welcome to my brain . net

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 14 May 2013 09:51:00 +0000

"My view the past 12 weeks."

(photo by reddit user, frazzledmomof3; used with permission)

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

Mother's Day 2013

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Mon, 13 May 2013 13:08:00 +0000

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 07 May 2013 13:31:00 +0000

(photo by heartlineministries.org; take and used with permission by Heartline and mama)

This is mom, Jimema, and her second set of twins. The other set is also girls, who are 4 years old.

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

The slippery-slope argument

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Mon, 06 May 2013 14:26:00 +0000

(photo by Bethany Carlson; used with permission)

I have been spending some time challenging myself when it comes to logical fallacies. I know that these aren't just issues that creep up in politics and media. When looking at my own life, I can see how I use them, even in my parenting.

While I fight hard to avoid using the classic "slippery-slope argument," and also encourage others to do the same, I have to admit that I'm pulled to it like a magnet when guiding my kids. I know why I do it (fear, much?). I know why I ignore that I do it (again with the fear).

Okay, so you may not have a clue what I'm talking about. What is this whole slippery-slope thing? We've all heard it, experienced it and probably used it.

"A slippery slope argument goes like this.

If you take position A, you run the risk of taking position B;
position B is wrong,
therefore A is also wrong." - John Frame

We want to protect our kids. We want them to learn from our mistakes (meaning: we want them to be totally different from the way we were at their age). If we are concerned with their choices, we feel extremely out of control. That giant feeling then creates havoc in our brains which causes us to want to fight against it. If you can't stop someone with brute force, then ... maybe you can stop them with fear. Slippery-slope argument, enter stage left.

"Smoking will lead to drugs."

"Drinking will lead to drugs."

"Not cleaning your room will lead to drugs."

"Premarital sex will lead to dancing!" (sorry ... any other recovering Southern Baptists in the house?)

I kid, I kid. But we do it. We do it even in the tiniest of things. I have four teenagers, and am trying to focus hard on my words and my intentions. Mostly my intentions. That's where I start to screw up.

In our home, we focus a lot on living in community: within these walls, within our park/small business, within ... the world. We talk about a balance between creativity, self-expression, radical acceptance, teamwork with the human race and thoughtfulness. It is a constant tension. We get it right as much as we get it wrong, because there are a million different nuances to it.

I have things I can teach my children. I have things I can guide them through. They can choose to absorb that information or not (and sometimes, their lack of absorption is not a choice ... they're busy working out something else in their heart/mind/life). My fear, however, is something I can count on most of the time.

Over the last two weeks I have repeated something to at least five other parents that resonates with them. It is true for me over and over again. When I find myself facing a behavior (or what appears to be a "snowball" of behaviors) with one of my kids, I start to panic. I could easily name that feeling as "fear," but even more so, it is a big wad of, "I want it to stop. I want to make it stop. Stop! I NEED IT TO STOP!" It is unbelievably intense. Overwhelming.

That's when I love to use those slippery-slope arguments with my kids. I don't think about it. Instead, my words just start to move there. I want them to be scared. I want them to be as scared as I am.

Yeesh. Okay. I said it out loud.

I am currently working extra hard on all of this. With all the talk of same-sex marriage, I've also seen a surge in slippery-slope arguments. I want to make sure I'm not countering those arguments if I'm doing the same thing myself. Not just in political or human rights discussions, but sitting right here at my kitchen table.

So, every time I go there (or I want to go there) I'm asking myself, "What am I afraid of?"

Then I'm reminding myself that I do not want to live a life of fear. So, I should choose my words and my actions based on what is actually happening and what is actually true.

Even when I still feel afraid.

Especially when I still feel afraid.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 18:45:00 +0000

(photo from Tanya; used with permission)

"I have been meaning to dig out this picture of me breastfeeding my twins 14.5 years ago. It was the only picture of me nursing any of my four biological babies, which is sad considering I spent three years of my life in the nursing position!

In the past 6 years we have added 4 more children to our family via adoption, a newborn from the US (now 6, that I bottle fed, and can say 100% that for ME, being able to compare the two- breastfeeding was way easier than bottle feeding- and yes, I did try to get my milk to come in so I could nurse him too, but he was born early), a son from Haiti and a son and daughter from Ethiopia.

We have 4 boys and 4 girls ages ranging from 6 to 16.

I love seeing your magical milk pics, and I always get a little teary eyed remembering those sweet moments with my own babies."

You may submit your own Magical Milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by scatterpig; used with permisison)

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

I am beautiful. I am lovely.

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 13:58:00 +0000

I watched a video this morning that spoke to me. It's an ad. I hate that it's an ad, but I'm not going to throw the baby out with the bath water. I'm going learn from the message, despite its source. What I'm taking away from this, is not only the reminder that I should be very aware of my own beauty, but also:

My children internalize everything I say about them. Or don't say about them. They internalize everything that we say about a birth parent. Or everything we say about a divorced spouse.

That hit me hard when I heard the woman say, "My mom said I had a big jaw."

Her mother was hurting the day she said that. She was human. She put her pain onto her child. We all do that. We all do that. As long as we're breathing, we can fill back up that hole that was created inside ourselves ... the hole we create inside our child.

In the work place, it takes 2-3 positive comments to motivate and maintain connection after one criticism. In parenting, it's more. Some say 10-to-1. I have no idea how many it would take for a grown adult still carrying around the pain. I'm gonna' make a guess of - much more!

If a parent projected their own pain into your soul, and they weren't emotionally healthy enough to cover it with ten truths ... do it for yourself. You can't do it for your children and the people closest to you until you've done it for yourself.

Ask 15 friends today to watch this video and send you a message describing YOU. Do it. When you find yourself arguing with with these truths, write me and allow me to argue right back!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by Tinkymama; used with permission)

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

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by Tinkymama; used with permission)

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

Owning our anxiety

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Sat, 06 Apr 2013 13:43:00 +0000

One of my kids has a massive fear of me dying on an airplane. The week before any trip, they begin a cycle of challenging behaviors, in hopes that I will change my plans. This has been the norm for five years. There was a time when we would wait to tell the kids about a trip until the week before, because the difficulties would begin as soon as the trip was in sight. Even if it was 6-8 weeks away.

This is a part of the tip of our iceberg we have balanced upon over the years. In all honesty, when there is so much improvement in many areas, I find myself extremely discouraged when these things pop up yet again. I'm not terribly therapeutic. I'm sarcastic or indifferent. It's stressful enough to plan for a trip for yourself, and plan for your home while you're gone. Throw in clogged toilets or continuous aggression or the constant subtle stick-poking behaviors ... yes, this is why I coach people that they need to give themselves a break for not being "on" all the time.

You can't.

Sometimes the strongest, best thing you can do is to keep your mouth shut and stay very, very busy. And when you don't keep your mouth shut, use that as an opportunity to teach your kids how to make it right when you screw up.

Just last week I was talking with a mom about finding a way to journal the behaviors. When you are in the middle of attaching and healing, the progress gets lost. It's there, but you can't see it. The healing that does happen can be completely clouded by a typical time of regression. So, that is what I'm doing today. I'm journaling so I can remember. So I can see on the days my own vision is clouded.

This particular kid has been spiraling down for several days. Yesterday I gently suggested we might want to talk about the things coming up on our calendar to work through the big feelings. This created more anger and more defiance, so I backed off. I said, "Take your time. I hope you are able to talk about it. If you're not, that's okay too. We will get through it. We always do."

My child slept through dinner (with food issues, this is a very big deal, and extremely outside their norm or comfort zone). I found myself nervous. Okay, I was terrified. I saw it as a protest of epic proportions, which meant it might be the beginning of other old behaviors. I had no idea what we would wake up to. I had no idea what missing dinner would look like this morning. I was scared.

At 8:00 am, my child walked in, and in a very calm voice said, "Mom, I'd like to talk about what is bothering me. I'm afraid that you'll get hurt on the airplane next week. I was hoping that if I act really bad that you won't go."

Yeah, let that one soak in for a bit. The information is not new. The big deal is: they did that. On their own. No prompting from me. It was the first words out of their mouth. On this particular subject and with this particular fear ... that has never happened before today.

It was Denise Best who first taught me that most of the kids in her practice who were acting out around their parents' trips were doing so because they feared they wouldn't come back. I knew that. I have been able, over the years, to gently lead my kids through that truth. But today my kid grabbed their anxiety by the balls and said it out loud, on their own, so it would stop owning them.

There was a time I honestly did not think any of this would ever be possible. It seemed too big and too much. This continues to feed my hope. It continues to feed my child's own hope for themselves.

And on the days when things are whonky and words aren't being said ... I will come back and read it. Remind myself what healing actually looks like. Not allow my eyes to be clouded to so much truth. So much healing. One more step in the journey, and any amount of regression cannot take this away!

It happened!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by Auraswon; used with permission)

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

The legalization of sin, right here in River City!

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 19:05:00 +0000

With all the talk of marriage equality, I have noticed some themes. They happen with every hot topic. This particular one has a few catch phrases. I wanted to take some time to speak to one in particular that I continue to hear from many people:

"As Christians, we are called to love sinners but not encourage them in their sin. That's exactly what we're doing if we legalize their behavior!"

Hmmmm. If you believe that participating in homosexual acts is a sin, then this makes a lot of sense. I get it. That's cool. With so many people who hold this conservative view, I assumed I could find this line of thinking on many other issues of sin. So, I started looking.

I'm still looking.

I am searching for the petition to stop non-believers from marrying those who believe in and follow the teachings of the Bible. I've been around the Southern Baptist block long enough to know it's a sin to be unequally yoked. So, of course, there must be people actively fighting against, and wanting to make these sorts of marriages illegal. There must be a Facebook group or something. I've just yet to find it. Surely, people are not choosing to keep one sort of sinful marriage illegal, but be completely numb to another. Allowing those in unequally yoked relationships to marry would be completely redefining biblical marriage. Again, I'm sure it's out there. Probably right under my nose.

I'm also digging around to find the groups working adamantly to stop atheists from adopting or serving as foster parents. By allowing these people to parent, America is (in many circumstances) using government funds to allow these children to be raised under their own view of and/or disbelief of God. Wowza. Someone is out there trying to stop this, right? They must be. It would only make sense.

In thinking through this same school of thought (not giving legal standing to sin), I realized years ago that there was another area in which I wasn't able to find a lot of uproar. Again, I'm sure I'm simply not looking hard enough, or need to improve my Googling skills.

Gluttony.

If you believe in and follow the teachings of the Holy Bible then you believe gluttony is a sin. And if you also believe that we should not be legalizing sinful behavior then ...

I'm guessing you're totally down with the government cutting you off the next time you go through Starbucks, because you have more than met your daily allowance of calories and fat. We shouldn't just let you, as an adult human being (of sound mind), be able to make your own decisions on what you purchase and what you consume - in public, or behind closed doors. By doing so, we are saying this sin is perfectly acceptable. Again, we have already legalized sin!

There is an outcry, right? Right? Please tell me there are Christians marching in the streets with signs declaring a war on the glamorization of gluttony.

Please, tell me that gluttony is not perfectly acceptable within the walls of most churches. That it is not celebrated and perpetuated around every Wednesday night meal before prayer meetings. Please tell me that there will not be people standing around in their Sunday School classrooms on Easter, declaring the travesty of how many people support equality in marriage, while shoving donuts in their face holes and dripping glaze on the top of their extra 60 lbs that has landed in their gut.

Please tell me that their pastor doesn't pat his belly and make fun of his own gluttony while his congregation laughs and nods. Surely, when someone starts talking about eating healthier, they will not receive the most negative comments from their church family. It's not those people who will mock their decision to try a vegetarian or vegan diet for the sake of their cholesterol.

But in fact, the healthier I have become over the years, I have received the most negative comments, insults and mockery from those who claim to follow Jesus Christ. I have been ridiculed and even told I'm wrong to eat a plant-based diet, by people who are obviously gluttonous. They feel threatened, because my decision causes them to face their own reality. And in their world, that reality would be categorized as sin.

This line of thinking is disgustingly hypocritical. I can say that because I was that. I've said these things while feeding donuts and soda to children at 9:30 am before teaching them the story of Moses. I have said that Christian homosexuals can only please God by remaining celibate on the same weekend of attending the wedding of a Christian friend's second marriage to a non-Believer. I supported an increase in Christian adoption agencies who would not allow homosexuals or atheists to adopt ... all while weighing 200 lbs.

I faced myself and my beliefs, long and hard. I said to myself, "I can no longer be a hypocrite, but how will that look?" And I didn't stop until I found an answer and peace. It was a terrifying journey, because it forced me to question many things. But I did it. I did it because this is for and about other humans. I didn't just do it for me. I did it for them. I wasn't making any sense, and it was directly affecting their lives.

Over the years, my husband and I have had our theology questioned harshly. His response to someone on Facebook this week was: "For me, this has nothing to do with religion or any kind of theology. For me, this issue is all about equal rights for every person." I completely agree. If it were about legalizing sin, well ... really? Show me where you are trying to make every non-biblical marriage illegal. I have been there, but when I faced it, I changed. I didn't feel like I could be so hypocritical and claim to love all people. It could no longer be reconciled within me.
As does happen, I'm receiving comments across several areas of online communication that suggest I'm saying "two wrongs make a right." I think many people continue to miss my point and my own personal growth. This isn't "two wrongs make a right" kind of thinking.

This was a "Wow! I was WRONG!"

I do not, for one second, think it is wrong or sinful to grant a legal marriage to any two consenting adults of legal age and sound mind. I think that is fair. I think it is right. I think it is good.

How these people view, practice and live out their marriage is completely up to them. I will add this to my post. I do not want anyone else to think that I think this is wrong. I don't. I think marriage equality is AWESOME and beautiful.

I'm going to let U.S. Senator, Diane Savino, finish this one out for me.

"If there's anything wrong, if there's any threat to the sanctity of marriage in America, it comes from those of us who have the privilege and the right. And we have abused it for decades. We have nothing to fear from [same sex couples]. We have nothing to fear from people who are committed to each other, who want to share their lives and protect one another in the event of sickness, illness or death. We have nothing to fear from love and commitment."

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 11:10:00 +0000

(photo by Geraldi; used with permission)

You may submit your own Magical Milk Pics to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Parenting in SPACE 2013

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 13:38:00 +0000

Lindsay and I grabbed some Skype time to talk about the upcoming Parenting in SPACE Conference. It is the brain-child of my wonderful friend, Billy Kaplan. He and the staff at House Calls Counseling make it happen each year.

This is a wonderful conference for any caregiver of a child with special needs or emotional struggles that create challenging behaviors. I use this approach with all of my kids. Trauma of all kinds (deaths, divorces, moves, etc.) can spark struggles and acting out that may leave you feeling at a complete loss. Learning to be therapeutic in your parenting helps you keep your cool, and it also creates a safe space for everyone to slowly work through the issue.

Pardon the bad video and audio quality. We're ... well, we're lucky we got this much quiet time in the middle of our days! We can't get picky

For more information, visit Parenting in SPACE 2013. If you are interested in picking my brain for several hours in a very small group setting, you might also consider attending my preconference: "You've Got This!"

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by Luiz Casimiro; used with permission)

You may submit your own magical milk pics to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

When you totally almost die, but then you don't

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 18:29:00 +0000

The longer you live, the more you find yourself having those moments. You watch yourself miss a wreck by mere seconds. You have a doctor give you that whole, "It could totally be cancer or it could totally be something really not anywhere near the scariness of cancer." Life brings lots and lots of great experiences, and more and more near misses.

Almost exactly one year ago I took a day away from home to do some self-care. I spent time with a friend, enjoyed a great hike, hooped at Barton Springs. I was in the middle of a hooping challenge, and took one of my favorite pics that afternoon.

About 10:30 pm that night, I was about five miles from my house, and hydroplaned off the road going 70 mph. I flew through a grove of trees, which eventually brought me to a stop. I'm pretty sure the whole thing just lasted about ten seconds (if that?) but I remember what felt like minutes of watching and feeling trees flying past me, the things that I was yelling and thinking and waiting for the big crash - the big tree that I figured was inevitable.

I never hit that tree. I hit all the others, but not the big ones.

And then everything was still and quiet. There I sat in my car. Surrounded by trees. Lights on. Phone still sitting perfectly in the seat beside me, connected to the charger. Purse still sitting in the seat beside me. I think I paid attention to the fact that no air bags deployed. I saw that the windshield was shattered, but I didn't even feel any burn or pain from the seat belt. I didn't remember anything painful happening to my body.

So, I put the car in reverse and tried to back out. Really.

Hmmm. In shock, much? I actually thought, "Maybe I can just back out of here and drive the rest of the way home. No one has to know."

I felt a lot of things at the same time. I called my husband. Someone living across the road had already called 911. My phone's GPS helped Michael locate me because ... well, I was way off the side of the road.

A climb out of a window, an eventual bad case of poison ivy (which would show up in a few days), one tow truck, two sheriff's deputies, zero physical injuries and $8000 worth of damage to a car not worth $5000.

I waited a year to really talk about it because, even now, it's a struggle. Not because it could've totally killed me. Instead, it's this overwhelming feeling of embarrassment over the whole thing.

Embarrassed. Huge feelings. I told people in my life over those next two weeks, but I was very selective in who I told. Even now it fascinates me to think about that short list. People that I knew wouldn't say something stupid (cause when traumatic things happen, people get ancy and say stuff that actually hurts more than helps, and it almost always involves God ... and the word "co-pilot"). People that knew parts of me better than others, and would understand why I needed to tell some people, but not all people.

Okay, back to the embarrassment part. It took me awhile to figure out what was going on with that. Sure, I was embarrassed that I totalled one of our cars and it inconvenienced us in several ways for several weeks. I had to tell my kids, and I hated that I was bringing more trauma into the lives of these amazing humans who still struggled just with being close to their parents. I knew this would cause an increase in behaviors for quite awhile (and it did).

That's when it started to rise to the surface. I'm a helper. I'm a fixer. And I really struggle with letting myself be helped or fixed. It felt painfully uncomfortable to be comforted.

It felt painfully uncomfortable to be comforted.

I knew that telling my parents meant that my parents had to sit and think of what could have happened. And it sickened me that they would have to have those moments. I saw what it was like for my husband. He knew something horrible had happened the second he heard my voice. He got in the car, on the phone with me, but not knowing what exactly he was about to find when he reached me.

Same with my friends. My original Orlando girls ... telling them ... I had to. They want to share in my life. But I knew that each of them would sit with it and imagine it all the way through and feel it, and I didn't like creating that situation for them. That kind of pain. Even if it was just in thought and it was brief.

So, while a lot of people have these experiences and come out of them with a "Sieze the day!" mindset and start to make major life changes, I have not done the same. I have spent the last year focused on two things:

1) If I had died last March, I would've been completely at peace with how I have lived my life, even in all of my flaws and mistakes. I have not wasted my adulthood, and I am happy with what I've done, whom I've known, whom I've loved, where I've been and where I'm going each day when I wake up. Peace. I have such peace, even while still craving life. I am so happy I have lived my days in this way. So, very happy.

2) I want to be more open about how human I am. And that feels scary as hell. I am human (just noticed I was using the word "weak," and realized that I would absolutely confront others with that word, but here I was using it for myself - edit, edit, edit). I am not more human than the average person. Not at all. But I don't like people to see me as such. Well, let me correct that: I don't mind people seeing my struggles if it is helping them be stronger. But I hate for people to see my humanity and give of themselves to help me work through it.

I like to always be the "fixer." It feeds me. It feeds me in a way that crosses over into an unhealthy place. I also need to be fed.

I'm doing better, but I have a very long way to go. And yet, if a train runs me over this afternoon, I will still be at peace. I am living my life in a balance of play and service and growth and a good dose of self-care. I love that I did not have one single moment last March of thinking, "Had I not been out galavanting all over Austin that day, I wouldn't have had that wreck. I would've been at home." Nope. Didn't think that for one second. I would've died as a woman who was actively seeking balance and seeing herself as important.

I could write for days. This experience still speaks to me every time I drive past that spot. I'm still learning from it. I'm saying it all out loud, and I still feel very embarrassed that I somehow "let it happen to me." I know, right? That doesn't make sense. Cause I'm like everybody else, and am screwed up in plenty of my own special ways because this body and brain keep walking around on this planet every day. It's inevitable.

Sometimes I need to be fed and carried. I have slowly been leaning back into others this year and letting them do that for me. I have said through tears, "You feed my heart, and it feels really, really good." That was rare for me. I realized it shouldn't be.

Last week, I looked at a child who has a terrible fear of me dying on a plane. I said, "I know you are afraid that I'm about to treck off to Orlando again for five days. I know this is hard. I am still going. It is important for me to go. I need this. This makes me better for you. And it makes me better for me." And I went. And that child made it through those fears. And I sat in a house full of women and did not teach a class or make myself available to help anyone with parenting problems. I let women speak truth to me and challenge me and feed me and fill me up. I let myself need them.

That part of me that is afraid of allowing others to see the struggles ... that part started to die a little in the wreck that night. I'm scared to let it go completely. Scared to publish this stupid post.

Cause I'm human. So, there ya' go.

Look close. You can see my red dress, hooping in the spot where the car finally came to a stop. This shot was taken from the fence line. I went back two days later and hooped there, to reclaim that space. Give it some happy.

A few days after that, I made this video.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 09:30:00 +0000

(photo by scatterpig; used with permisison)

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

The value of partnership

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 21:25:00 +0000

Today I posted the following. I wanted to put it everywhere I could. Not just to brag on the life partner I have, but to remind you that he didn't get this way overnight. He has worked hard, and listened hard and participated HARD over the years. And now it looks like this.

I'm about to walk out the door and be away from my five kids for five nights.

How many meal plans did I have to prepare? Zero.

Grocery shopping? Nada.

Prep cooking? Zilch.

Do I have concerns over whether or not someone will get poisoned via their food allergy or that the kids will not maintain their mostly plant-based diet? Nope.

How many hours have I spent writing out the details of what the kids need and their typical flow to their day and who needs to be where and when? Not one hairy second.

Is my heart palpitating over how the trauma triggers and subsequent behaviors will be handled? I have no doubt that even if it's not handled exactly the way I would, they'll all receive therapeutic responses.

Because when I leave, Dad will be here. And Michael Moers? He's 400% parent.

Michael, I know that you DO forget things and you DO totally let things fall between the cracks because this gig here is not your fulltime job (and I DO totally lose my sh*! sometimes and make you feel crappy when that happens). But today I can't deny the fact that even in that ... you are head and shoulders above many. I just sat and talked through some things with the kids, but found myself just saying over and over again, "Dad will be here. Dad will know. Dad will take care of that."

You're an amazing Dad.

You're an amazing husband.

You're an amazing man.

And as Lisa has said for years: you really should teach classes. :)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 10:30:00 +0000

Check out Kate's post titled "What breastfeeding moms should know when your babe must be hospitalized"

(photo by Kate; used with permission)

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

Sexuary - when it all just goes ka-plooey

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 14:49:00 +0000

Hey, you there! Yes, the person who wrote me off and on the first week of February and I haven't heard from you since. Yeah, you.

And you over there. The one who had never had sex for three days straight, but set a goal for weekly sex. And you made it one week. Sorta. Even that was a bad night.

Oh, yup. And you guys. The couple who had the biggest fight of their lives and both of you pulled up my face on your laptops and spit on me. Don't ask me how I know, but I know.

Let's not forget the gal who not only didn't turn "grumpies into humpies," but was ready to receive assault charges by throwing dog barf in her husband's face. Okay, so maybe even I encouraged her to do so after hearing her story. Some days simply have to be a rain check for the humpies.

I know you're there! I hear your silence! Do you know why? Because every single year in Sexuary, something has gone ka-plooey for us, too. Even this year. Maybe even ... especially this year. Do you have any idea just how much we fought last year, while having sex 31 days in a row? A LOT! There was one week that I wondered if we fought more than we had sex. This year we had a week that went full-on k.a.-p.l.o.o.e.y.

We can make a plan for intimacy and sex, but we can't make a plan for the life happening around it. Sometimes, once our plans get bumped, we have an even greater difficulty trying to get back in the game. This entire subject is more challenging and more intimate than any other we face (my opinion, but I'd be willing to put money on it). It can turn everything on a dime. It goes well, and it can be our best day ever. It goes south, and it can easily take days or weeks before finding our way back from it. Because it's challenging. And intimate. You put yourself in the most vulnerable of states, and it doesn't take much at all to tank that.

I have learned more from Sexuary, not from when it was easy, but from when it was painfully difficult.

I have learned the control I allow my emotions to have over my body and my reactions.

I have learned I have my own areas of weakness where I am embarrassingly reactionary.

I have learned my body - the parts I adore and the parts that frustrate me.

I have learned what I love.

I have learned that the things I love change and shift and grow and fade.

I have learned I am stubborn and sometimes selfish.

I have learned I am guilty of expecting my partner to read my mind.

I have learned my body is changing with each passing year.

I have learned I have more control over participating in sex than I ever used to want to admit.

I have learned I once got really good at making excuses without there ever being any intent to work through them.

I have learned that I still go there.

Sexuary continues to remind me: I am fully human and I am fully sexual.

Sometimes it all just goes ka-plooey.

So, now what?

The need to justify

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 10:30:00 +0000

I went to college at a small Southern Baptist university.

On Sunday mornings, if I skipped church, I would actually get showered and put on my Sunday dress before going to the cafeteria. Ya' know, so people thought I had, indeed, gone to church.

I wasn't the only one. Lots of us did this.

If someone saw me out and about during "church hours," I always stopped to ~~lie~~ explain why I wasn't at my place in the pew.

As a young mom, I always felt pressure to explain my choices: an afternoon at McDonald's, what was actually in my kid's bottle, WHY they had a bottle, why I missed play group, etc.

The other day, several other dread goddesses and I admitted that some of us wear make up and like it, or shop at Target and Old Navy. We all knew we could say these things safely and fully to each other, but the undercurrent was, "We're afraid of being judged by hippies at large." Yup.

In another conversation with an unschooler, I felt this overwhelming urge to explain that we're not fully unschooling by the definition of most, and why, and, then ... how much of my family's personal info do I share? Ugh.

We all fall into this trap. I could blame it on negative responses I have received in the past. Raised eyebrows. Finding out later that someone was making assumptions and judgements about me behind my back. However, regardless of what I've experienced in the past or what feelings it triggers, my response is my responsibility. Nothing else is to blame.

My name is Christine, and I have an unhealthy issue with over-explaining myself.

I know this. I'm working on keeping my mouth shut. I'm answering only what is asked and not going into a long explanation to cover all areas of possible judgement. I've even been trying a new thing. When I have the feeling of, "Oh, they're not going to agree with this or may have a problem with (fill-in-the-blank)" I just ... sit with it. I keep talking normally. Or I stop. Whatever. But I resist the urge to explain myself.

The more I do it, the better I'm getting at it. Granted, I have days where I completely slurp and end up stumbling all over myself verbally trying to explain why the vegan has a Sonic bag in the floorboard of her minivan and exactly what a freegan vegan flexitarian is and why I believe in balance in all things, and, and, and, and ...

I'm learning that while I have a pretty good read on others and I am very discerning, sometimes I'm just plain wrong. Sometimes I assume what another person is thinking about me, and I'm completely off. Sometimes people don't even give a crap about whatever the heck I've dubbed their greatest obsessive thought in that moment.

Yesterday I looked at my kids and said, "Don't let anyone tell you that you have to feel or act old, or stop learning new things, or stop changing - ever!" I really want to be better at this. I'm making a conscious effort to improve because it's pretty much a colossal waste of my brain power and energy.

I should save myself for when people are blatantly put off by me, ya' know? It's exhausting work being offensive. Why create it when it's not there?

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 10:30:00 +0000

(photo by Biblioteca de Arte; used with permission)

You may submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpic@hotmail.com

I really hate the whole slow-and-steady thing

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 10:30:00 +0000

I'm training for a 10K.

I've run six miles before. Three times. Two years ago. I started this particular training after finally working my way up to 5K after an eight month break from any running. It has been a process. Again.

In April, several friends are going to run a 10K on my husband's 45th birthday. Most of us are in our 40's. This makes us feel very badass. Unless, of course, my sister-in-law shows up. She's the hottest 50-something you've ever seen, has knocked out a few half marathons and will be jogging backward in front of us, smiling and talking the whole time. We love her ... even when we hate her a little bit.

Thursday I knocked out five miles. Allow me to repeat it for effect: this was my first five miles in two years! I felt badass!

I also wanted to stop. I always feel awful the first half mile. Always. It doesn't matter if I'm running a mile or six. The first half mile is when my body says, "You are stupid. Why do you do this? You are STUPID." Then I hit a groove and I'm usually okay for awhile.

On this long run, covering so much ground, I had to take both of the "big hills" in our area where we run. So, after conquering both and hitting the last longest stretch (running into the wind, of course), I wanted to stop. I really, really, really wanted to stop. I didn't. I cursed at myself for being dumb and stupid and ever wanting to run. I tried to look around at nature as a diversion. I tried to find a better song to motivate me. However, it was several minutes of misery.

And then it leveled out again. By the end of the run I even felt like I could've gone farther.

After the leveling out, and after the wanting to throw myself off a cliff, I started to remember what it was like to start running again after such a long break. Then I remembered what it was like when I had never run, ever. I downloaded a silly little app and would run for 60 seconds and walk for 90 seconds several times. And then I would run more and walk more and let the app boss me around.

I remembered how scary and miserable it was the first time I ran six minutes straight. Here I was, about to knock out five miles. Yet that first six minutes in a row seemed way too daunting. Impossible.

Every time that app took it up a notch, I was pretty sure I couldn't do it. Yet, every time I'd look behind me at what I'd already done, I would almost chuckle that those stages intimidated me so much.

That's when I thought about my kids. How slow healing can be, and how hard it can be to see it happening. When I coach parents of hurting kids, many times I encourage them to journal their experience so they can more easily look back month after month and year after year and see the progress. When you are in it, every day seems too daunting. You feel like you're getting nowhere. The little regressions that are a part of the process feel like you'll never be functioning on a different level in your home ... ever.

I hate the slow-and-steady thing. I like quick and easy. And fast. And obvious. I LOVE OBVIOUS!

I like my little phone apps because I can look back and see where I started. I can see my training process. In another app I can actually see where I ran. How far I ran. That feels amazing. As my friend, Stacey, says, "I don't like running. I like having run."

I don't like the slow-and-steady process of helping my kids heal. I don't like the slow-and-steady process of giving them what they need for issues that will be life-long. It's hard. Learning to pace yourself is exhausting, and I always tend to lean toward going too fast and frustrating myself. It does not come natural for me. So, when I can, I go back and remember life a year ago. Two years ago. Four years ago. When I coach parents, I hear their stories and remember things I have forgotten - things I never thought we would be without.

And when I run, I just keep cranking up the music and putting one foot in front of the other. Over and over.

Sexuary - closer than when we started

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Fri, 22 Feb 2013 09:30:00 +0000

I have had so many messages this month. Among them all I have laughed, cried, spewed coffee across my screen and nodded my head in agreement so much that it almost gave me whiplash. I have heard stories of renewed passion, painful infidelity, goals being set and shattered, little fights, big fights, rose petals getting stuck in ... some places, stories of the month starting out great and then going really sour, and many struggles with sexual dysfunction.

In my own home, I guess some would say we have "scaled back" this year. However, I think we actually dove into exactly what Sexuary is. We are dealing with some stuff this year. It's not one big thing, but several things that caused us to give this month a good solid consideration on what was most important. Ultimately, our goal was not to have more sex. It wasn't even to have better sex. This year, for us, the goal was to end the month closer than when we started. We have so many things going on right now that are pulling us from each other and sucking our time and energy. It's a year of clawing ourselves back together - whenever and however we can make that happen. And we are doing just that. Compared to last year? We can't. We can't even compare it to last year. Not even on the same planet. Life happened, as it does. We are shifting to meet the needs and demands.

And we are happy with it. We are not happy that things are hard right now and we are exhausted and our family has added complications. No, that doesn't thrill us. However, I am personally thrilled that we can look at each other after 17 years and say, "This is hard. This year, and this month, not much of anything is coming easy. It's one of many. We're going to have times like this. We can't predict some of this stuff. But we are still here. We are still making time for one another and we are being patient. This is a season."

We are ending the month closer than when we started.

You have one more week. You can still make that happen. Please pay close attention to how different these years have been for us. Meet yourself right where you are. Meet your lover right where they are. And end this month closer than when you started.

I'll leave you with some more feedback from others who are doing their darndest in this Sexuary thing:

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"Our sex life has had our ups and downs like anyone's sex life, but damn we are having some amazing sex this month. It's really bringing us even closer. Also this may have been said several times this month, 'I don't care what shenanigans and antics the kids pull, and there are always antics, we will have sex tonight!'"

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"Thank you for sharing your story about depression, non sex days and journey to recovery. It was so inspiring! I still struggle with depression but taking steps to healing. Hooping was my first step."

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"When we are happy, we have lots of sex, when we aren't, we still have more than most people. Lately, though, like the last six months and since venturing into [polyamory], we have mostly been dealing with pain and my anxiety and misunderstandings and lack of trust. We have distinctly different love languages (I am doing things for others and gifts, [he] is spending time and words of affirmation). This has caused a lot of confusion and hurt when we are so vulnerable now, and we can't hear each other love each other. So, we have been pushing each other away to a point where neither of us wants to show the other that we love them or can really accept the other's love because we are so hurt and the trust is broken. It's a vicious cycle, and no one wants to make the first move to fix it. So, we decided for Sexuary that we will "fake it 'til we make it" and do the following:

1. Five or more times a week, we will do something to love the other person in OUR love language and articulate clearly that this is what we are doing when we do it. This shows the other person what it looks like to give love in a way that will be easily understood.
2. Five or more times a week, we will do something to love the other person in THEIR love language and articulate clearly that this is what we are doing when we do it. This shows them that we can express our love for them in a way that they know how to receive it, even if it is not easy or does not come naturally to us.
3. Every evening, we will discuss how Sexuary is going, what is working, not working for us.

Our hope is that good sex will naturally follow and that we will get plenty of that as a side benefit to repairing the trust and affection in our marriage."

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"Massage. Who knew?"

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"My husband and I rushed to get on board with sexuary and it has opened up or communication levels. He honestly was surprised that I brought this to his attention and that I wanted to become closer again."

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For those who have not been keeping up, you can follow along with Jackie and Dane. They chose to do something completely outside of their box. Twenty-eight days of fetishes. They are chronicling it at "Sexuary - Our Daily Journal." There is explicit sexual language and some activities that some may find outside of their comfort zone. However, it is also full of intimate honesty and a vulnerability that has reminded me of how similar we all are. We all have passion and fear and love and unspoken expectations. "While we have gone to an extreme, the challenge could apply to all. Talk, communicate, and become more intimate with your partner during the following 28 days." Yeah, they totally get it.

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"Scene: 3 year old having hard time night potty training. We decided to try waking him up 2x/night to go to the bathroom. 1st wake up - peed the bed. Damn! 2nd wake up - peed the bed again. Damn!

I tended to first wake up, hubby tended to second wake up. Both of us frustrated, angry, tired and taking it out on each other. Silent blame. Heavy sighs that say it's your fault. 3 year old shouting through monitor every few minutes, "I don't want these crackers."

Hubby says, "this sucks."

Aside: Normally we would have slept facing the opposite direction... wait, we would not have slept, we would have been wide awake, pretending we were asleep and pissed off at each other filtering into the morning and day.

Back to story... I decided to try something different. This was super hard for me. [insert giggle...he was really hard]. I reached down and stroked him, then totally just going for it, proceeded to "suck". [insert second giggle here... "this sucks" comment].

Long story short: Sexuary happened.

Moral: I turned grumpies into humpies. Hubby said the diversion was like "sexual kung fu."

Now that's a happy ending. [insert another giggle]

The end."

Magical Milk Pic-o-the Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine Moers) — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 10:30:00 +0000

(photo by Tinkymama; used with permission)

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