean. Yet, it's beautiful. It's gorgeous. There is wonderment everywhere, if only we will stop and pay attention.

When I pay attention, I am astonished. My children astonish me. My marriage astonishes me. My friends and neighbors astonish me. When I look and hear and see and absorb, I am amazed at the little bits of fabulous I discover.

"The grass is always greener ..."

Maybe. But who said green defines perfect beauty in grass? Why can't brown be beautiful? What about dirt? Dirt can be beautiful and amazing - astonishing, even.

New things cause our hearts to pound harder. New experiences open our eyes to something we may want to consider. New and different is fun - a THRILL! I love change. Yet, if that's all I think about, I am actually missing some of the best parts of my life.

The reality is: eventually that "new thing" will be an "old thing." That "new place" is someone's "old place." The "bright shiny thing" that caught your eye will eventually be the "dull thing" that needs replacing.

Pay attention. Be astonished. Then tell someone about it.





(photo taken amongst the weeds near my repo double-wide)

We can only, ever, be "good enough"

Have I mentioned that I think he's the bomb diddly (assuming that's still a cool thing to say)?

"Maybe we’ll remember that we can only, ever, be 'good enough.' That part of our practice of being therapeutic means we’ll only aim to hit it 75% of the time. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll forgive ourselves for the other 25%. Maybe we’ll just let it go. Or we’ll encourage the letting-go in each other." - Billy Kaplan

Read the whole post here.

Know your story

The husband had a birthday

His name is Michael.




He is wearing his 40's well.




He loves me, yes. But he also likes me and tolerates me.




He was born to be a father. He has chosen to do the work to learn what it means to be a therapeutic parent. And he does it. He's a typical dad x 4000.




He is so very brave. Made a major life change in his 40's, which involved massive risk and indescribable faith.




He rocks my world ... every last inch of it. *wink-wink*




His name is Michael.
He is incomparable.

How I survive a bad day

"Christine, how do you do it?"

There is no magic formula (except for the one that begins, "Add one part coconut rum ..."). I want to tell you there is. I want to give you a checklist, but it's basically outwit, outlast, outplay.

I came home from the weekend, ready to create a safe place for one of my kids to begin working through some of their pain we have all just danced around for awhile.

I did my part.

They did theirs (insert sound of giant explosion here).

I found myself where we all do at times. "There is a reason I have put this off. This is ugly. This is painful. This is full of behaviors and I'm pretty sure I have now changed my mind and just want to go back to my state of slightly annoyed denial."

Yet, here we sit in a textbook spiral of shame and blame. Yesterday was UGLY.

UGLY!

How did I survive it?

First, I did all the therapeutic parenting crap I know to do. I was playful. Kept my kid close. Danced with the crazy, crazy. Tried a few new ideas I picked up recently to compliment what we already do. I received the most attitude I think one human can stomach at any one time. I watched one child give new meaning to defiance, arguing and yelling. I had to make a decision in the car to keep everyone safe. I was in a constant cycle of feeling unbelievable compassion immediately followed by wanting to smack that snotty little scowl right off their face.

I have a few tricks I use for myself on days like this. First, I choose therapeutic tools that make ME feel better, even when I hate them. For instance, if I need to get silly (but don't want to), I choose silliness that may bring me at least a LITTLE pleasure. Singing a favorite song of mine, turning on music I LOVE and dancing, slowly putting my dreads up into really high ponytails so they have to work harder to stay mad while looking at me. Think of things you love that you can turn into therapeutic silliness. Sometimes I just lay down on the ground. Just lay there, sprawled out. Other times I go into the kitchen, grab a pan and a spoon and just start banging, encouraging my kid to join me. WHATEVER.

My other four kids were wanting to make the trip to a Homeschool park day and hopefully get into the river for at least a little while. I didn't want them to miss out. Stay home and be miserable or go there and be miserable? I assessed the situation and decided that I could tolerate the acting out to make this work.

There WAS acting out, but we made it (after pulling over to address some wango tango - it was 92 degrees yesterday - I'm just sayin').

At one point a non-park-personnel looking guy came over very close to where we were and just stood. Weird. He had a very large pole (that's not a euphemism ... he really was holding a pole). He smiled at me, lifted his eyebrows then gently touched his fingers to his lips and said, "Shhhhhh." That's when it finally all made sense: I noticed the large metal loop on the end of said pole. He was out watching for snakes, and he was letting me know there was one in the tree right in front of us.



Yup. That's a water moccasin. "Kids, there's a water moccasin in the tree right here, so you may not want to come in this direction. He seems to be having a nap and just wants to be left alone. Yes, he's the kind that could kill you, but only if he is frightened. How 'bout you keep swimming and we just won't frighten him."

And so they did. I sat and contemplated the 47 analogies in the situation and the words I had just said. Watched my kids splash and squawk about the cold water ten feet from the poisonous snake (that we could see ... let's not pretend the river isn't full of them). I took a breath. I sat. I kept my sunglasses on under the shade of a tree and I cried. Eventually we left. One more hour survived, and it actually brought with it something interesting and pleasant.

The kids had already worked to make our meal menu for the week. They planned it, wrote out the chart, made the grocery list and kept the whole thing vegan. It was beautiful. That also meant that we needed to add a trip to the store ... with all five ... on a trauma day. Everyone was on edge, but we did it.



How did I survive the grocery store? I sang "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" the whole time. Not terribly loud, but enough for me to hear myself. I have no idea why I wanted to sing that particular song on that particular day. I have no idea why it made me so very happy. But it did. So I did it. It also guaranteed that my kids stayed a good ten feet away from me (what I now refer to as the "Water Moccasin Effect").

I grabbed snacks and water on the way out. That bought me about 20 quiet minutes on the way home (before another stop on the side of the road to calm down the crazies - did I mention it was 92 degrees?).

Once home, I put on a pot of Cheater Pants beans and rice (canned beans). I then handed off all parenting duties to my husband. I threw on my running clothes and ran away. I could only do a mile and a half before I found myself in the dark, so I picked only my very favorite songs and ran out my own big feelings and cried when I was gasping for air.

I came home and wandered around in circles in my room until I knew most of the kids were in bed. Made myself a big bowl of rice & beans. Unloaded on my sweet Michael before hitting the shower. Grabbed my old copy of "Helping Children Cope with Separation & Loss" and reminded myself of some things I can add to my repertoire. Then I pulled up the latest episode of "Grey's Anatomy" and wept like a colicky infant.

Then I slept.

And started all over again.


Smiling all the way up to my crow's feet!

SPACE blew my mind

(this picture was taken just as I was about to get on the TRAIN train ... not the "L" - it also may or may not be just before I lost Billy Kaplan's borrowed umbrella on my very first leg of my afternoon of sight-seeing in Chicago ... LO-SER!)


I have no idea what to say about this weekend.

I mean, I have so very much to say, but I don’t know where to start and I really don’t know that I could capture all that it was for me. There is no way. I will write about it, and those who were there will completely understand, yet I will never truly convey to the rest of you how it all played out, and how important the experience was for all of us (even though we all left with different things that made the greatest impact on us).

I went into the conference very excited. It was a conference for parents! You're surprised, right? Because I haven't said that 4,982 times already. I knew there would be plenty of value in it. I knew there would be quality information shared. I knew parents would be refreshed and leave feeling more hopeful. I did not know the level of intimacy it would take on. THAT took me by surprise.




After all the stalking vetting I had done with HCC, I also felt some pressure to ... well, to not suck! I knew what they DID was amazing, but I had no idea just how much one practice could be stacked with so many amazing therapists and support staff. Sure, they are wonderful at therapeutic techniques, but by “amazing,” I mean fun and engaging and the kind of people you want to surround yourself with. They have a powerful and distinct energy. I was thrilled as the introductions slowly happened, but I also thought, “I really hope they’re not disappointed in what I’m bringing to the weekend.” I knew how hard they had worked to put it all together. I wanted to add to it in a way which maybe made their lives a little easier - filled a gap. This was very important to me. I have nothing but the utmost respect, not just for what they do in practice, but truly who they are as people.




Over the past couple of weeks I had also managed to bully encourage several people who read my blog to attend. Parents ... oh my cow, I could hang out with other parents of trauma all. day. long. They are my peeps. My tribe. Even if they don’t find me funny, and my hair creeps them out, we still all have common ground, and PLENTY to talk about.



(these two gals, OH MY HOOCH, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, they had me at "hello" - they are so special and had the hearts of everyone who met them - I LOVE THE M & M!)

It gave new meaning to the word "humbled." When you know one lady flew from out of state to come because you encouraged it, this other person drove 10 hours, another mom bowed out of a church obligation to be there and strengthen her parenting, and on and on and on, you start to feel the truth in those journeys. I know what it takes to make a trip happen in my home. I know the payback that will come after. I know the details and the laundry and the shopping and the packing and, and, and ... There were plenty of local people, but there were also people who knew about it and came because I was there.

I felt that.

I felt it very, very deeply.

More than that, I can't believe I am now able to have them all as friends! I won't even dare to try to list them all, because I will surely leave someone off. They may have heard about the conference through me, but I'm just a mom who is muddling through like they are. I'm a person who covers up her insecurities with humor and happens to enjoy writing. I'm no different than anyone else. I suck and succeed and rock at it and blow it. This weekend, I met new friends who inspired me and I plan to harass on a regular basis (I have your cell phone numbers, ladies ... mwah-ha-ha-ha!).



(after two years of talking online and on the phone, it was about stinkin' time that Hannah and I finally wrapped our arms around each other, and yes - she is just as sweet and delightful in person!)

I posted a while back on the inclusion of an improv group as a part of the first day. Again, it seemed like a great idea. It sounded fun. Perhaps we would even all chuckle a little bit. What none of us were expecting was just how much we would connect during that time and go into lunch already feeling a sense of community.





(this is Lindsay, who I have just connected with recently, but am now locked to forever - go read her and give her some lovin')

There were plenty of dads there this weekend. My LANDS, I thought mothers of trauma touched my heart, but these dads blew me away. I have the world’s most amazing husband. I don’t say that lightly. When it comes to what our home needs to function at its strongest, he is “it.” He. is. amazing. I met so many “Michael’s” in that room. I met men who still struggle with some parts of all of this, but they made the effort to be there, too. They were changing themselves so they could facilitate healing for their kids. They don’t approach therapeutic parenting like the mom’s do. They each had their own “style,” and they were willing to try and to learn. As I sat, sipping coffee, 1200 miles from home ... I realized I had not worried for a second about what was going on back in the double wide. I knew my husband was on it. I knew what a gift these men were to their wives. My smile was so big it hurt.





(love these two guys, and they were not annoyed at ALL that I kept taking their picture during this exercise and making gay bar references ... nope, they found me HILARIOUS!)

By the end of the first night, when I stood up to share my own story, I felt completely and totally connected to every single person in that room. More than anything, I just wanted them to feel loved and valued and grieved for and encouraged. I wanted them to not feel like they were drowning, if for just a few moments. I wanted to cover their hearts with a balm of laughter and tears.




Finally, last and anything but least, I had the honor and privilege of confirming that Billy Kaplan is, indeed, a truly amazing person. I'm still not sure why more people have not heard of him (as in, why hasn't EVERYONE heard of him?). I had no idea that I had a Jewish fraternal twin separated from me at birth, but apparently such a thing is possible.

No, really.

He has that spark and ability to truly connect with parents. He challenges without making them feel attacked (which is next-to-impossible to do when dealing with such hurting and pummeled adults). I listened to the man speak all weekend, and not ONCE did he piss me off by saying anything that put me on the defensive. Yet, he's also painfully human (admits it and celebrates it). So, if he were to have a slip of the tongue, he would fix it. I know a lot of you really struggle with therapists who have never actually parented trauma. Rest assured, there are some out there who "get it" and work hard to always be what you need. I found the crown jewel.

He also has the patience of Job, as I cornered him every chance I got and picked his brain about e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. I'm still a little terrified that I'll receive a bill in the mail in a few weeks. I may have taken advantage of this a lot bit. Thankfully, he also knows I will pee on his bill and send it right back (I have no problem talking smack, seeing how he RARELY reads my blog - obviously his greatest flaw).

Speaking of pee! Billy plays the baritone ukulele and has an amazing voice. He accompanied me on the Pee Song Saturday night. Oh yeah, he did! Only in a room full of parents of trauma would that happen and I overhear a woman refer to it as "dreamy!" HA! I'm telling you - my brother from another mother!




My children have already looked at me several times and asked, "Did you learn that in Chicago?" Perhaps it is because my approach has been refreshed, or simply for the fact that such a refresher has kept my head from spinning around and flames shooting out of my nostrils. In fact, I sat down with my oldest two this morning, and walked them through how to be curious with one another when they are working through a problem, and they did it!



(YEA! Mom's home!)

I think the staff at House Calls Counseling is currently in the middle of a two week nap, as they should be. Eventually, however, they are going to create some podcasts or videos/audio of the conference and make them available. You will know as soon as I do. In the meantime, mark your calendars for next Spring. I'll be there again ... hail, wind or high water.

Worth. your. time. money. effort. and payback.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Click here to read the story. Click here for a recap of Tara's first "catch" during a birth in Haiti.


(photo by Tara Livesay and Heartline Ministries, used with permission)




*you can submit your own Magical Milk pic to christinemoers at hotmail dot com*

Forgive me daughter, for I have avoided this

I'm working on a post about my weekend.

In the words of Lindsay, "I have been to 32 parenting conferences, and this was, by far, the best."

Such a simple sentence for the enormity of trying to actually blog about it - capture it. I need more time.

In the meantime, there was something else I felt like I needed to say out loud. Initially, I decided I would write about the great conference and conveniently put this off. We all know what that means ... eventually guarantees that it won't ever happen.

I have to say this out loud because it is my dark little secret I have been keeping for almost a year now. *insert long pause as I sit here staring at my screen thinking, "What the hell am I about to do? This is going to make me be accountable and it is the ONE thing I managed to skirt around!"*



Through the process of creating an environment of safety for my kids from the hard places, I have lost all patience with my youngest child. She is now eight. She has a fully open adoption. She has stuff to deal with and process through. She is at an age where she is feeling the pain and loss of her adoption. I know what it is. I can talk about it. Yet, for the past year, I have found myself having little or no patience with her. In my head, I'm constantly screaming, "NO! I have sacrificed so much in the last three years to help your brother and sister heal. You don't get to take a turn now. NO, NO, NO! YOU JUST HAVE TO BE OKAY!"

(NOTE: I just reread "for the past year" and changed it to "for awhile" - have since changed it back. I DO NOT LIKE ADMITTING HOW LONG I HAVE LET THIS GO ON - remember this is not one of my traumatized kids!).



That has left me not liking her very much. I don't even WANT to know what she thinks about me. I have a very difficult time enjoying her. She is young and cute and adorable, and when people point it out, I silently roll my eyes. I am constantly looking for a reason to correct her because she is constantly showing me how she feels through her behaviors. She needs a place to put her pain and confusion and I have been the punching bag for a very long time. Instead of changing the dynamic, I joined her battle and started rolling around in it.

I have blown it. I learned a lot over the weekend, and was reminded of even more, but the sucker punch to the gut after the VERY FIRST SESSION left me with an inner agony:

I had to come home and reconnect with my baby.




To do it, I have had to sacrifice this deep desire within me to over-regulate her and make her just STOP already. It is 2:30 in the afternoon, and I have had to think about it constantly. My reactions to her are now complete and utter habit. They have trickled down to our entire family. Everyone responds to her this way now.

And it was I who led the way.

I am absolutely, completely and totally ashamed of this. I had people tell me all weekend how much they appreciate my honesty. I received a card in the mail yet again this morning from another trauma mom I love and value, who wrote, "I love how you are raw and real. I love that you share without consequence."

Suck.

That is exactly what I try to be, but this one is harder because it is pretty deliberate and has gone on far too long.

I also have to admit that I don't want to work on it. I have been annoyed with her behavior communication for so long that I don't have much empathy left. I'm having to dig deep. It was tough to encourage mothers all weekend when I knew I was speaking all of it to myself. Now I have to DO IT.

And sure enough, I have focused on being playful and curious with her today, and she is a different child. She is being heard, and that has changed her entire countenance. I have focused on enjoying her. Thankfully, this all began first thing today. Just now, she was sitting on the sofa next to me singing, "Play that Funky Music Apple."

I laughed and smiled.



Now, someone send me this link in two more days when she's projecting her pain back onto me again, please. Thanks! You're the best!

Real friendship

I have to force myself to keep from blubbering in this little space over the friends in my life. I will never, ever be able to explain or articulate what some of these people have meant to us, nor will we ever be able to repay how they have been available to us in a million ways.

Our chosen family, away from family.

By the time this posts, I will be headed to the airport (or I overslept, and I will be scrambling and cussing). Before sitting down to write, I just hugged our dear friend goodnight. He took a day off work to sleep on our sofa so he'd be here first thing, and hang with our kids tomorrow until Michael gets home.

This is what one calls "a true friend."



No words for what he and his wife mean to us. We miss them terribly.

And while in Chicago, I get to see A. Typing it makes me cry. It will be WAY too short, but it will be wonderful.

And way too short.

My life oozes blessings, near and far.