welcome to my brain . net

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 22 May 2012 09:59:00 +0000

"My blue-eyed wonder."

(photo by Lara Eastburn of Hooposophy and SuperHooper.org; used with permission)

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Remember that thing you forgot?

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 17 May 2012 15:34:00 +0000

Still homeschooling five kids.

Still making it my goal to teach my kids where and how to find answers and teach themselves.

Still avoiding memorization like the plague. Unless they want to. And they do. Weird stuff.

Memorization is great for your brain. I was forced to memorize a bunch of crap. Out of all said crap that was shoved into my head, I can only recall:

The Preamble to the Constitution
A little rhyme of the 22 linking verbs
The first four lines of "The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales"
The first stanza of "The Road Not Taken"

Yet I can still sing along with this:

Biology? I remember how the pig smelled when we dissected it.

I still kill at typing, and remember my shorthand.

Math? I use my life skills. Beyond that - nope. Unless there is something specific I need for a project. Yet, I don't remember the memorized math. I have to look it up and reteach myself.

History? I have bits and pieces.

Geography? I could draw you a map of my teacher's scars from all of his motorcycle accidents. I think we may have talked about North America at some point. I don't recall, specifically.

Anywho, why am I rambling on and on about crap I don't remember? It's your friendly reminder that it can be quite a waste. The goal in my house is autodidacticism. If you can find the answers yourself, you can teach or relearn those answers.

If you can do that, you can do anything.

If it involves linking verbs, great!

(Warning: the following video contains language that some people may find inappropriate. Feel free to google the psychology behind such offenses, and why certain words are considered "cursing" while others are plain, ordinary "words." Or you could look up how to make your own video. Or how to write music. Or how tie a neck tie!)

CollegeHumor’s Favorite Funny Videos

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 15 May 2012 09:13:00 +0000

Source: flickr.com via Rita on Pinterest

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

What's in a name?

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Fri, 11 May 2012 21:04:00 +0000

(photo by elvis santana, used with permission)

Today I read something that broke my heart. Someone was recapping a conversation they had with a former customer. That customer is an immigrant and ... well, let's just say their name is not something like "Mary" or "Kelsie." This person's boss, however, says he is having difficulty remembering her name and makes her wear a name tag that reads "Sally."

Really.

I got to this point in writing today's post and have stared at it for hours. Each time I come back to it, my heart pounds. It hits me very close to home, and I go back and forth between feeling very defensive and also having empathy and wanting people to listen, hear and learn. Maybe change.

I have a child with a name that is not common in America.

This child has taken on a nickname to avoid the common butchering of their name.

Their name.

The name that was chosen by their first parents. Chosen for them. In another country. Amongst pain and poverty and hardship, they were celebrated and given a special place in this world. Just like I was. Just like you were.

They miss their country. They miss their family. They take great pride in their heritage. They struggle in their heart often with the difficult decisions which were made for them. One of the beautiful things they have always carried with them is ... their name.

That name encompasses things that are important to them. People who are important to them. Places that are important to them.

It takes a minute to learn it and understand exactly how to pronounce it. It may take a little practice before it's memorized. The people who do that for my child are saying, "You are worth that bit of time. You are worth it to me, so that every single time I address you, for as long as I know you, I will honor all of you. I want to do that."

That's huge. And it's also rare. Very rare.

I wanted to throw out a challenge.

Some feel angry when they are confronted with things that are foreign. They feel put-out and annoyed. They are upset that their lives have been inconvenienced or that extra is being asked of them to function around someone who does not fit their norm. If that's you, I would ask you to just sit with that for a minute. Feel the anger and frustration. Feel it and then try something new.

Find someone who has a name you either butcher or politely avoid. Very plainly state to them, "I'm afraid I might be saying your name incorrectly. Could you teach me the proper pronunciation so I know I have it right?" And then take the time to learn. And if you have to ask them to repeat it more than twice, and you start to feel embarrassed because you're just not getting it, I would ask you to not pretend you got it and move along. Instead, say, "This is important to me, so I'm going to keep working on it until I get it."

And do that. Keep working on it until you get it. Then call that person by their given name. Honor them and their history each and every time you see them. Practice it, and see what happens.

It is quite likely they have just as much difficulty with American names and have been giving you the same courtesy all along.

Oh right. Mother's Day.

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 10 May 2012 14:14:00 +0000

We can do this.

You're not alone.

It's not fair to any of us. It's hard for everyone in this walk.

Let's try to remember that.

Allow space for that.

Permission to like yourself

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 09 May 2012 09:28:00 +0000

This is true when I read it. Is it true for you? In a rare event, I am not allowing comments. I am not adding a picture. I want you to picture you. Then find out what is holding up any part of these words in your life. No need to discuss it with any of us. Discuss it with you.

I love myself.

In fact, I really like me.

I'm not a narcissist. I don't need you to like me or stand in awe of me. I don't think I'm better than anyone else. In fact, I find me to be gloriously average. Living in moderation between some really fun and amazing experiences, coupled with quiet weekends at home and plenty of boring. I like myself, even in the normal, mundane moments.

I am fun, and when I see a picture of myself smiling ... well, I can make my own self smile.

I'm funny. I laugh at my own jokes.

I screw up all. the. time. When I do, I give myself a break and forgive me. Humans screw up. Humans get snippy. Humans can be dumb butts. I can feel disappointed in myself and still love and like myself. It happens. I can't get better if I don't practice doing better. I can't practice doing better if I sit around being mad at myself. So ... I give myself permission to like me before, during and after being a giant turd.

I like myself so much that I give myself what I need. I need healthy food. I need sleep. I need a life free of unnecessary stress. I sometimes need therapy. I sometimes need medication. I need someone to hear me and listen. I need somewhere to vent and get ugly, nasty and rude ... where I can verbally vomit in a safe place. I deserve all of those things. I am a fine human being.

I am good looking. My face is unique. My hair is lovely. My body shape is beautiful. It is all different from a lot of other people, which is what makes me so interesting. I am beautiful. I find joy looking at me. And I'm dang sexy. I am sexy because I feel sexy. I feel sexy because I like me. All of me. Exactly the way I am.

I am kind. I am thoughtful. I am this way to others and I am this way to myself.

It is not a miracle that I feel this way. It is the evolution of many, many choices over and over and over again. I continue to choose me. I continue to like myself by what I do each day, what I eat, how I play, how I sleep, how I nurture myself and then how I share ... me.

I like me. I love me.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 08 May 2012 10:42:00 +0000

"After three miscarriages, my husband Ray and I were honored to welcome Abigail Hope Miller into our family January 16th, 2012.

Love reading your blog and appreciate you sharing life with us readers."

(photo by Sarah Chisolm-Miller, used with permission)

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

I held a snake and I liked it

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 02 May 2012 09:41:00 +0000

Get your euphemisms out of the gutter. The title of this post is literal. We still have nine months until Sexuary. Yeesh. You're a bunch of pervs (she says, after being the one to bring it up).

I am actually talking about a python. I held a snake. Me. The person who had recurrent nightmares about these creatures into my 30's. And sure, I just posted a picture of one in my yard. It was crawling through the grass away from me. It was not all wrapped around a human. Big difference.

I turn 40 in two months. I could not be more excited. I am like a 12-year-old about to become a teenager. It's dropped into conversation regularly, "So, when I turn 40 this summer ..." I'm thrilled. I love getting older. I love shoving more life under my belt.

I have mentioned before, my concept of having a Backward Bucket List. That is the kind of thing that becomes significant during certain seasons. Like turning 40 (did I mention I'm about to turn 40?).

Recently I found myself sitting just a few feet from a woman and her pet python. I didn't mind watching it from a distance, but I would normally divert my eyes and only take it in chunks. Instead, this time, I made myself fixate on it. I thought to myself, "I still have some issues with snakes. Especially when they're wrapped around people. This might be a great time to push myself a bit. I'm going to make myself look at this snake for awhile. I'm going to find out if I can learn from it."

So, I did. I watched how it moved around her body and coiled around her hands, arms and ... geez Louise, her neck. So very tight and coily. It was a bit unnerving, but then I finally started to notice small tid bits. Beauty. Gentleness. Elegance. Deliberate movement. It was ... pretty. I was enjoying it. Done and done!

Right, whatever.

Some guy plopped down and asked if he could hold her snake. She obliged. Was thrilled to share. Like THRILLED. As in, "Who else wants to come hold my snake?"

Frick.

More sitting and staring. Snake holding guy left. I knew I was supposed to. I knew that life was handing me a free, easy moment to learn some crap about myself. I announced to my friends, "I'm going to check out the snake." I figured if I didn't say that out loud, I might just walk over and buy a corn dog or something.

I sat down and asked, "May I sit here and hold your snake?" She was delighted to let me do this. In perfect nervous fashion, I asked no fewer than 25 questions in the first two minutes. It gave me something to do while sitting there HOLDING A FRIGGIN PYTHON THAT WAS GETTING ALL SQUEEZY WITH MY NECK.

I just felt it. Let it move. Redirected it almost like a toddler. Felt its body do it's thing to get from one place to another. It was both amazing and creepy.

Then, it's head came around and was right next my face. We were head to head. Eyes to eyes. Its tongue was moving in and out. I had a moment of thinking, "You're not supposed to stare down strange dogs. It can cause them to attack (I'm sure I read that on the internet somewhere). So, maybe I shouldn't stare directly at the snake? It might cause some sort of trigger and it will bite my face off."

Cause that would totally happen. A python might bite my face right off. Or mistake me for a rat.

Within seconds, the python was much more interested in my arm again. I then wasn't exactly sure how long I had been sitting there, and if, perhaps, I was hogging the snake. I handed him/her back over. Thanked the lovely woman. Went back over to my friends.

The rest of the day, my conversations went more like, "I'm about to be 40 and I just held a snake. Did I mention I just held a snake? And I'm gonna' be 40?" At this particular festival, the typical responses were more like, "Um, I'm 23. I juggle snakes. After lighting them on fire. Under water."

Fine. Whatever. It was a big deal for me. Added to my Backward Bucket List. They can't take that away from me.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 01 May 2012 12:20:00 +0000

"I always forget how hard these first few weeks are. I always doubt I can make it through and I always have some struggles. but this view. I LOVE IT. it really makes it worth it. every single pain, every two hours, everything." (read the rest of the story ...)

(photo by Lisa, used with permission)

You can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

My crush on Brad Yates

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 15:56:00 +0000

All the cool kids are tapping. No, really.

Tapping is the new Xanax.*

But cheaper.

And easier.

No need for water.

No side effects (unless you tap so much you bruise yourself, but then maybe you should tap about all of your excessive tapping!).

This year my friend, Lisa, introduced me to the tapping guru, Brad Yates. He has over 200 tapping videos on YouTube. This is the point where people click on links and start shrieking, "That's way too woo-woo for me. Freak head! That Christine is a FREAK HEAD!"

Come on, now. We all know I'm a freak. That's beside the point. Tapping is a very easy and valuable little tool that goes with you everywhere. So, just breathe. Unless, of course, breathing is too freaky for you. heh. heh. While some people look at this as all about energy control and very woo-woo, I have experienced it in a different way. It makes sense to me. Perfect sense.

In tapping, you are ... well ... tapping on certain points of your body. I see it as much more scientific and black and white. You are tapping on accupressure points. It has long been proven that stimulating these points can have effects on the brain and the functioning of the body. For those who want to totally geek out, read the study "Acupressure Effects on Brain Function" by Dr. Charles T. Krebs.

So, you are tapping on proven accupressure points on your body. At the same time, you are using statements to bring the issue, feeling or desire into a healthier part of your neurology. Basically, we can have certain things "stuck" within certain areas of our brain. By stimulating our brain and working through these issues verbally, we can slowly get "unstuck." The greatest gift of EFT is the amount of immediate shift you can experience in your anxiety. Maybe you can't go for a run. Maybe it isn't 5:00 yet (because it's only 8:00 am). Maybe you can't stop in the middle of a meeting and play a game of golf. But you can tap. You can tap almost anywhere.

For more of you raising your eyebrows, here is how you can spend your weekend.

Okey doke. I bring up all of this simply to invite you to a free tapping event on Thursday evening. Brad Yates is doing this specifically for parents of traumatized children. It's not something to do with/for your kids. This is for you! And it's free. As in ... free!

Having been a big fan of Brad for a long time now, and hearing him regularly as we stream him in our home (Michael and I, included), I was beside myself with excitement that he agreed to work with Lisa on this project. I hope you all can join us for the "Mom's Call." I will be listening in and tapping away right here in the double-wide.

I'd also like to give a big, public "thank you" to Brad for seeing our specific needs and being so giving of his time. I was a giggly mess when I saw that he quoted me on his page. For Pete's sake, the guy was a massive Davy Jones fan, owns a Monkees shirt and on one of his videos actually says, "So, the eyebrow story! First day of clown college ..." Yeah. I'm a fan!

* The information included on this site is for educational purposes only, ya-da-ya-da. It is not intended nor implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, mainly because I pee sarcasm. Obviously, I am in need of my own medical advice.

You can't help a good thing

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 15:30:00 +0000

Source: thesocialnerd.com via Christine on Pinterest

My name is Christine. I was raised by a Southern Baptist pastor. I speak in analogies.

Last year I ~~inhaled~~ enjoyed what became one of my new favorite beers ever. Beer snobs turned their noses to it. Yeah, I'm not a beer snob. I just prefer to come in from the triple digit heat and quench my thirst with something that puts a smile on my face. Throw in a happy label and I'm SOLD!

Enter: Ruby Redbird. A seasonal beer. We all know what "seasonal" means. Basically, it indicates you will love it so much that you are pretty sure you can't live without it, and it will soon be gone forever.

Ah, but Shiner couldn't walk away from this one. It worked. It made money. It made lots of money, cause it's so friggin' YUM!

Thus, it returned for 2012. Thankyouverymuch.

I spent this past weekend at the Parenting in SPACE conference, created for those who are parenting children with a history of trauma. I was there to teach and guide and help, but also learn and refresh myself. One of the main things I drill into the heads of parents is that none of us are good at this. It's hard. It doesn't magically get easy one day.

I have my own Ruby Redbird things. Things that are really effective with my kids, but I allow them to be "seasonal." I do them for awhile, and then let them slide. They do good things for my kid, and I reach a point where I am hurting so much I don't want to do too many good things for them. I want to pick and choose. I get a little bit of joy out of not giving them too much joy when I'm feeling hurt and/or attacked.

And if you say you've never felt this way you're a big, hairy liar. I can still be your friend, just understand I know you're full of bull crap.

Anywho, I found myself sitting in a room full of people feeling like there was a giant spotlight on me. I had purposefully been avoiding some very small things that needed to return. I needed to show up this week with those tools in hand and give them to my children. Not because they earned them. Not because I felt like it. But because all of us deserve a fresh start every day. All of us deserve patience and understanding of our past, our triggers and our mountains we climb.

Yesterday I reintroduced some Ruby Redbirds. I am hugging more. I have been letting things go. I have been letting a LOT of things go.

The pee? Eh. Thanks for cleaning that up. Now get over here. You haven't hugged me yet today.

Shoving your cell phone in your sibling's face because you "need to stretch?" Eh. That's one way to stretch. I wonder if there's a way to do it without invading personal space. Anyone have any ideas?

The sass. Eh. We haven't hugged since this morning. Get your bootie over here. Now, would you like to do-over that conversation?

More pee the following morning and declaring that they "feel dry." Eh. Thanks for cleaning that up, even though you feel dry. Now get over here. You haven't hugged me yet today.

The giant rip in the computer chair (that is obviously a cut)? Eh. It's an old chair. These things happen. That's what duct tape is for! Why don't you help me fix it. Should we use the camo or tie-dye print?

Of course, many of you know that this is just a sampling of the 2,128 behaviors I've experienced in the last 48 hours. It has been exhausting, and I'm having my buttons pushed to get me back to the place I was before relaunching my own seasonal tools.

I'm still hanging in. I'll mess up. I messed up yesterday, apologized, made a repair. It's all still therapeutic. I'll mess up again tomorrow. This time, though, I'll have an actual cold Ruby Redbird in my hand as I finish out the day.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 09:49:00 +0000

"Our son Liam was born 2/15/12. This was taken at about a month old after his nightly bath. Is there anything cuter than a baby in a mini bathrobe?? :)

Quick back story on me- I'm a birthmom of a beautiful 13 year old (he turns 14 on 4/9!) but this is my first time as a "mom" and my first go at breastfeeding. Praise the Lord it's going fantastic. We have a wonderful nursing relationship I hope will continue for years to come. Liam latched within a few minutes of being born & hasn't let go since! ;)

Thank you for your continued support of breastfeeding moms and kids!"

(photo by Together We Are Home, used with permission)

You can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

The small victories are huge

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 01:02:00 +0000

photo by Jose Bernalte, used with permission

The following email is from a family I have worked with. We haven't talked in awhile, and it was a pleasant surprise to see their name show up in my inbox.

Healing is slow and takes patience. Sometimes that isn't just referring to our kids, but actually referring to us as parents. It was such a thrill to hear from them, and read their excitement.

I love a million things about this message. First, they are real. They are raw. They are not perfect, and they don't expect to be. Yet, they keep showing up every day and they try. They are daring to attempt this whole therapeutic parenting thing. They are daring to trade playfulness for anger. They are trying something completely out of their comfort zone, knowing they are asking their child to do the exact same thing. Love won. Bonding won. Attachment won. They all won.

"Christine,

We are totally freak'in out over here in [our neck of the woods]. My daughter had a really, really bad day at school today, and she came home ready to bring everyone down with her. We made some mistakes but the one thing I did totally right for the first time ever was stay out of and away from my big feelings. I did not get mad ... I did not get sad. I was playful, funny and I had "fun."

At one point, [A] was getting ready to throw up on me and I started a silly song about how it was throw up on Mom day. How I knew when she came home from school that I was going to get some of her throw up on me. You know what? She decided not to give me the satisfaction of her throw up!!! Victory! I did say the f word too much and my sweet husband reminded me that it is still a "bad" word BUT .... I am not mad, tired, or angry at [A] tonight. I'm not emotionally exhausted. I'm not looking to make her pay for what she did.

This is the best thing that has ever happened and I want to give you a BIG, HUGE thank you!!! We love you over here at the [Y] House."

(photo by Jose Bernalte, used with permission)

Four years

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 00:58:00 +0000

Four years ago we went from the Fab Five to the Sensational Seven.

We all began a walk through life that was harder than any of us expected.

These five amazing kids are beautiful. Strong. Amazing. Creative. Stubborn. Hysterical. Compassionate. Sassy. Loving. Giving.

They are my heroes. I have said it before: some of them have climbed mountains ... in the snow ... up hill ... without feet.

They are such individuals. Becoming adults. Finding their way. We're in those beginning stages of natural separation. Allowing each of them to prepare and practice for life.

This week we specifically celebrated two of them. We are seeing these two beautiful kids need us less and less.

I realize it's not a miracle. We did our part and they did theirs. They worked for this. They did it. They keep doing it day after day.

We love these goofballs. We love them so much it hurts.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 09:06:00 +0000

(photo by Ruth, used with permission)

*you can submit your own picture to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Makin' lunch out of nothin' at all

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 17:53:00 +0000

It was one of those days. We had nothing in the house to eat. Well, we had nothing in the house that was purchased with a specific intention. We had leftover bits of this and that from a week's worth of groceries. And I did it.

I went all grandma!

You see, our grandparents were masters at wasting nothing. They made something out of nothing all. the. time. Thus: soups and casseroles! They never ran out and bought something new if the old thing could be fixed or tolerated.

I didn't want to go to the store and have to rush. I had six humans to feed for lunch. I was feeling very determined. Stand back and be terribly impressed.

onion
garlic
olive Oil
shredded carrots
can of black beans
can or northern beans
bag of spinach leaves
salt
pepper
leftover containers of salsa from a taco run

Sauteed all of that. Threw out some corn tortillas and a jar of Tabasco. BOOM!

The kids raved. Said it was one of their favorite meals. Go figure.

It was a good reminder to me. So many times we think we have no choices. No options. Nothing we can do. Yet, I could write a book on the times in my life I've had to make something out of what I thought was nothing. I've had to move forward when I thought I couldn't.

A life lesson in lunch. There ya' go. Tune in tomorrow when I make a profound comparison between universal energy and poo.

Or not.

Let's all really hope for NOT.

You weren't born with that

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 09:17:00 +0000

We are only born with two fears. Only two of them have actually been embedded in our DNA. They are there for survival.

The fear of falling.

The fear of loud noises.

Every other fear you have has been learned.

Gonna' say it one more time.

Every other fear you have has been learned.

Which means you can also un-learn it.

So, there.

When we lived in northern Oklahoma, we discovered our home was infested with brown recluse spiders. I immediately went into full-on freak out mode. The exterminator said we probably had a nest of them in the basement or somewhere. He said they were very common, and thankfully (THANKFULLY?!?) they were called "recluse" for a reason. He was making it clear that he would spray, but it would probably do very, very little to alleviate the problem completely.

I was pretty sure I was going to die. Not from the spiders, but just from hearing and absorbing that information. Just. die.

I moved to the country two and a half years ago. When we arrived, I had two very large fears within myself. Snakes and scorpions (you can see where I'm going with this, right?). This week I took the following pictures in my yard.

This would be a snake.

This would be a scorpion.

Meet our neighbors, Mr. Rat Snake (about five feet long) and Mrs. Texas Scorpion (approximately two inches long). I don't know why I felt the need to give you their sizes. I guess I didn't want any of you thinking that we had mammoth scorpions, or that was some cute little garter snake.

Yet, in taking the pictures, I was able to zoom in and stay near both of these guys without fear. I was able to stare down the snake and determine it was our friend. I sleep at night, knowing these critters are all around our house. I left our last home, still finding the occasional brown recluse spider and just tossing it outside. No, really!

If I can un-learn those fears, I can un-learn the others. I wasn't born with a fear of snakes, scorpions and spiders. Some of my kids weren't born with the fear of rejection or abandonment. I wasn't born with the fear of being a bad mom. I wasn't born with the fear of failure. I wasn't even born with my emetophobia! These were all learned along the way.

So, how on earth does one go from recurring snake nightmares to following one around in the yard to get a good shot for Instagram?

Here are some things that have worked for me over the years:

1. Researching the heck out of it. Learn all about your fears. Did you know that brown recluse spiders are the most common house spider in Kansas (November 2002 issue of the Journal of Medical Entomology)? Yup. People live around them all the time. Last time I checked, they weren't killing people in droves. And severe reactions are much more rare than you would think. And they really are reclusive. They don't care for people. So, give them fair warning before shoving your foot inside a shoe on top of them. Same with scorpions. They don't want to sting us unless they think we're trying to pummel them. We can take normal precautions. For those of us with life-threatening allergic reactions, we can be prepared and always have our epi-pens available. We can learn what snakes are venomous and what snakes are of zero threat to us. We can know where to seek medical attention in the very rare case that it is needed.

This works for all your fears. Are you living in jealousy or fear of rejection? Study it. Research it. Learn where it came from (have a therapist guide you through this). Understand the "why" underneath your emotions. Know your enemy. It may not be as threatening as you think.

2. Expose yourself to it. We tend to avoid things that cause us to think about our fears. Yeah. Don't do that. Allow yourself little bits of exposure. And if you're an emetophobe, just have five kids and a husband who catch every stomach bug that ever crosses their paths. If you're afraid of snakes and scorpions, move to the country. Free therapy!

3. Think all the way through the worst-case scenario. You'll be shocked at how even the very worst things in life are actually still very manageable. Many times we sit with a feeling of helplessness. When we force ourselves to speak of our fears and follow them through to fruition, verbally, we find that they don't actually have the same power that we have been giving them. Try it. Even the most horrible things have room for exaggeration in our heads.

4. Visualize. Sit and think about being in your fearful situation and ... surviving. Making choices. Moving forward. Having a positive outcome. Our brains created this fear through our experiences. We have the power to turn it off and/or normalize it.

It takes longer to un-learn a fear than it does for the trauma to initially trigger it (see the study on mice in the October 2003 American Psychological Association's Journal of Experimental Psychology: Animal Behavior Process). I didn't go chasing critters around the field with a camera right after we moved out here. Perhaps it was my early Google searches of "How to make scorpions die, die, DIE!!" which actually led me to a few more level-headed bits of information. The point is: I got there. I kept with it. I could either learn to live with what life handed me, or I could build a platform with electrical shock wire in my bedroom on which to spend the rest of my days.

Not sure you have any major fears? Think about what really makes you mad. What makes your blood boil? Many times we cover up deeply rooted fears with "mad" or "angry." Perhaps you deliberately avoid something because it starts to fuel fear.

Instead of covering it up or avoiding it, maybe you could try ... just for five minutes ... staring that snake in the face from a safe distance.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 09:11:00 +0000

Source: time.com via NS on Pinterest

You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Please touch my hair

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 16:02:00 +0000

*myself with two other dreadie sisters in Orlando - I'm on the right*

The dreadies are coming up on two and a half years of life. They continue to be a part of me I love. Wait, no. Adore.

I adore my dreadlocks.

Before I started them, I was told I would either love them or hate them and, yet, really wouldn't know until I HAD them. Many people wear locs just for a set period of time. I have a lot of friends who have dreaded multiple times throughout their life. They fit a season for them, and then it's time to step away for awhile.

For me, it just seems to be the perfect fit.

What the means is that in 2.5 years I can count on one hand the times I have truly wanted to cut them off. That feeling has never lasted more than ten minutes. So, there ya' go.

What I love about my hair is what it teaches me about other people.

Some were taught it's not polite to stare. Even if something is beautiful or fascinating. So, they never look at or speak of my hair. It does not exist. Ya' know ... in that magical fairytale world where you can not talk about stuff and it goes away. That place is where my unicorn goes to take a dump.

There is a small category of people who ask the occasional question. They are truly curious. But that's as far as it goes.

Then there is my favorite human. The person who just digs right in there. "May I touch your hair?"

Um, yes! Absolutely!

They start asking about the different things hidden within the locs. They're truly interested in the stories behind each bead and piece of thread. They each find their own fascination. It is always amazing to me how differently each person views them and what they see first. Or what they are most interested in. Those are the people who get me, even when they're still discovering who I actually am.

Last night a lovely person finished climbing around and uncovering all my treasures within my locs. He sat back, looked at me and said, "It's art."

My eyes stung with the tiniest of tears for just a moment.

Yes. Exactly.

Not only am I okay with you touching my hair, but it would make my heart explode. Climb aboard!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 14:20:00 +0000

Tyler, a reader of the blog, sent us this picture of her sister, Haley, and her sweet son, Isaac. Just three months old when this was taken.

You can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

SPACE - April Fool's Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 13:53:00 +0000

Today's guest blog is the Parenting in SPACE newsletter - April Fool's Edition. It was written by House Calls Counseling and reprinted here with permission.

Those guys crack me up!

****************************************************

"Hey Mom! Home Calls Consulting or something like that left you a message."

Dear Mom and Dad,

I got a weird text message from House Calls Counseling congratulating me on successfully completing their program, "How to Control your Parents." What's up with THAT? When have I ever tried to control you? When have I ever insisted you do things MY way? I thought you were the mean ones always trying to control ME, and that's why you kinda sorta sometimes seem totally out of your mind! Me? I’m cool. I'm always totally in control!!

Anyway... the message from House Calls Counseling also said that even though I "graduated" from their program, I should still encourage you to go to some stupid conference of theirs. I think they call it "Parenting in SPACE" or something? They said it's, like, the third weekend in April and that you can find out more about it on the web. Really? Like the spider webs in our basement can really help you. Whatevs!!! I don’t think you should go. I don’t think they’ll be able to help you learn anything new about caring for me, managing me, or caring for yourself, or… well… ANYTHING!!!!

All my love and affection,

Your Angel

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"Out of this World Serenade"

****************************************************

"Down the Rabbit Hole of Billy's Mind"

After video-taping the DVD called “Chaos to Healing: Therapeutic Parenting 101”, Billy realized what had been on his mind throughout the filming in front of the live, studio audience – FASHION! Christine thought Billy was just enjoying their friendship; unbeknownst to her, he was actually just VERY jealous that she had a better outfit!!!

At Parenting in SPACE 2012, Billy is hoping to take the "S.P.A.C.E.” award – Superior Presentation Above Content Excellence - away from Christine!!

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"Elmer Understands"

To recieve the House Calls newsletter in your inbox each month, just visit their website and look for "Our Newsletter" in the middle of the page.

Don't forget to play!

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 16:30:00 +0000

Is your life sucking?

Play.

Are you feeling depressed?

Play.

Things not going well with your kid?

Play.

Do you feel alone?

Play.

Are you feeling overwhelmed with too many people in your life?

Play.

Do you believe you're incapable of playing?

Play.

Do you mock grown adults who play?

Play.

Bank account is empty?

Play.

You don't have enough time in the day to play?

Play.

Have hemorrhoids?

Play.

Is your heart broken?

Play.

Do you hate your job?

Play.

Is your name (fill-in-your-name-here)?

Play.

Waiting it out

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 15:11:00 +0000

We do our best to keep our lives as simple and stress-free as possible. That makes us all happier, healthier and a million times more fun! Yet, stink-a-muck if life doesn't just happen anyway.

Last week we had some life happen. Outside of our control. It complicated our schedules. It added some fear to some of our kids who already struggle with those feelings. Since that time? Yup. The energy in the house has been pretty oppressive. I'm hearing about a lot of feelings through behaviors. We are also in a new phase of healing and moving forward in the lives of some of our kids. As parents, we are now always leaning toward seeing the behaviors as age appropriate instead of assuming it is trauma related. It's a tough juggle, but our goal is to allow our kids the space to use all they've learned and healed through. Start to live it out on their own. Practice and fall while still in the safeguard of our home.

And fall they do. That's a part of the process. It's not fun, but it has to happen. That's how we all practice getting back up again and repairing anything we damaged along the way.

So, this week I'm ~~trying to~~ practicing waiting. Being patient. Giving space.

"PLEASE leave me alone!"

Okay, so I do.

And I wait.

They walk outside. I don't know where they are going. I let them go and give space. Time. I wait.

They come back in and slam around. Go back to their room. I keep waiting.

When they finally find their way back to me and say they are ready to talk, I start with, "What would you like to say?" And I listen and repeat things back to them and agree. I agree with everything. I hear every single thing they say and I agree with it. Because even if it is not true in my reality, their experience is absolutely true to them. If they say I'm a sucky mom, they believe it and they also believe their life sucks and they may even believe they deserve a sucky mom. They are telling me their truth. And I listen. And I agree. I don't correct or try to fix.

Oh, sometimes I do. Absolutely! Cause I'm so stinkin' human and I get my panties in a wad and I don't WANT to listen. You betcha. After those times, I get myself regulated. I apologize for not listening and ask my child for a do-over (which they always give me! ha!).

The truth is this is really what all children want - especially teenagers. Being a teenager is some hard crap. I remember that. You're stuck in this space between being a child and an adult. You want both and you hate both. It's confusing as heck and many times you just don't have the words. But you want to be heard. You want people to hear your pain and hurt and confusion. Someone to just listen and not say what you are feeling is wrong.

This is hard stuff for a parent, too. No one wants to hear they suck. No one wants to listen to verbal daggers. Hmmmm. I guess that's about as painful as being the person believing and feeling those things.

So, every day I try to be better and better and better about listening. No matter what is said. Hearing the pain of their life experience. Letting them have a place to verbalize it. Being grown up enough to know it's not about me, but I am the obvious place they need to unload it. Finding the privilege in that.

And later, when things settle, saying, "I'm feeling kinda' stinky about earlier. Would you play a game of UNO with me? That would really make me feel connected to you again." The hurt is repaired through shared time or ... whatever we work out together. Even if they do things during that shared time to sabotage the love they're feeling.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 09:38:00 +0000

Source: people.com via Georgia on Pinterest

(picture of Miranda Kerr, Victoria Secret model, nursing her son after returning to work last year)

You can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Lenten Hoop Challenge

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 23:05:00 +0000

I'm still hooping my way through Lent as a part of the challenge from Pandora's Healing Hoops. This week, in particular, it has been exactly what I've needed. Life can be a real bitch. No matter how much you plan, things can go in the crapper in a matter of seconds.

Sometimes it costs you money you weren't expecting. Sometimes it brings up massive emotions you weren't expecting. Sometimes it causes more work in your already hectic life. This dang hoop gives me a space and a place to just get it out.

I don't know why it has clicked with me. It just has. I love the way it makes me feel. I love being mediocre compared to so many of the other hoopers I know, and feeling them celebrate exactly where I am. I love these grainy videos on my MacBook that have captured some really special, fun and healing moments for me. I love how much I enjoy watching myself while I also hate watching myself. I love the feel of the hoop in my hand, or how it hugs my shoulder when I walk along with it. I love how it is a magnet that draws new people to me in ways that never happen when I'm without it.

I won't try to explain it. I can't. I'll just keep ... hooping!

One of my daily challenge pics also made its way to Hooping.org!

To answer the questions I always get:

You can make your own hoop.

And I purchased my polypro and LED hoops from Lara at SuperHooper.