Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo from I Am Not the Babysitter - nursing her two boys; used with permission)

Can you swing 30 days?

Since joining the fundraiser for Orlando, I have racked up 54 miles out of my 500! You can keep track of my progress with the little ticker at the bottom of my posts.

Allow me to take a moment and do a cartwheel, because Saturday morning I ran my first 10K! It was very official. The Longhorns and horses cheered me on. A few dogs actually ran along beside me and most of the time didn't get in front to trip me so I'd play. But still ... in one year I went from "I don't run" to a 10K!

As a reminder, I'm doing a jacked up fundraiser. I'm attempting to do 500 miles worth of exercise. By me doing so, and working hard and sweating a whole heck of a lot, you will then feel unbelievably encouraged to donate to the cause as you see fit! You just head over to Watching the Waters and find the "Chip In" meter on the right. No sponsorship. No monthly commitment. Just a, "Oh, since she's talking about it again, that reminds me: I want to give to the scholarship fund!"

Speaking of the exercise ...

My girls are obsessed with hooping. We have been hitting Hoop Church a lot recently, where they not only learn some new things but teach dozens of adults. It's also an ab-whoopin' for me. This week we didn't even realize we had stayed three hours.

Well, I realized it ... the next morning ... the first time I tried to bend in half.

Anywho, Pandora's Healing Hoops (the wonderful and amazing sponsor of Hoop Church) is putting out a 30/30 Hoop Challenge for the month of June. Hoop 30 minutes a day for 30 days. They are also encouraging you to stop by their Facebook page and chime in on how it's going. You don't have to be in Austin to participate!

Don't hoop? So, what CAN you do to be more active for 30 days?

I plan to keep up with my running, but add my daily hoopage with the girls, as well. It's something they love, and therefore love it when I'm out there with them. I get to strengthen my core and my relationship with my kids. Boom and BOOM.

So, who else has plans to keep their butt moving this summer?

Here's a little inspiration. Note: my girl is kinda' bad a$$!

I can totally turn your frown upside down

"It is very difficult to frown when looking at someone who smiles."

"The act of smiling, itself, actually makes us feel better. Rather than smiling being a result of feeling good."

I have an influence on those around me.

Exactly where I need to be

you and me

that creates reality

so when i sing you can feel it

when i cry you can heal it

when i speak words you can be the words i speak by singing with me

peace love free

peace love free

peace love free

and when i am alone and full of fear

i just remember the rising sun always appears

everyday miracles that i see

well they take me back to exactly where i need to be

Punching bag

This has been how I feel this week:



The deep feelings of being abandoned are huge in our home right now. One child has a rough day, and sometimes that triggers and pulls feelings to the forefront of another child. Sometimes it triggers every adopted child in your home.

I am here. I am present. I will always love and never leave. I am the perfect place to project all of that pain and confusion, without fear of more abandonment.

I have taken a lot this week. I have been beat up emotionally. I have been strung out. I have juggled three very hurting hearts, on top of my own.

These are also the times when the little things seem HUGE.

The !@#%$*&^ ice maker that I fixed last week now has a new issue ... again ... even though I thought it was resolved last night. My rosemary bush is still not transplanted. The shower head is still leaking. And my feet look weird. The longer I look at them, the weirder they look.

Mom is spent.

I have sent everyone to separate activities where they can veg out their brains and just not think so intensely for awhile (or the whole weekend ... whatever). I am eating something yummy and chock full of nutrients. I have put on some of my favorite music. I put on clothes that make me feel happy and sassy.



Tonight I will run away and play. Or eat something fattening. Or both.

It's like love incarnate

My kids can get downright gripey.

I have no idea where that comes from. *cough*

Sometimes I translate for them:

"When your sister just said, 'STOP IIIIIIT!', what she really meant was, 'I love you so much, brother, and I can't imagine life without you!"

Sometimes I cover it with smoochies:

"Oh my COW, that is the SWEETEST thing I have ever heard you say to anyone!" I then start hugging and kissing all over them.

Sometimes I go old time gospel. First you have to hit "play" on the video, and then just let her rip:



"Oh my Lord-uh! What is this I hear-uh? If you will fix your words-uh, everything else will fix itself-uh. I do believe it is love incarnate coming straight from the mouths of babes-uh!"




(HAD to share this - my dad's former rockin' awesome preacher hair - it inspires me in these moments)

Men are from Mars, and they forget everything

In September, the husband and I celebrate 16 years of marriage. I guess that means our union will finally be old enough to drive.

Last night I had the sweetest moment. Ten or so years ago, it would have been a disaster, a fight and I would have been a puddle of tears. Instead, it was super sweet.

We went to a Chinese food buffet with the family. In true Moers fashion, the kids were thrilled, because they had an unlimited supply of really crappy food. My youngest over-stuffed herself which landed us both hanging in the bathroom not knowing if it was the over consumption or possibly her food allergies. It was her over consumption, which kept me from being able to scarf down my last bit of sushi. I pouted.

A grand night at the Grand Buffet (or whatever the heck hokey thing they call it).

We all hopped into the car. My husband had a giant grin on his face and handed me his fortune. We always add "in bed" to them, so I figured it was a good one! *winkity-wink-wink*

I am looking at this:



My face LIGHTS UP! You see, almost exactly 16 years ago (possibly to the day), Michael drove up to Brownwood, Texas, and had dinner with my co-workers and me. I was about to move to Houston to start the rest of my life with him. No one had said the word "marriage," but everyone knew. We went out for Chinese that night. Guess what my fortune was that night?

Yup. You guessed it. Same exact one.

I took a picture of the two of us that night and framed it with the fortune. It was around the house for years. Since this past move, it is still tucked away somewhere with hundreds of other photos.

Here is the sweet part that was actually sweet, and not an end to our marital bliss.

Michael just thought it was funny. First, because of the "in bed" game. It was basically saying, "You might as well be content, dude. This is it. You hit the jackpot." Second, because he read it when I was out of the room ... and our son was sitting next to him. heh. heh.

Of course, when I had to explain to him, "Honey, this is THE fortune - the one in the frame we have had up around our house for most of our marriage," ... he apologized. He felt bad that he didn't remember.

Such a guy thing.

It did not upset me, in the least. Years ago I would have been mortified. I expected him to be super human. I neglected the million things he DOES do and DOES remember, where I fail miserably. Instead, I was able to watch his face and his eyes as I reminded him. We shared this quick moment in the front seat of our minivan, filled with five children. We remembered a day when we were so much younger and had no idea what the next 16 years would bring.

Now I have to dig around and see if I can find that stinkin' framed fortune so I can add this one to it.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Asateague Island, 1996

(photo by Gwenyth MacArthur)

We produce a lot of crap

We have made a much more deliberate effort to recycle over the last few months. It has been very telling:

we produce a lot of crap

Thankfully, we have caught many, many things that can be recycled which had previously hit the landfill.

Our nearest recycling is a 30 minute drive. We have a neighbor who goes regularly and doesn't mind taking some of it in for us (repeat: a LOT of crap). Yesterday it was pretty great when he - the Recycle Guru - said, "They won't take those cups right there." And my eight-year-old said, "They do! Look at the bottom. There's the little triangle!"

It can be a pain in the rump, but it feels SO GOOD! It also breaks my heart to think of how much glass and plastic are sitting across Texas and Oklahoma because of our family. Granted, we haven't always had access to adequate programs. Many times our hands were tied. Yet, even when we had the opportunity, we didn't always use it fully.

We have kicked our own selves in the butts.

So, needless to say, I was doing cartwheels just now when I read about the "Ask for Glass" campaign (you can find them via Facebook and Twitter). It is sponsored by the Glass Packaging Institute. Consumers are demanding more glass, because it is 100% recyclable and virtually inert - nothing transfers when you heat it. People are asking and companies are listening. Heinz is reintroducing its glass ketchup bottle this summer!

It makes me very happy to think that my kids will grow up with recycling as a norm.

If you do not currently practice recycling, I challenge you to spend one week and pay attention to every single thing you're about to throw in the trash. If it can be recycled, put it in a separate container. See what you have when you're done. It will blow your mind.

Racist Coffee

Adoption is built on trauma, pain and loss

The first time I heard the phrase "adoption is built on pain and loss," I literally lost my breath.

I was horrified.

HORRIFIED.

I was sitting in a training session at a lovely Baptist adoption agency, meeting requirements so my husband and I could adopt a child. I had heard so many sermons over the years comparing adoption to God adopting us into His family. My husband and I both had fathers who were adopted. It was this beautiful, glorious, self-sacrificing gift of life-long service to adopt a child.

"Adoption is built on pain and loss."

It was my first exposure to the underlying current of adoption ... the truth that my children and their first families would experience pain and process that pain throughout their lives. I was raised by an adoptee. I had many, many friends who were adopted or had adopted. I had friends who were first mothers and made adoption plans for their children. I thought I knew it all!

I was a very sincere idiot.

On that day, these lovely women at this lovely agency with lovely snacks ... broke us wide open. I'm not sure if I was more angry or terrified. Okay, I was more terrified. The anger was simply covering up the terror. I could no longer avoid putting myself in the position of my future children. I could no longer just NOT think about their first parents. My brain and heart had to go there and it HURT. Yet, I knew that it could not begin to touch their experiences.

We deal with the trauma and pain and loss of adoption regularly in our home. I was foolish enough to think that my child who experienced the least amount of trauma in their adoption would somehow be "easier." I basically categorized their grief. I made an assumption that I desperately wanted. Of COURSE I wanted it to be easy for them! I'm their mother! Yet, it's not.

On behalf of every adoptee and every first parent (not individual experiences, but everyone as a whole), I will always stop occasionally to remind us all about the loss in adoption. One easier grief process for one individual does not negate the very difficult journey of pain for hundreds of thousands of others. It is swept under the rug all too much. It is rarely a topic at adoption conferences. It deserves our time and attention.

Let's all educate ourselves more, and provide a safe space for those in our lives to work through the pain and loss of adoption, regardless of their place in the triad. Here are a few places to start:

"The Seven Core Issues of Adoption" presented by the Center for Adoption Support and Education.

"When I told the director that I thought adoption was trauma I about lost my job because we do not normally think that adoption at infancy is trauma but it is. It does not mean that it is a bad thing. I am an advocate for adoption. I’m an adoptive mother and I think it is a wonderful way to build a family and to create connections. I also think we do a disservice to our children by not acknowledging that adoption is trauma, simply because an infant and an older child has lost everything that is familiar to them." (Interview with Heather Forbes)

"So, no matter what way things happen, the kids who are at GLA (God's Littlest Angels in Haiti) already have gone through trauma. For some of them they have been through a lot more than others, but they have all experienced significant loss. It’s not painting a negative picture, just a realistic picture." (from TomVanderwell's post titled "Which is better? It’s not black and white – question from the blog ...")

"At yesterday's "Beyond Consequences" presentation by Heather Forbes a mom came forward to ask a question about some very difficult behaviors that were taking place in their home. Heather asked this mom if the children had experienced a lot of trauma before coming to her and the mom said, "No, not really...they were in a lovely orphanage."

We don't get it."

(from Coffee Catharsis' post "Adoption is Trauma")

"It isn’t like there is a giant balance inside adopted kids with pain and loss on one side and love and acceptance on the other. You can’t just pile on enough love to tip the balance away from the pain. That pain might be like a splinter that resurfaces through out their lives, sometimes hurting more sometimes hurting less. Just because you don’t want it to be there doesn’t mean it will go away." (from Amber's very raw and honest post, "On Adoptee Blogs")

"My daughter appears to have made some “peace” with loss, but deeper inspection tells me otherwise. She is moving into another phase of grieving—denial of her race and culture." (from Judy Miller's post, "Loss: The Well of Grief")

"Once the pain of adoption is acknowledged, it can be understood and the healing process can begin. You cannot heal something you do not admit exists. Acknowledging the pain can be as simple as allowing yourself to feel sad and not judging yourself for your feelings." (from Birth Psychology)

They are hearing your gluten woes

Last weekend, my son went with his dad and brother to GattiTown for his birthday.

It was so sweet to hear him talking to my husband during the planning, "Will you be able to eat anything there?" He was concerned that his dad would have to stare at a pizza buffet all day and have nothing safe to consume. So very thoughtful. Michael assured him that they also had a salad bar, and he would make it just fine.

On a whim, my husband actually asked someone if they had any gluten free information ... and they did. He was directed to some safe items on the salad bar. There were SEVERAL options. The people at GattiTown actually knew what he was talking about when he said "gluten free."

Times, they are a changin'!

Their corporate office is in serious discussions about how they could possibly have a gluten free buffet line. I'll give them this - that would be HARD, and it always costs more. But the fact that they are even DISCUSSING it? WOW.

GattiTown. Who knew?

To my gf friends out there, know that people are hearing the moans of your aching intestines. Even the crazy-loud, quarter-sucking, kid-fest pizza buffets!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Beth McHoul)

Words With Idiots

There is a whole world out there of unassuming people, who are either geniuses or big, giant cheaters.

I think there are plenty of people who play "Words With Friends" with me and think to themselves, "Oh, that's cute. She's really good at a lot of stuff, but when it comes to Scrabble, she's ... an idiot. How adorable."

My husband and I love to psycho-analyze the pecking order of this silly phone app.

There is a gal he has played against since he first downloaded the app. Just some stranger who started a random game. They have continued all this time, but he got into a pattern of beating her. He noticed that it took her longer and longer to play. Caused him to wonder if she was getting bored, and it wasn't feeling as even a match anymore. So, he basically threw a game - made no strategic moves. She won. He hoped it would boost her interest.

He goes on to tell me about our other friend who crushes him regularly. Like - crushes. The score is always 500 points to some very insignificant, barely-existent number. So, when my husband was having a really great game against this person, his confidence started to receive a nice boost. He won! He finally WON!

Yet, immediately the games when right back to this other person smashing him into powder ... 500 points to some very insignificant, barely-existent number. That's when it hit him.

They were doing the same thing to him. They had thrown their game to keep him interested.

Heh. Heh.

And the best part? The original gal? The one whose game my husband threw to keep her motivated? She has beat him every game since.

*note: if you click on the pic to grab my user name and start a game with me, do not be shocked that I am actually not joking: "Words With Idiots"*

I Would Walk 500 Miles

I am officially helping to raise scholarship funds for Orlando.

There were a lot of you, last year, who asked how you could help out trauma moms. This is a perfect opportunity. You could actually help get a momma there!

Between now and March, I plan to "Walk 500 Miles." I'm actually going to keep track of any walking/running/exercising I will do. You can scroll down to the bottom of my blog to watch my ticker.

You can support me in several ways.

Say, "Oh my cow - great work, Christine!" on a regular basis.

You can head over to Corey's blog, click on the "Chip In" widget on the side and drop a few dollars in the bucket. You can say that I sent you, but it's not necessary. It's all going to the same place, and its secondary purpose is simply to get us all off our butts. Just let my little exercise ticker encourage you to give.

Speaking of getting off your butt ... you can join the effort. Details are here. You don't have to walk or run. You just have to move in some way!

Normally, I would ask you to simply make a pledge and then pay your pledge after I complete the miles. However, I'm going to do my fundraiser differently. Look at my ticker. Be inspired. Go make a one-time gift THAT SECOND. You see, registration opens in about 2.5 weeks. I want there to be scholarship money waiting for at least two women once they apply. Maybe three. Why not FIVE?

Why not give $1? Really ... why not?

I am counting anything which requires endurance and exertion. YES, you can count restraining a kid. You BET you can count chasing them down the street when they run. Heck, I'm going in right now and adding credit for my three hour tattoo session yesterday.

Oh, that's right. Have I mentioned I'm two sessions in to a grand piece of body art that stretches from my shoulder to my elbow? I'll reveal when completely done. In the meantime ... I endured more pain AND IT COUNTS!

Now, go chip in!

What you might call a "big announcement"

Orlando is just 294 days away. That seems so very far, but really ... it's not. You see, registration opens in just 21 days.

Orlando is about building a web of support, in the flesh. It is about knowing you are not alone, making those connections and then returning home feeling empowered and supported. It is about having friends on FaceBook who truly know and understand the specifics of your home. It is about adding some numbers to speed dial when you are flailing. It is one more kick in the pants to keep moving you closer to your child even when you don't want to.

Some will make a return trip. Some will not. Some will skip years. Some will not come for the first time until 2013. We encourage it all. Only you can decide what you need and when you need it. We support what is best for you.

Yet, the reality is that (among those parenting trauma) Orlando is no longer a city in Florida. It is officially a "thing," and a grand "thing," at that. Registration will have a cap for the very first time. It is an experience created, planned and implemented solely by moms who are trudging through their own therapeutic parenting. Last year was an explosion. A good explosion, but it has to remain realistic and manageable.

Registration opens on June 1st. Because the goal is to make connections and build support, I am once again stepping out. I will be the house mom to an entirely new villa comprised of ONLY Orlando virgins.

YOU could come to Orlando for the very first time and be in my house with me! Okay, so that makes a few of you nervous. Really, it's not that bad. I do not actually force-feed anyone green smoothies, or make you wipe your bum with flannel instead of toilet paper. I will, however, expect you to lounge around, laugh and/or cry and allow your heart and soul to be fed to the brim. THAT is an order.

So, you are SUPER excited and you REALLY want to go and yet you also forgot to take the class on "How to Poop Cash." Here are some ideas:

Corey came up with a grand idea to raise money for scholarships. I am going to do this, and want you to join me. You can sign up to "Walk 500 Miles" or you can donate money toward my 500 miles. I will have that info up by the end of the week ... hopefully. In the meantime, read Corey's post to know what the heck I'm talking about.

Ask for help. Seriously. Read my post "Your Life is a Mission Trip" and be inspired to let others join you in this!

If Orlando fills up, there are still regional events popping up all over the states. I will be back in Chicago next April (and you can bring dudes to that one). Planning ahead makes it all the more possible.

Just 294 days!!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Okinawa Soba, used with permission)




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

It still hurts

There will be acting out today. However, it won't be horrific.

A definite marker in the healing of my kids was when they were finally able to save their behaviors until after a holiday or event (still not every time, but it's much more normal now).

It's something. It's a big something.

Friday I sat with one of my healing kids and brought up Mother's Day. "Are you feeling tempted to jack with it?" "Yes." "Would you like to talk about it? Do you have a plan to help you?"

Some of you just had your jaws hit the floor. YES, we can actually HAVE that kind of conversation and discussion now. Hope!

My child then talked about their temptations. Things they want to do. How difficult it is for them to let someone else have the attention. "And your plan?" They had a plan. They were already thinking of the homeschool gatherings the next week they don't want to miss out on. They were categorizing behaviors vs. fun for the next seven days.

Some more of you just passed out. YES, my child now has age appropriate cause-and-effect thinking. Hope!

BUT (because there's always a but), I'm still a mom and I'm still human. The conversation ended and I was crushed. I won't show this to my kid. I showed them delight and pride in the hard work they were doing. But I was crushed.

Not one word of "You are a great mom, and I want to show you that. You deserve a special day." The only motivation they could verbalize was avoiding consequences or self-sabotage. They're not there yet. Where they are is HUGE.

But still ... crushed. So, I just felt both. This child went to lunch with me and was great. This child worked their hurt little hiney off, and was only redirected once or twice, and it was super easy. This child was the first to say "Happy Mother's Day" and give me a hug.

It was a great Mother's Day. It was a testament to so much. Those things did make me very, very happy.

But dang it, I'm still human and I'm still a mom and I'm definitely a girl. With the healing, there is still grief. With the progress, there is still a reminder of what is missing. Give yourself permission to feel both. Don't let one negate the other. You have every right to celebrate the progress and you have every right to mourn the gaps that still exist.

The day we had yesterday? I never thought it would ever come. I will not feel guilty for also experiencing sadness in the midst of massive progress. I will feel both. I'm Mom. I can do whatever the heck I want on Mother's Day.



(photo by onthegogo, used with permission)

When Mother's Day is painful

To those who are missing their moms, those who have lost children, those who yearn to become a mom and to the first mothers whose arms still ache for the children they are not parenting.

It's a day of a million feelings, and I pray you find peace, goodness, comfort and love.

-Christine

"The Talk"

You think one thing will happen, then ...

I thought I had resolved the problem with our icemaker. I walked around, strutting. That was, until the water tube froze right back up, spewing water all over the already formed ice I did NOT see at the bottom of the freezer, and creating an even larger block of solid ice ... basically soldering our freezer rack into place. Good times.



Next weekend I get to teach myself how to replace a water inlet valve. Autodidacticism to the rescue!

Old shower head broke. Apparently "cheap" shower heads are now as high as $45. I know this because I purchased a $45 shower head, which is made of nothing but plastic and leaks from every possible orifice no matter WHAT you do. If I had already written a blog post on how much I despise returning things to the store, I would simply link to it right here. Instead, you can just imagine the flailing, and what it must look like for me to curse into a cheap, plastic shower head as though it is part victim, part microphone.

My tree guys starts work with his crew dang early. The first time they did a full-crew day he said, "We'll be there first thing in the morning." I assumed that meant around 8:00 am. Um, not 6:45 am. Makes absolute sense in the Texas heat. They have to do that. So, this time around I said, "You just get right to work. You do NOT need to knock on my door and tell me you're here. We love you guys, and trust you to get started without us." He has done that both days. In fact, this morning I walked out and he had quietly left some of his t-shirts for us sitting next to the porch. He can start work just as early as he wants.

My T also happens to say "Branch Manager" on the sleeve. I have big plans to drive around the county sportin' that sweetness with my chainsaw, offering to chop up dead limbs for people.

We needed to contact a neighbor for access to their property, making it easier to remove an ailing tree. You never know how this will go. In the country, it's a crap shoot. Yet, these people called me back last night and were so very kind. "Whatever is easiest!" Wow. Just - wow.

FYI - if you are running low on firewood next winter, we're your guys. We do not use our fireplace and we have ... a. lot.

Mother's Day is indeed this weekend. It is different in our house than it used to be.

See: Mother's Day Sucks and The Payback.

My healing kids will do okay. There will be some PTSD nerves, a lot of mumbling and incoherent speech. I will see more sweating than usual. However, they now are able to let someone have their day. For the most part. The kinds of behaviors we deal with now on a special day are NOTHING compared to the past. That's what I mean by letting them "have their day." There is no need to call in a Special Task Unit or Bomb Squad. Now, they save it for the day after.

I am going out to dinner with some other mothers tonight. Tomorrow we are all spending the day seeing good friends and enjoying some time on the river. By the time Sunday rolls around, my celebrating will be over. In fact, I encouraged my son to plan his birthday funday ON Mother's Day afternoon. He simply wants to go to Incredible Pizza with his dad and brother. What more quiet day to enjoy an arcade psycho-kid-loving place than on Mother's Day? It will be a ghost town. My celebrating will be done, and the girls and I will do our best to chill.

Let's hope Monday's blog title doesn't end up being the same as today's.

Stupid, stupid neuro funk

Have I mentioned how much I love getting older?

I know my body so much better than at any other point in my life. I am in tune when something is amiss. I can use mental imagery to soothe many of my headaches. I know the little things that work on certain days, and the other things that work for ailments on others.

It's a wonderful place to be, especially considering that age brings many more of these issues.

This also goes for my neurological quirks. I have vocal tics that, I'm pretty sure, even my husband has never noticed. I have some motor stuff. Minor, and again - hidden from the rest of the world.

Despite my healthier diet, simplified life and destressification of as many things as possible, my dear friends Depression and Anxiety still like to hang out on occasion.

The last three weeks Depression has been in the house. Or, should I say, in my body. I can identify and label it quickly these days. This particular round has been due to a cornucopia of things, most of which are completely beyond my control. Yet, how I respond and help my body recover is completely up to me.

Oh ... and the things which work best to do this are the very things depression works directly against.

I have to move.

I have to make a "To Do" list of at least three things and then bribe myself to do them.

After I fix the ice maker, I can finish watching that movie.
When my bedroom is decluttered, I can catch up on blogs.
Once the showerhead is replaced, I can read for awhile.

Depression tells me to sit. I feel heavy. I feel a dark weight upon me. It's not laziness. I don't want to do ANYTHING, not even mentally. You would think that is when I get my best writing done, but nope. It fogs my brain. My body is sluggish, but my mind is racing (NOT in a productive way). It is a very specific chemical shift. The best thing I can do is to move - not do another project that requires sitting. I must physically be moving to shift my energy and change my brain.

I'm a big fan of the timer. I set a time for 15 minutes. I do SOMETHING that requires a physical act for 15 minutes ... picking up, moving something, sorting, watering outside, pulling weeds, cleaning out the fridge ... whatever.

I may have to do this several times a day. Once may be just enough to snap me out of it and redirect my chemistry to work for good.

I have accomplished my "To Do" list for the day. Now, I'm going to go out back with the girls and hoop. I'm gonna' learn to shimmy that dang thing up to my neck, if it kills me. I will move, even if it's pathetic. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I will be able to write about something else!


UPDATED to say: I DID IT, DANG IT!!

Welcome to the jungle

Alright, fine. So, it's not a jungle, but we do have a lot of trees.

Sunday there was some sort of freakish wind thing that blew through the RV Park. One of our guests saw it. Said it was the biggest dirt devil he has ever seen, and that debris was flying everywhere for several minutes.

The bad news:

This wanna-be-tornado took out two healthy trees. They were several yards from one another and fell in two completely different directions. It was a freakish act of nature, for sure. Our gazebo was also completely smashed. No one was hurt, thank goodness. However, we sure loved that little gazebo, and the clean-up was exhausting.

The good news:

I got to see our tree guy! I LOVE OUR TREE GUY! Has a rockin' awesome hippie ponytail. Visits Haiti and does work there regularly. I love walking through the park and hearing him give his thoughts on how things are doing, and what he can do to maintain the health of what we have. He is passionate about his work, and he's good at it.

He also says things like, "If we're wavering on whether or not we need to open up some space, I'm always going to be on the side of the tree."



We have a burn ban in effect, with no end in sight. What this means is that he'll need to chip up the debris instead of burn it. Also means, I'm going to have me a mulch pile the size of Houston out behind my house. He swears I'll only want part of the mulch load. I keep telling him I want ALL of it. I will win, and while waiting to very slowly use it all up over the next year, the kids and I can play King of the Mountain!

He also wrote himself a note to bring me one of those t-shirts. Score!

LOVE my tree guy!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

Breastfeeding Rocks!

"I'm a BFAR mom -- we are breastfeeding after a breast reduction I had many years ago. It presents challenges, particularly low supply, but we worked through it with herbs and medicines to increase supply, as well as an at-breast supplementer. I eventually stopped using all that, and I thought my daughter, A, would stop nursing as well, but she still nurses for comfort. And we have, against all odds, entered the world of extended nursing."

(photo by Count Mockula)


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

Yet, we still despise one another

I wanted my first sentence of this post to be:

I hate the party system.

Yet, it's not just the party system. As humans, we migrate to those most like us. It is one of the ways we find normalcy and comfort. Yet, then there are those who play upon that and use it to their advantage in building their "side." Most people are easily drawn into this without even knowing it's happening.

I speak from experience. I battle it every single day. We all look for connection ... our tribe ... our peeps. It isn't just Republicans and Democrats. It is one football team against another. It is those who live in the country against those who live in town. It is the Drama Department against the Athletic Department. It is one side of the street against the other. It is the boys against the girls.

I did not expect the nation to be united upon hearing the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. I was not even united in my own heart. My feelings still shift and change. Yet, what truly grieved me last night (and continues to this morning) was to watch all of us fall right back into the same pattern.

Here is what I hate about divisiveness, and what I see in our party system. Here is why I want to say, "I hate the party system":

It functions best (in our favor) when we despise the other side. Period.

When we are working to choose a candidate for our party's ticket, each person is meticulously severed and destroyed. The best way to get people to vote for your person is to make sure they absolutely loathe the other person. It's fact. Just talking about strengths is not enough to win an election. We must destroy the other person.

Then, by the time a presidential election rolls around, we have to work night-and-day to change the reactions of those who now dry heave at the mention of the name on the party's ticket. We can't undo and erase our saturation of slander, so we use the same process to go after the person running for the other party. It is ugly. It is destructive. Many times it is outright false. It leaves us completely and utterly divided. This, then, trickles down to our decision making, our relationships and our public and private conversations. We have no more common ground.

Over the weekend, I posted a talk by Kathryn Shulz. She hurt me deeply with some of the things she said - because she shone a massive spotlight on how my natural instincts can be ... wrong ... hurtful. She talks about our belief that we are right, and how we then try to explain why others disagree with us. Shulz exposes (SPOTLIGHT) how most of use a "series of unfortunate assumptions" to do this:

1. The Ignorance Assumption. We assume they don't have access to the same information we do, but if they did, SURELY we would agree. When we then discover that, in fact, they DO have the same information, we move to the second assumption.

2. The Idiocy Assumption. We have to think that they have all the information they need, but must be too stupid to figure out what is right. Yet, sometimes this involves people we know and we can't ignore the fact that we believe some of these people actually have a reasonable degree of intelligence. So, we then move along to a third assumption to solidify our rightness.

3. The Evil Assumption. "They know they truth, and they are deliberately distorting it for their own malevolent purposes."

I don't know the solution. I don't actually believe there is one. We will always be human. I guess I am hoping, praying, wishing, yearning that more of us would work harder to fight against these natural tendencies. I'm willing to keep trying. I believe that would make a dent. I really do.

"This is a catastrophe. This attachment to our own rightness keeps us from preventing mistakes when we absolutely need to, and causes us to treat each other terribly." - Kathryn Shulz




(photo by B S K, used with permission)