One hundred miles

This week I did two kinda' fun things.

I knocked out 100 miles in the 500 mile fundraiser (feel free to go give a dollar to the scholarship fund in honor of my super sweaty effort).

I also completed the 30/30 Hooping Challenge. I put in 30 minutes a day for the 30 days of June. There were a few instances I almost didn't make it in time, but always seemed to sneak it in by midnight ... even if it meant hooping in my kitchen.

Funny, it started as something the girls all really wanted to do. That fizzled around the fifth day. Yet, at that point, I was bound and determined to finish the dang thing. I am right brained. In fact, some days I'm pretty sure I spent all of my in-utero time leaning to the right, and there's simply nothing over on that left side.

So, to complete things like this are good challenges. It pushes me in areas outside my natural tendencies. It stretches me.

The 30/30 is complete. I still have 400 more miles to go for the fundraiser. For now, though, I'm gonna' sit and have some dinner.

Survived vacation and lived to tell about it

Whoa Nelly, we did it!

Seven people. One minivan. Eleven days on the road. Twenty-five hundred miles.

Now, I realize that many of your are thinking, "I don't even parent trauma, and that sounds like a nightmare." I get it. I was unbelievably excited and yet, a wee bit terrified out of my knickers, as we prepped for this thing.

Here is how we were able to have a great time:

PREP

We kept things unbelievably simple. Everyone had a backpack with five changes of clothes, swimsuit and toiletries, etc. Everyone carried their water bottle. Everyone had one bag for whatever "car stuff" they wanted with them along the way for entertainment.

We looked at the map and discussed our drive. We talked about what it would be like to sleep in the car (everyone had a sleeping bag and a neck pillow, etc.). Everyone had their questions answered like, "What if we are driving all night and I have to pee?"

A good amount of time was spent online and on Facebook looking at the actual faces of people we knew we would see. This trip involved several new people, and that can be very stressful for some of my kids. We also discussed where we would be when we saw them and what we would be doing. Also, they knew how/when/where they could walk away or take a break from the activity if they needed to. We gave them that permission.

We talked through all the many tools of calming ourselves and getting regulated when feeling stressed. We did this as a whole and individually before we left. We played out a few scenarios to practice. We also told the kids that we expected them to have some rough patches on the trip. It would happen and it would not surprise us. But we also knew that they wanted to (and deserved to) do something this big and fun. Our goal was to "keep them in the game," so to speak.

DURING

With all the "different" and newness of the trip, we kept the basics as regular as possible. FOOD and SLEEP are not things we jack around with in our home. They are the cheapest and best sources of good health for any breathing human. Our typical flow of the day did not get too loose, and we made sure to avoid things that would cause us to stay up later or have to get up earlier than normal. Some might argue that going to bed at a reasonable hour while on vacation just isn't fun. I'll counter-argue that misery is not fun. Cranky is not fun. That goes for vacation ... or any random Tuesday.

I do not force veganism or vegetarianism on my family. Granted, I cook that way at home (but also in a way in which everyone enjoys - not just what I love most). When we are eating out, everyone can choose whatever they would like. So, we try to locate places that provide plenty of healthy options, even when one of my kids is piling on the beef. Of course, it IS vacation, so we absolutely have more ice cream and pepperoni than usual. Yet, we balance it. Again ... misery is not fun. Being camped on toilets half the day is not fun. But putting in the extra time and effort to locate some fun food options that do not trigger any of the food allergies or sensitivities in our family - that was dang fun and worth it.

We kept a close eye on the kids. If they seemed to be having a rough time, we watched and waited. Our goal was to let them handle their own dysregulation and have the opportunity to work through it themselves. Sometimes we might just catch their eye and wink, and that would be just enough to boost them into taking their own reins. When we did need to step in (and this is with all kids - not just the healing ones), we kept it as short as we could. We let them know that our goal was to help them take back power over those big feelings so they could feel better and keep having fun. We told them over and over that we wanted them to feel good and have a good time. We said, "Neener-neener" to the lies of shame within them, and we resisted those traditional parental urges of consequences for the sake of consequences. Sometimes just rearranging where everyone was sitting at a table was enough to take the tension down a notch and keep truckin'.

At one point, I took private moments to wrap my arm around some of my kids and say to them, "I know that I got cranky earlier. You did, indeed, drive me pretty nuts in that moment. I know I seemed pretty put out. However, I can't let one more second go by without telling you that your father and I see and know just how hard you are working. Even when we get frustrated with what is happening, we don't want you to ever forget that we KNOW this is not easy for you. We KNOW that you are not the same child you were three years ago. You are amazing, and you are doing more of the work on your own now. We know it, and we don't want you to ever forget that."

That was hard to do, because I was still feeling cranky at that point. Yet, again, our goal was to keep moving forward and to keep releasing them to themselves and all they've learned. That's where it is my job to make the extra effort, even when I'm having my own big feelings. If I can't do it, how can I ever expect them to do it?

"A sign of real character is one's ability to be kind and tolerant even when we are tired, hungry, or triggered." - Jeffrey Sumber

AFTER

There are a few things I'm having to let go. This trip was not without some "stuff." Trust me on that one. Because we shared such close space, there were a few things that came to light I thought were long gone. There were a few new little things that happened (and still are) that are very discouraging for me. Yet, they shouldn't be. Healing is a process, and those dips into the "old" are a part of it. They are not "bad" and they should not be discouraging. They FEEL discouraging to me, but that's my problem ... not theirs.

I am expecting several meltdowns this week because my kids worked their healing little arses off! Our vacation felt "normal" (whatever that is). We all knew the current that was flowing underneath it all, but for the first time that current did not own our children in the face of stress. When it bubbled up in places, they needed less assistance from us than they ever have. They are starting to own their own healing. Slow and steady. One day at a time.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(another photo by Ruxi, used with permission)



*if you, or a friend, would like to share a Magical Milk Pic of your own, send it to christinemoers at hotmail dot com -- be sure to include the name you want used, and any link you would like included*

Beautiful tension

There is this space between the ending of something very special and the beginning of the next something special.

It is a tension.

Many times I feel torn. I have a hard time taking a step away from [seeing a friend, having a unique experience, fill-in-the-blank], but life has taught me over and over again that there is yet another piece of wonderment in front of me if I'll just choose to open my eyes.

You don't want to move too fast, dissolving that delicious feeling of euphoria. Yet, you don't want to dwell too long, missing all things great in front of you.

This is basically just a schmancy way to say:

The end of vacation and leaving dear friends really sucks.

When you feel scared

"When you feel scared, hold someone's hand and look into their eyes. And when you feel brave, do the same thing." - Amy Poehler

Teach me

NOTE: this is one of those golden nuggets that fits all relationships, not just therapeutic parenting interactions ... this is how we can approach all children, all spouses and partners, all friends and acquaintances. Because, ultimately, it's what we all want in return.

A little phrase I have been using lately, when my kids seem to escalate (whether it is some sort of trauma trigger or just normal kid/sibling stuff) is to simply ask them to "teach me."

It's one way to be curious with their behavior, instead of escalating it or joining a battle.

Just this morning, in a very small way, we experienced this over breakfast. One kid got pretty tootie with another. As I tried to gently and playfully de-escalate the situation, I was met with defensiveness and anger. That, of course, caused ME to feel defensive and get that internal "Oh, no you didn't!" momma' feeling. This particular feeling can be a WONDERFUL red flag for us a parents and caregivers. It is an ideal way to train ourselves to recognize the feeling and STOP.

I stopped. I just said, "I thought I knew what was going on. It has come to my attention that, perhaps, I don't have a clue. Teach me."

Then, I sit and listen. At this point in healing, I can now be more funny and sarcastic than I have been able to be in the past. Yet, when they are getting to the heart of things or talking about something that is stressing them out ... I stay very gentle. I am an invited guest into that place in their heart and I need to respect it. I listen. I might say, "I'm still not totally clear on that part. Can you help me understand better?"

When they are done talking, you can simply say, "Hey, thanks. I didn't know all of that. I appreciate you telling me. Is there anything I can do for you?" End of conversation.

Sure, part of what they say I will want to correct. I'm human, but I have a choice. I do everything in my power not to. My voice, and my countenance and my open, loving questions can bring them safety. I am the invited guest to this intimate place. If I come in with a frat party, I will not be invited back.

Today was a tiny three-minute interaction. Just listening and allowing my children to teach me. Hearing their words and their heart. Giving them permission to help me understand them, regardless of what I THINK is truly going on. Giving them a voice.

Sure enough, today there had been a misunderstanding and a miscommunication about something very minor. Yet, that something minor was a big deal to my child. Heard. Corrected. Loved. Move on.

So far, so good

We are enjoying our trip.

Our children are big wads of exuberance, nervousness, sadness (leaving their best friends yesterday) and excitement. There have been no major blow ups. Everyone is breathing deeply when they are feeling anxious, but mainly we are just leaving them be and giving some loving hugs and winks when we hear the crankies taking over.

That also works well for Mom and Dad.

If there are meltdowns when we return home, oh well. They are truly doing amazing right now and having a good time. That's exactly what they want, and of course - what we want for them. The hotel we are in now is full of families, so they make approximately 30 new friends every time we visit the pool. It's kid heaven, and has been a positive experience for them instead of over-stimulating.

Reports from our park/house sitter say our cats are doing well and there is actually water falling from the sky in Texas. Who knew?

Wisconsin with our favorite family was quick but fabulous, as always. Now we are tearing it up in Illinois. Ya' know, cause we're wild and crazy like that.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by evaguein, used with permission)

Killing it to Wisconsin

Sometime after lunch on Saturday, seven people piled into a minivan in south Texas and started driving north.

Approximately 24 hours and 1,300 miles later, they were here:



Nothing that some neck pillows, audio books, podcasts and two very determined adults can't handle.

We drove into the arms of our dearest friends on the planet. Our time with them is short, but we are soaking it up as best we can (I'm currently on a wifi date with Alicia at Culver's). So fun to talk and surf, and know the kids are either swimming or on a playground, or swimming again, or hooping, or on the other playground!

Our husbands are talking or ... whatever it is that husbands do when they get together. Scratching?

Wednesday we head to Illinois, where we get to chill for five nights. There will be several surprises for the kids. Saturday we get to see old and new friends at the park.

Right now the husband and I are talking about doing the return trip in one fell swoop again. We'll see where we land this time next week. At this point, we still feel like super heroes.

Fitting in is way overrated

"Fitting in is way overrated ... Just be who you are. If you are surrounding yourself with the right people, they will not only get it - they will appreciate it."

Don't treat your heart like an action figure

"Try to keep your mind open to possibilities and your mouth closed on matters that you don't know about. Limit your always' and your never's. Continue to share your heart with people, even if it's been broken. Don't treat your heart like an action figure, wrapped in plastic and never used." - Amy Poehler











(photo by Deon Staffelbach, used with permission)

Doing the never done

There is something amazing about doing something you have never done before.

You receive an adrenaline rush as well as a deep, inner confidence beyond what already existed within you.

Sometimes it is a painful process. Sometimes it just takes a level of consistency which requires extra effort. But always - every time - it feels good.

I have been sweetly nudging (read: bugged, cajoled, harassed, cajoled some more, nag, nag, nag ...) my husband to give the Couch to 5K program a try. It is a slow-and-steady approach that landed me at a 5K last year. The same people who created that program are the ones who developed Bridge to 10K - a program which helped me meet that goal this spring.

"I hate running."

"Me too, but this thing actually made me like it."

"But ... I hate running."

*yet another lift of my eyebrows in his direction*

He finally gave it a try. I think he did it just so I would stop bugging him. However, once he got going, he understood. It could get you to a place of actually "doing the never done." Last night, after having only done his longest run of 20 minutes, he decided to join me and his sister for a 5K race. He not only completed it, but had to slow down to stay with me!

SIDE NOTE: this was one of those "fun" runs in Austin ... at 8:00 pm at night ... in June ... and come to find out, it WAS still 100 degrees outside. What that means for me is feeling like I'm running while carrying bricks.

The picture above makes me very happy. My husband (age 43) after completing his very first 5K, standing next to his wife (age 38) who has only been running a year and reached a 10K, standing next to his sister who ran her very first half marathon last year before the age of 50.

Doing the never done before. Whatever it is for you, I highly suggest it. Who says you can't? Poo on them!








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I am doing just fine on this thing. I am going to make the Top 25, and am thrilled to be able to reach out to even more adoptive parents who are looking for resources. Seriously. No need to vote for me, but please check out all of the other amazing blogs on there. Who has helped you? Whose knowledge and encouragement has been invaluable to you? Give them your vote! You can vote for as many people as you want, once a day, until June 21st:

Green smoothies for whiney babies

I don't know about where you are, but it is a stinkin' hot summer down here in the bottom half of Texas. We use window units in the double wide. Hang curtains in doorways so we only cool certain areas of the house throughout the day. Trying to be as economical as we can.

And it's completely sucky interesting to walk into the living room at 7:00 am to discover it's already 86 degrees in there. Such is life in this part of the world.

So, I cook very, very little. We focus on meals that are fresh, light and easy (and hopefully involving nothing that requires heat). One of our all-time favorites are green smoothies. At which point, several of you roll your eyes and say, "OMG, there she goes again, friggin freaky hippie freakity-freak!"

Come on, now. Don't you remember - I don't eat things that taste like crap! And green smoothies don't taste like crap. I mean, I'm sure you could make one that does, but why would you?

And green smoothies do, in fact, fill you up. It is such a mental thing with people that something in a glass is a "drink," and therefore cannot count as a meal. But if you threw that hamburger and fries into the blender? It would fill up a glass. We have these things for dinner much like we would have them for breakfast. I usually make two batches which allows some to have a second glass, if they want.

I thought I'd give you a few ideas to ease you into the land of green smoothie goodness. "Green Smoothies for Whiney Babies," if you will.

Strawberry Banana Green Smoothie

1 can pineapple (or the equivivolent of fresh)
2 bananas
1-2 cups of frozen strawberries (frozen strawberries don't really sink into a cup)
1 handful of spinach leaves or kale
Vanilla almond milk to taste (I usually fill it up about halfway, then you can add more if you want it thinner)

Throw it all in a blender. Blend the holy hey-diddle out of it. Several minutes, in a regular blender. Get it as smooth as possible. The reason I posted this recipe first is because it turns purple - NOT green. See the picture above? That's the pinkish color in the middle. I made another batch without the strawberries, and two big handfuls of spinach. That is the green part you see. My kids love the contrasting colors.

I tend to start most of my smoothies with pineapple. It's a great base, and is much milder than you'd think. It adds the perfect amount of sweetness, which I usually compliment with a nut milk of some sort. We almost always have bananas, too, as they thicken the smoothie and sweeten it. Plus - potassium! This week I made up this one:

Reese's Green Smoothie

1 can worth of pineapple
2 bananas
1/2 bar of 100% cocao (find it in the baking aisle - get the highest percentage bar they have)
1/2 - 1 cup of almond butter (or peanut butter)
1-2 handfuls of spinach leaves or kale
vanilla almond milk to about the halfway point or higher

Again - blend, blend, blend. If you feel like it is too thick for your taste, another fun trick is to go ahead and pour it halfway into a glass and then fill it up the rest of the way with a favorite nut milk (or soy). You can then use a straw to mix it up in the glass if you wish. It's almost the same concept as a "fruit on the bottom" yogurt. It's just makes it more fun and interesting.

If the idea of having a green in your smoothie freaks you out, then take baby steps. One handful. Do it and try it. Do you already have a favorite smoothie recipe that you make? Throw in a handful of kale (the leafy part - pull it off of the stems, as those can get bitter). The smoothies I make are crazy delicious and we have yet to have kids not like the taste. Yet, you can ease your way into the appearance. Don't let the recipes on the green smoothie sites freak you out. BABY STEPS.

Come on, whiney baby! Just one. This summer do at least ONE green smoothie. I double dog dare you!

Open adoption is a gift

As unusual as it may be, our children are able to have fully open adoptions. I say "unusual" because two of my children were born in another country, adopted and brought to the United States and then that adoption was dissolved. After all of those events, it took a lot of effort to locate their first family (and someone willing to help us maintain that contact).

One of our children was born not terribly far from us, and she joined our family when she was seven months old. Her mother was prepared to make an adoption plan before her birth, but ran into some obstacles. She wanted a fully open adoption. Our agency only provided and trained adoptive parents for such. Yet, at the time, they had no waiting families who were open to a child of color.

Yeah. It still sucks the breath right out of me to remember hearing those words.

So, our agency told her that they were fully committed to helping her locate a family who would only participate in an open adoption. Until that happened, they were able to provide an amazing foster care situation (seriously, while foster care is never ideal, this family is truly a jewel). Her other option would be to go to another agency that might provide "levels of openness" but her child could be placed with a family at birth.

After all of the stories I have now heard about mothers being promised things before birth, only to have them change down the road, I am so very thankful that J not only made the choice she did but that it was even available to her! Our agency worked tirelessly to locate several families, and despite the fact that it had been many months, J ... as her child's mother ... selected who would parent her daughter. She was treated with every ounce of respect she deserved.

Fast forward almost a decade, to this sweet child who is at an age where they are processing their losses through adoption. Feeling so many things. Acting out to try to communicate what is going on. In those moments, on the hardest of days ... she has us both.

She can pick up the phone and call her very first mother. She can ask her anything. She can be mad at her and she can love her. She can sit in the lap of her adoptive mother while talking, or walk as far away from me as possible.

J and I also talk about how we are each trying to help her. We work together, and brainstorm how we can better help minimize any competitive feelings of loyalty. Both of us have breaking hearts for this child we love so much, yet we also have such love and respect for one another. I want to be everything to my child, but I'm not. I never will be. Many times in the last year and a half, I have had to step back and allow my child to get what she needs from the woman who loved her first. I also know that when I do that, I'm providing J with healing for her heart. It IS her place. It IS her role in our daughter's life.

I certainly had years of jealousy issues, knowing how my child would feel about their first mother and how that made ME feel as a mother. Yet, when I allowed myself to watch my daughter love me, I had to .... well, I had to grow up. She loves me. I am her mother. But she does have another mother. A woman who, even if we didn't have such positive circumstances and relationship, she would STILL have a primal connection with deep within her soul. When I acknowledge that relationship. When I say the words. When I say, "We both love you. You are our daughter," I cannot explain the amount of relief that comes over her face. It's immediate. She needs to know her very first mother loves her, and that her adoption was not because of anything she did. She needs J to be much more than just someone who "gave birth to you." She needs to know they have a connection. She needs to feel valued by her, as she is valued by me.

Every open adoption looks different. They can't all be like this. They AREN'T all like this in our home. Yet, we never stop striving for each of them being as healthy and accessible as possible. Right now, in our home and even amongst the tears and pain ...

Open adoption is a gift.





(photo by Billy Alexander, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by My House Smells Like Vanilla, used with permission)

The tatt and the man

So, about this tattoo I'm getting.

Three sessions in, but more work to do. Olivia is beyond amazing at her work. I asked her to create a piece with one woman who reflected all the mothers in the lives of my children. Therefore, it was very important that she lean Haitian/African. Olivia is biracial and understood exactly what I was saying. I was able to help her understand just how very important their first mothers are to them - vital. She also helped me understand how tricky it can be to go very dark with skin tone and hair yet still translate and maintain detail on flesh.

An afro cannot be done and keep detail. It would end up just a solid black blob of hair. So, she has done amazing things to keep this art intricate and gorgeous, while still wanting all of my children to feel reflected in this art. What that meant on Friday was several hours of layering ... and layering ... and layering the shading. And she did it. She did an AMAZING job.

The next session will include more color. Hopefully, at that point, I can post a picture in full. At this point, she requests that I not post its entirety in a large forum. It is her art, and she would like it to be completed before it shows up in a Google search. I understand and respect her for that. So, at least another month. Just know that her work is worth it.

I guess I could say that sitting under needles was how I started my summer vacation. This is followed by getting the boys sent off to camp, and my husband heading out of town for a conference on curriculum he will be teaching. These are always strange times of the year, because we have fewer people in the house for long periods. Of course, it is always weird to have my husband gone.

I know we are very lucky and I know some of you have husbands that have to be gone a lot, or travel full time or AT WAR, for Pete's sake. Michael has the luxury of being around all the time. He teaches school, so gets to enjoy long holidays. He is home every night. Sometimes we get to meet him for lunch.

I know it can be a struggle for some couples to spend a lot of intensive time together. Yet we maintain our home and run the park together, and really enjoy it. We communicate beautifully and stay on the same page with things. We are good at compromising when we disagree. We balance logical adult conversation with huge amounts of sarcasm and jabs. So, it's just ... weird, when he's not here. Don't get me wrong - we enjoy the breaks as much as the next guy.

Still ... just weird.

I feel happy of myself!

If this little guy doesn't encourage you ... you're dead inside.

Whatever you are trying to tackle, whether it's riding a bike or taking better care of yourself or being therapeutic ...

"Everybody, I know you can believe in yourself!"

"You just keep practicing! You will get the hang of it, I know it!"

"And then you can get better and better at it if you do it!"

"Thumbs up, everybody, for rock and roll!"

Words. to. live. by.

Knowledge, discipline, generosity.

"Knowledge, discipline, generosity.

If you pursue those with all the determination you possess, one day before too long, without you even knowing it, the chance to realize your most spectacular dreams will come gently tap you on the shoulder and whisper... let's go. And you'll be ready."

Chris Anderson, from his address at the commencement of the Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2011.

Not your mamma's hoola hoop

(this is me, attempting a self portrait while hooping)



Since I have taken the 30/30 challenge (hoop for 30 minutes a day, all 30 days of June), I have received approximately 278 questions about hooping.

I am not an expert. In fact, I'm sure I fit more into the category of "hooping moron." My girls - they own it. They take that darn circle and make things happen without even thinking about it. I feel like I'm just keeping up. It is something they love, and so it is something we can do together. Win.

What I am hearing from most people is, "My kid has a hoola hoop, but I just can't do it. I can't!"

I'm gonna' guess that hoop was bought down at the drug store. It is probably the perfect size for a 4-year-old. You, are probably NOT a 4-year-old. You need a hoop that fits your body. You could buy one, sure. However, why not make one? Due to the amount of tubing you usually have to buy, you could make at least 8-10 of them and share!

Here are some great links to get you started:

The first go-to site for most people is Jason Strauss's instructions (we can argue another day on whether or not that should have just been an apostrophe, or an apostrophe-s).

If you are more visual, Alaska's video will be right up your alley.



My kids decorate their hoops with either colorful electrical tape (my personal favorite) or funky duct tape. The reason these are the most commonly used in our home is because they can be purchased almost anywhere. Another option is to spend a little more. The most highly recommended tape site is Identi-Tape.

At that point, the options are endless. However, I find that straight waist hooping is great exercise, tightening my core as well as improving my coordination. It is also VERY therapeutic, for my kids and myself. Lisa pointed out to me, it is like the wet dog trauma shake! I find it to be as fun and invigorating, or as peaceful and relaxing as I choose for it to be.

You can't screw it up. Even crappy hooping is good hooping. Yet, I wouldn't argue if you wanted to video your crappy good hooping and share.

Hold your nose, if you must

We all have defaults. Things we do without thinking. They pop right out of us in times of big emotions. Our defaults are EASY!

My defaults are the exact opposite of therapeutic parenting. Heck, they're the opposite of "kind," "compassionate," "thoughtful" and "patient" on many days. Stopping myself from my default is hard. I have come to realize that I have to work on myself and why these are my defaults so that I can begin stopping myself.

I also have to grieve the fact that, no matter how many years I practice this process, it will always be a struggle and may always require effort. I will always find myself getting lax and slipping back into my defaults. That sucks. I want to get good at it and have it be easy. I want to not have to think about it so much. I don't want it to be hard any more.

Yesterday I was able to talk to another mom and encourage her. I gave her some practical tips and I also bitched and moaned with her, because THIS STUFF IS HARD. I listened to all of the many things that some of you repeated back to me yesterday. I heard my words. I dealt with myself, and the things inside of me which make it so easy to be sucked into the vortex of my defaults.

Today, I woke up again to a little heart in a lot of pain. GUNS BLAZING. Straight out of the shoot. I chose to be playful.

I did not want to be playful. I did not want to smile. I wanted to make this kid cut the crap and stop beating me up just because I happen to be present. I wanted to be authoritarian and militant. I did not want to admit that I also have a responsibility in creating a safe space for their pain, and when I refuse to do it I make it worse.

I jumped in.

I jumped smack in there, and CHOSE to be playful, even though it went against every single fiber of my being today. I just did it. Look at the picture above. I hate that picture. It is 3rd grade Christine in a grown up body. The little girl who was terrified of water and wore a nose plug through grade school ... check out her default. It does not matter that I no longer need to hold my nose. I didn't even think about it. I held my nose (and my husband captured it on film - lovely).

It is my default.

But I jumped in, anyway. That old default did not keep me from doing something I wanted to do. I grabbed that rope swing. I ran forward. I let go and did not miss out on the fun. Part of my default slipped in there, but it didn't hold me back.

Jump in today. Make the choice to do what you need to do for the sake of your child. Hold your nose, if you must. You may find yourself exactly where I did - reconnected with my child.

Well, that and a wedgie up to your eyeballs.

Could someone please tell me to shut up?

Take a love for words, enough neurological funk to create excessive talking when I'm excited/nervous/pissed off, the ability to think on my feet, and add in a child who is taking out their pain on me.

What do you get?

You get what I am currently calling "Wednesday morning."

I need to shut it up. I'm talking WAY too much. I'm getting WAY too snippy. I'm ENGAGING.

It's almost comical (almost) how yesterday I was amazingly therapeutic with a completely different child after this happened:



Was thinking on my feet. Did not allow them to pull me into the battle, and used humor to diffuse the situation. There were at least two other very deliberate attempts after the door thing, to try to create negative attention. I was a rock star. One of them crossed a big line that definitely sent my insides into freak out mode, but I talked myself down.

This morning? What the heck? I have got to switch things around with this other child. I have to. I know it. I'm having a hard time letting go of the proverbial lines I have drawn in the sand that this kid is now dancing around. The lines aren't important. Helping them with their pain is important. I know that. I know it. Really, I do.

So, someone needs to tell me to shut up, and then please throw some of my own advice back at me. Oh, and be funny - because I always make you laugh when I'm telling you something you hate.

Thank you, in advance.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by Crystal Verbeke, used with permission)



You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to christinemoers at hotmail dot com.

Get off your ever-lovin' butt

“The most effective way of improving your mind-set is to simply get off your butt.” – Joan Borysenko

Yeah, I know. That kinda' pisses me off, too.

Cause it's true.

Of course, you hate me for bringing it up again. Yet, I have something new to add to the conversation. So, don't run off just yet.

I have been more active this year than I have in a long time. It makes a huge difference. I have NOT wanted to be active again this year just as much as every other year of my life. I recently joined several other women in a fundraiser (note to YOU: there is still room for more), which requires me to move my butt regularly. This morning, I knew I needed to get up and run. The alarm went off. In my situation, if I did not get up THAT SECOND it would be too hot to run by the time I did. I DID NOT WANT TO GET UP. IT SOUNDED BORING AND MISERABLE.

However, I joined in with a group of ladies who now have instant access to me on a little FaceBook group. They would notice if I did nothing for a week. They would never say anything negative, but I would KNOW that they know.

So, I forced my eyes open and I sat up. I cussed. I threw on my clothes. I grumbled some more. Now, here I sit, two miles and a shower later. I'm so happy I did. I feel better. My mind is clear(er). I have accomplished several other things. Not to mention, I feel better about myself and the day in front of me!

Ah, there you have it.

“The most effective way of improving your mind-set is to simply get off your butt.” – Joan Borysenko

I would add to that, the most effective way to get off your butt is to join with another person ... or two ... or seventeen ... whose very presence in your life will keep you moving.

As moms (all moms, not just mothers of trauma), we have some extremely high rates of depression and anxiety. We put undo pressure on ourselves outside of our homes, which just compounds all that we are feeling inside those doors. We never stop, but feel like we never get anything done. And at the end of the day, most of us look into the mirror and then crawl into bed not liking ourselves.

BOO!

Get up. Get your hot little butt up and do something. Anything. Move. Walk. Find the sunshine. No one said you have to run (good LORD, that's crazy talk, and I should know - I ran this morning!). Join the fundraiser or find a friend and say, "I need to move. Will you move with me?"

Because you are amazing, and you have lost yourself in your life. Fight your way back out of it. YOU ARE WORTH IT!



This is me getting in my 30 minutes a day of hooping ... with my neighbors, the Longhorns.

Dear Illinois-ish people

The Moers family is packing up and road trippin' it up north in just a few weeks. By golly, if we're gonna' hike all that way, I would like to see as many people as I can who live anywhere in that general vicinity.

And that's what we plan to do. We are going to show up at a park just north of Chicago, and you can come join us. It's VERY fancy and VERY organized. I might even wear shoes.

I'll teach you how to make your own deodorant. Or recon a t-shirt into a three-piece suit. Or say "ya'll."




There is more info here. To RSVP on this site, send me your email and I'll add you to the list: christinemoers at hotmail dot com. Please put "Park Day" as your email subject, in case your message lands in my junk mail folder.

If you can make it out, great. If you can't ... well, you suck.

Okay not really. yes, really

The pain is so primal

This is a tough quote to swallow. Many people want to scream that we shouldn't let certain things define us. Yet, we have to allow adoptees to speak the truth of EXACTLY how they feel - each of them, individually. They deserve that freedom so they can then find healing. We cannot discredit or try to redefine their truth. We hurt them more when we do that.

Sadly, the triad tends to lean in favor of adoptive parents. Lest we forget, Susie commented below, "This is not only about the adoptee, I feel it as a mother. The pain from the loss of my son IS a part of me, not just something that happened to me. The pain is primal ~ I gave my very own son, a piece of my heart and soul, away..."

It may be very, very difficult, but see if you can give yourself permission to just read this ... hear it ... accept it.

"We must be careful not to sanitize, sentimentalize, or even glamorize the pain of adoption; it really is miserable stuff, and it is intensely personal. It is interior. The pain of adoption is not something that happens to a person; it is the person. Because the pain is so primal, it is virtually impossible to describe." - James Gritter, from The Spirit of Open Adoption.

(photo by ivanmarn, used with permission)

Consumer ignorance

(picture at left would be Christine when she was an ignorant consumer - picture at right when she was much less with the ignorance ... or maybe she was just plain idiotic for making Ninfa's green sauce a food group)





Did I ever tell you I was a Radio/Television major in college?

I wanted my emphasis to be PR, but that meant changing to a completely different (updated) catalog, which would also mean I would be required to take college algebra instead of pre-algebra. Thus, my decision was made: stick with R/TV and fill my electives with PR courses.

What it really meant was: do whatever it takes to avoid college algebra.

This right-brained gal ain't no dummy.

So, I have completed quite a bit of coursework in subjects like advertising and marketing. I came out of that experience knowing one thing for sure ...

Most people can be duped into spending money.

I get very excited to see more organic and vegan choices at my local supermarket. Yet that doesn't change the fact that big business is now trying to capitalize upon the lack of understanding in the general public. See how nice I was right there? I avoided using the word "ignorance." Remember, you didn't hear me say it. It came from this lady -

“Fast-food chains hope to cash in on consumer ignorance with labels like ‘fat-free’ and ‘low-calorie.’ But some of these foods contain more sugar, sodium, or fat than anyone should eat in an entire day, and eating them can increase your risk for obesity, heart disease, cancer, and diabetes.” - Susan Levin, M.S., R.D., the nutrition education director for the Physician's Committee for Responsible Medicine

Would you give your kids five Twinkies in one sitting? No, but you might buy them a Strawberry Smoothie at Sonic (which has just as much sugar as five Twinkies).

I have had Wendy's Baja Salad, and liked it. Now I know why - it has more sodium than most adults should consume in an entire day. Okay, that and the same amount of fat you would get from 16 McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets.

I know, right?

If the sugar and salt and fat don't get you, go for KFC's Kentucky Grilled Chicken. It contains PhIP, a chemical classified as a carcinogen by the federal government.

They play on consumer ignorance. Now, I don't think they're out to make us fat or purposefully give us cancer. I think they are out to make us love their food and THINK it's not as unhealthy as other menu items. I think they are out to produce items people enjoy eating, in the cheapest and fastest way possible. Consumers desperately want to fulfill their food cravings AND be healthier. Businesses use catch phrases, and colorful advertisements. They utilize young, skinny, glowing people in their commercials and print ads. People are duped. They can't have their proverbial cake and eat it, too. But they think they can.

My family splurges occasionally. We eat crap occasionally. Yet, we also know how quickly we can fall back into the pattern of the "occasionally" turning into the "new norm." My kids tend to be the ones to remind me to check labels and think through a choice first before ordering. They understand that just because cheese enchiladas are vegetarian, doesn't mean they are healthy. They are learning balance, and hold me accountable.

Sadly, they have also had to learn that advertisers have one goal: prey upon your fears, passions and desires so that you will spend more money on their products.

Period.

Don't be a consumer ignoramus.

Well, heck, I guess you don't want to be any kind of ignoramus, but you could at least start with the consumer part.

I still cry when he dies

There are certain things about me I do not understand.

I cannot stand to read most books twice.

I cannot stand to watch most movies twice.

I can count on two hands the books and movies that ever get a second go-round with me.

I can count on one hand the movies I choose to own.

Yet ...

I have seen every episode of Friends approximately 1200 times.

And Seinfeld.

When cleaning out things in preparation for our last move, I found one of the few television shows I had recorded on a VHS tape and kept. And it was very hard to part with.

There was piece of brown packing tape across it, and scrawled in my craptastic handwriting it simply said, "ThirtySomething."

It was the episode when Gary dies.

Recently, ThirtySomething made it to instant view on Netflix. I am slowly working my way through every series. However, the very first thing I did was locate that particular episode.

I watched it first.

And I cried. Hard.

Most things I can't stand to watch twice, because I cannot enjoy the story. I know what is going to happen, and it does not evoke emotion in me. It's almost painful to sit through it again. For whatever reasons, very few pieces of media can do that for me.

I kept that VHS tape because there have been times throughout my life when I craved that episode. I wanted the gut-wrenching sob. I wanted to feel the pain and see the loss in the characters. I wanted to ponder the stark contrast between great news being celebrated at one hospital while life had ended at another. I feel it every time I watch it.

When you put all of the facts in this post together, I don't know what the hey-diddle it means. Yet, I think I make really great fodder for someone to psychoanalyze.

In the meantime, I'm gonna get back to my marathon of scrunchies, butterfly clips and bulky sweaters over button-down shirts.

Or maybe I'll just stay here and stare at that picture of Peter Horton a few more minutes. *sigh*




(photo credit: Dallas Observer Blogs)

Nudging myself along the way

Next month I turn 39.

Which is one year from 40.

Which is one of those times in your life when you start to look at your whole life and wonder if you are happy with what you've done.



And I am.



I have been brave. I have been peaceful. I have been vulnerable. I have been careful. I have been playful. I have been ridiculous. I have been confident. I have been thoughtful. I have been daring. I have been content. I have been loving. I have been patient. I have been selfish. I have been terrified. I have been thrilled. I have been frustrated. I have been open. I have been weak. I have been free.

I also have every intent of continuing to do the very same things.

Join me, please.