welcome to my brain . net

You won't believe what my husband did

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:26:00 +0000

I am lousy at sending things. Mailing things. Like LOUSY.

I have a ton of people in my life who are amazing at sending me things. Cards, gifts, funny little things they find along the way. Like AMAZING.

So, yesterday morning there was a knock at the door. Our sweet flower delivery woman was standing there, as she has before, delivering flowers to someone in the park. But this time, the card had my name on it: "Christine." FLOWERS! FOR ME! Eeeee!

The card was not signed. It just said, "You're the best!" It was obviously written by one of the women at the flower shop. My mind immediately went to about six different friends who may have sent them. It's the kind of thing they do. Heck, I even have one friend who sent us an anonymous gift card to an adult shop to help us prep for Sexuary. Nothing surprises me anymore. My friends = AWESOME!

Anywho, I'm staring at these flowers and have a slight moment of, "I need to FaceBook this so the random person out there knows I got them and am enjoying them. Also, it's probably going to make my husband feel a little crappy as I swoon over flowers he didn't send me."

I FaceBook it. I enjoy the flowers as I notice them throughout the day.

My husband gets home and says, "So, you like the flowers?"

Alright. Let's get one thing clear. I do pretty well at being therapeutic. I work my arse off for my marriage. But I'm also human and ... well, I'm a woman. Instead of feeling very excited they were from him, I felt completely deflated. I felt like the whole day of enjoying them (and secretly really, really wishing they had been from him) was stolen from me. I then was having a very difficult time being excited. Of course, anytime you have a big feeling you immediately start to get defensive and everything blows out of proportion. I was upset the card was so platonic and vague. If I were going to get flowers from him, I would want and expect a very personal card. Maybe mention Sexuary? Perhaps a private joke? Heck, use my nickname ... or stop by the flower shop and fill the card out yourself so I know it's your handwriting!

Yeah. This really sweet gesture ended up being not quite so much. It was partly his thought process and then fueled and steam rolled by the massive emotions I was having at discovering they actually WERE from him.

In case you ever thought I was anything even an inch above normal, um ... no.

Sooooooo ... this morning I woke up and started getting on about my day. Didn't even notice anything was amiss. Another knock at the door. Same sweet lady, "Well, Christine, I'm back again!"

I had not noticed the flowers were gone from the kitchen. There she stood, holding the exact same arrangement, but this time the card was from his own hand.

He took them back into town, apparently hauled tail across town during his conference period, wrote a very personal card which made my heart swoon and paid them to redeliver the same flowers 11 miles outside of town. Because of the small cost, they would only accept cash. He was a dollar short. Had to go dig change out of his car to make it happen.

The flower delivery lady and I, both, declared him to be a super amazing man who not only knew how to make things right ... but how to make them spectacular.

Get out of your own way

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 17:40:00 +0000

Sixteen years ago, if I hadn't dared to move to a city I didn't know, take a job that made absolutely no sense to me, just to be closer to a man I knew I loved ... I wouldn't still be with that man today. He is my life love. We both make the other want to poke our own eyes out with a stick all. the. time. But we wouldn't want to share that insanity with anyone else. Every single day.

If we hadn't dared to move forward with an adoption, despite the naysayers, we would not be sitting in the family we have today. Good, bad, ugly ... horrific. I still choose my family. I am glad for my family.

If we hadn't dared to pick up our lives that were moving forward in the very typical American-dream sort of way, and buy a dinky RV park out in the middle of the nothingness (which is actually spectacularly beautiful in its nothingness), we wouldn't experience most of the people who now enrich our lives the very most. It was crazy. We share very few details about all it took to do this. CRAZY. And amazing.

If I hadn't dared to let myself get close to my first real adult female friend, despite having lived a life with brothers and not really knowing how to connect with other women on that level, I wouldn't have my gift that is my Lush.

If I hadn't dared to fully and thoroughly question everything I had been taught, and then find truth on my own, I would not have several of my very dearest friends. They have radically altered my state of happiness. I can't believe I functioned as long as I have without them. I didn't even know. I was my own worst roadblock.

If I hadn't dared to fly to another state and spend a weekend with a bunch of moms I had never actually met, I would not have the insanely tight circle of friends who have been a lifeline for me. Had we not all dared to do such a thing, this tiny retreat would not be the massive thing it is now. No, really. It grew 655% in one year.

If I hadn't dared to say "Yes, I'll speak at your conference," to a virtual stranger (after a full day of stalking and vetting him online), I would not have the amazing friendship I do with Billy. I wouldn't have a DVD that is now in post-production. Poor guy is stuck with me ... forEVER.

If I hadn't dared to put myself out there and live out confidence in what I have to give, I wouldn't have a coaching practice. That was intimidating. I felt like I shouldn't be offering help because I didn't have a bunch of letters behind my name. Vulnerability has been my BFF in this new venture.

If I hadn't dared over and over and over again, to meet people I had only "known" online ... put myself out there ... took the risk of it not always being some magical, lifelong connection ... I wouldn't have all that I do now.

Get out there.

Take a risk.

Get hurt.

Try again.

Make it happen.

Because nothing ever happens if you stay in your room.
Nothing ever happens if you leave the party too soon.
Nothing ever happens if you don't get hurt.
Nothing ever happens if you never get dirty.

Make a little space, and get out of your own way.

Even if you're scared.

Especially if you're scared.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 15:03:00 +0000

"This mom and twins were visiting our clinic when she allowed us to take
this photo."

(photo from my sweet friend, Lori, I still have never actually met)

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

Death to the Sexperiment

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 15:43:00 +0000

It has come to my attention that Ed Young, Jr. has reclaimed his "Sexperiment" from years ago. He wrote a book. He's pimping the heck out of it. So, to call February the "Sexperiment" may lead people to believe that I'm aligning myself with he and his products (and by "products," I mean books and Bible studies, not lube and toys).

I kept the name as a gentle mockery of the fact that Michael and I totally out-bumped-uglies against the Youngs that first year. That was the fun of it for me. Now ... not so much.

We are going to rename it. It belongs to all of us. We're taking it back. Lube talk and all!

I began a little discussion on FaceBook about some possibilities. Missy Salyers had us all with "Sexruary."

I'm going to shorten it to "Sexuary," just so no one actually tries to throw in the "r" - not to mention, it sounds like a full combination of "February," "sex," and "sanctuary."

Yes, please!

I'm currently accepting submissions for artwork. If you love to design, and would like to have your work emblazoned on my nasty, sex-it-up month for 2012, this is right up your alley. Each time it is used, I will give you credit and link to your website.

Shoot your submissions to christinemoers@hotmail.com. I will choose my favorite and unveil it by February 1st. And then ... off to the ~~races~~ bedrooms!

Live from Albuquerque

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 21:58:00 +0000

The Fiesta Project had the kids make hula hoops
while I was busy lovin' on their parents.

This weekend I had the privilege of speaking to some really amazing parents. My visit was sponsored by The Fiesta Project. If you are in New Mexico, and you are an adoptive parent, you would be crazy NOT to connect with them. They provide resources for all homes built through adoption (domestic, foster care, international). I was blown away to see something like this exist. The parents who attended my training and Q&A came free of charge. And there was childcare free of charge. New Mexico is leading the way. If you're there and not taking advantage, well ... you've lost your ever-lovin' mind. :)

I had a fantastic time. Wanted to take a minute to promote what they're doing and also send out a big hello to each of them. Thank you all so much for laughing and crying with me and making me feel so loved and welcome.

In the airport today, TSA frisked my dreads. That was a first, and still has me chuckling. All I could think was, "This would never fly in Texas ... checking all 'big hair.' Security would be backed up for days!"

So funny ... and weird. I shut my eyes and tried to enjoy the brief massage.

Free FAST Wifi at the airport, though. I'll give them that. None of the Boingo Expensive-o crap.

Just had a major panic attack. My laptop is not synced up with the time change and I had a flash that I might actually be at the wrong gate and/or missed my plane. Brain reengaged with reality. Crisis averted.

The theater of the absurd?

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 09:51:00 +0000

There is power in words. All emphasis below is my own.

A new catch phrase caught fire before the holidays among Conservatives. After a Macy's employee refused a transgender woman access to their women's dressing room, the media storm fueled the following:

"The LGBT agenda has become the theater of the absurd.”

Scott Ross wrote: "Over the past three years, we have witnessed a dramatic rise in pro-homosexual activism resulting in misguided policies that cater to a small minority of people while creating unnecessary threats to a vast majority of others."

In a brochure from the Family Research Council: "Discrimination occurs when someone is unjustly denied some benefit or opportunity. But it must first be demonstrated that such persons deserve to be treated equally."

Last week a 14-year-old Girl Scout called for a boycott of cookie sales, in protest of Girl Scout chapters allowing transgender girls to participate as members of the organization. Again, the power of words. In her YouTube video she said GSA "cares more about promoting the desires of a small handful of people than it does my safety and the safety of my friends and sister Girl Scouts."

The video was originally posted on a website called "Honest Girl Scouts." They state that their aim is to educate, enlighten, uncover facts and insist on a return to the traditional values listed in the Girl Scouts of USA Congressional Charter that includes the words: "...qualities of truth,... purity..."

Power in words.

I would like to start with full disclosure. At one time in my life I said many of the very same things. I'm not proud of it. In fact, I'm mortified that I ever believed or thought such things. So, I have a great deal of understanding and actual empathy for those who do. At the time, I truly believed I was right. I had a great deal of fear over "doing the right thing" and really wanting to please God. I believed that one day I would stand in front of the maker of the universe and would have to justify my actions and words. I wanted to get it right. With that very positive motive, I was also getting it dead wrong. In my effort to avoid judgement and condemnation, I was actually creating it in the world around me.

I have since forgiven myself. Just writing it, though, breaks my heart again.

I say that to say this ... again: there is power in words.

All that I emphasized above is implying that those who are LGBT are wildly unreasonable, inappropriate, illogical, dangerous, menacing, risky, dishonest, liars and immoral. Giant, suffocating blanket statements about entire groups of people.

Horrible vicious words.

Wrong.

Wrong words.

Awful words.

Shame on me for having ever allowed myself to hear and believe such a thing.

Shame on me for not standing against this sooner.

Shame on me for assuming and not connecting with and knowing ... actual people. Beautiful, amazing people who do not want special treatment. They simply want to be accepted and have the same rights as every other human.

Pretty harsh to shame myself. Absolutely. SHAME ON ME. I took part in treating others as less than myself. SHAME ON ME. I believed there should be distinctions between my rights and theirs. SHAME ON ME. Even when I had my doubts and things just weren't lining up in my heart and my head and my Bible, I just listened and regurgitated what talk radio and James Dobson fed me. SHAME ON ME.

For as long as scouting has existed, there have been gay boys camping in tents and lesbian girls sharing camp bathrooms. There have been boys who know and believe they were born girls and girls who know and believe they were born boys ... selling cookies, tying knots, having sleepovers, and earning merit badges. I don't recall reading about these children making sexual advances on other kids and creating chaos.

I haven't read this because LGBT youth have been busy creating other things: fun, joy, friendship, beauty and love. They have always been there and I didn't know it and you didn't know it because ... they're just kids.

The LGBT agenda is not the theater of the absurd.

I declare today that it is the theater of the beautiful. Theater of the awesome. Theater of the equal. Theater of the lovely. Theater of the accepting.

The LGBT agenda is the theater of love.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 09:13:00 +0000

"With our last son, Ezra, (born in May) we were told by every OB practice we could reach that we could not have a natural birth due to have 3 c-sections prior. Finally we consented to attending a practice but we ducked out of the hullabaloo of surgical prep appointments during the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. We did a ton of research, prayer and just getting an understanding for the remarkableness of a woman's body and her ability to birth a child.

I labored slowly and naturally for a week with the crescendo of his birth ending up on the very day they had wanted me to come in for an unnecesarean. Just my husband, children and I were present as my miracle 9 1/2 pound baby boy was born into our own arms in our bedroom at home. No waiting 5 hours to nurse my precious little one! No tubes down his throat or needles and pressure checks. He was perfect from the start and nursed within 5 minutes of being born. I wanted to share this photo with you because every where I turned I was told that it cannot be done. And yet it was! An Unassisted Birth Miracle!"

(photo by Shauna, used with permission)

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

Life is like a pudding

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 10:10:00 +0000

Source: google.com via Simone on Pinterest

"... life is like a pudding: it takes both the salt and the sugar to make a really good one."

- A Gathering of Days by Joan W. Blos

That's not yer daddy's BBQ

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:42:00 +0000

This is a favorite in our house. It's super easy, and it gets gobbled.

Gluten-Free Vegan BBQ Tofu

2 pkgs firm tofu, pressed/drained and diced
2 bottles gf BBQ sauce
1 large can of black beans (or 2 14.5 oz size) drained and rinsed
1 package of gf cornbread mix

Turn on your oven's broiler and scatter the tofu all over a big oiled glass casserole dish (11x13). Put the tofu in the oven while mixing up a double batch of gf cornbread.

Occasionally check on the tofu, and stir it around with a spatula. As the water starts to collect, lift the pan to drain it to one end, and absorb it with a napkin.

When the cornbread goes into the oven, take out the tofu and put the oven on whatever temp is required for your cornbread mix. Add the beans to the pan and pour both bottles of BBQ sauce over the top. Stir it a few times and then pop into the oven. When the cornbread is done, take everything out and serve!

Fighting for the underdog - Dublin Dr. Pepper

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 20:37:00 +0000

This morning I read some devastating news.

Dr. Pepper is severing its relationship with Dublin Dr. Pepper. Well, not totally "severing," but they are cutting them off at the knees. I think that's the legal term.

Most of you probably have no idea where Dublin is or what the heck a "Dublin Dr. Pepper" even means.

It was 121 years ago when the history of Dr. Pepper took off in a little Texas town called "Dublin." It was the original recipe which included real cane sugar. It was a beautiful thing, thus the 121 year history.

When Dr. Pepper decided to switch over to high fructose corn syrup, the little bottling plant felt it was more genuine to stick with its beginnings. It continued the original recipe, and within about a 40 mile radius of the town you could get yourself a genuine Dublin Dr. Pepper. You can get it on tap around the state. They are famous in these parts. They could be shipped around the country, and I have many friends from high school and college who have done so over the years. Nothing beats a Dublin DP. And calling it a "Dublin Dr. Pepper" is a part of the charm.

As it happens with some big organizations, they decided to squash the little guy.

"Our main focus has always been on protecting the strength and integrity of the Dr Pepper trademark,” said Rodger L. Collins, president of packaged beverages at Dr Pepper Snapple in a recent interview with the Wall Street Journal.

So, what exactly has happened? Dr. Pepper is going to keep making their original recipe (that they walked away from for cheaper sweetners, years ago) and will put them in special bottles with a vintage feel. Dublin will sell that Dr. Pepper on tap at their museum. They will no longer actually make it there at the bottling plant. The word "Dublin" will never be on another bottle of Dr. Pepper. The Dublin plant has already had to lay off a significant number of workers.

Apparently, Dr. Pepper felt that the town name of "Dublin," a town that has been loyal and well respected in how it has handled its special little nook of the world, is somehow a threat to its strength and integrity. Little Dublin, Texas. Destroying Dr. Pepper.

Or ... not.

I'll let you do your own research. You may not even care. You may have no idea that Dublin Dr. Pepper ever existed and you think the whole thing is ridiculous. I get it.

But if you don't - if this ruffles your feathers, would you join me? Would you make your voice heard for a small town niche that has done nothing but provide a quality product, nostalgia, local jobs and plenty of delight?

Sign the petition: "Allow Dublin Dr Pepper Bottling Co. to Continue Operations"

(photo by Karole Schroeder/flickr)

Questions we are asking

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 10:48:00 +0000

I am trying to ask more questions of my children who joined our family through adoption. I then follow with active listening. Note: I suck at active listening, and the first step is to admit you have a problem. So - done!

One thing I know for sure is that adoptees think about their adoption whether or not they talk about it. In fact, what studies continue to show over and over and over again is that they think about it a LOT. They have a lot of unanswered questions and they choose not to speak or question to protect those who are playing an active role in their lives. They are afraid they'll hurt our feelings. They will feel like they are being disloyal to us. As a parent, it is my job to create an environment where my children truly do believe it is safe to ask and to feel ... anything.

There are adoptees who do not have this desire and do not express that they've ever experienced any pain over their adoption. I respect that, but also adamantly remind us all that this is rare. The norm and the reality is that adoption is built on pain and loss. We heal and help that pain and loss when we assume it is there, even when we are not hearing about it.

So, I find time to bring it up and help them talk about it. Sometimes they talk a lot. Sometimes they don't want to talk. Yet, every single time I do it, I'm telling them loud and clear: I accept you - all of you, and every inch of you is safe with me. I can handle it. It is welcome in my ears and my heart.

I have a variety of resources, and then have simply plucked certain questions and discussions. I broach the subject about once a week. I ask a question. I try not to lead at all. I suck at this one, too, as I have a major aversion to silence when I feel uncomfortable for me or anyone else. So, we're all getting something out of it!

Here are some great discussion starters I have used, and wanted to share:

Have you ever felt like someone "gave you away"?

When you feel love for me and Dad, does it make you feel guilty and bad for your first family sometimes?

A lot of people say that if you are adopted, you are a "chosen child." How does that make you feel? Does is remind you that to be "chosen" it also means that an adoption plan had to be made for you?

Do you feel like there is a pain inside of you that no one can see? Or that they ignore?

Has there been a time when it feels like you are crying on the inside but no tears come out on the outside? When does that happen? How long does the feeling last?

Do you ever wish you still lived with your first family?

Think about your adoption. Then, pick one word to describe it.

How do you think your first mother/father felt when you were born?

How do you think I felt the first time I saw you?

When you feel sad and your invisible hurt is very big, what do you need most to feel better?

I'm pulling a lot of these things, right now, from the free resources on Sherrie Eldridge's web site. Most of her free downloads are actual Bible studies. However, if that is something you do not believe or practice in your home, you can still pull many discussion questions from the material to utilize in conversations with your children. That is how we do it.

Sherrie Eldridge is the gal who wrote "Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew." The book is not religious and a very easy read (on the eyes - not on the heart). I love it as a resource, and just reread it this past year (had not laid eyes on it since going through our adoption prep back in 2002!). It is the kind of book that teachers, grandparents and even partners/spouses should also read. It will help anyone who is actively involved in the life of a person who was adopted.

Fight the lie that their silence means they have no thoughts about their adoption. Talking about it creates a space for healing, and is active proof that you fully accept every single nook and cranny of them ... especially the parts that make you uncomfortable.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 10:36:00 +0000

"Even big chested mamas can nurse! I'm a 38 G and LO is 9 months EBF and going strong!!!"

(photo by Sarah used with permission)

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

February, she's just around the bend

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 14:30:00 +0000

Hey, boys and girls. Do you know what time it is?

That's right. In just about three weeks, we begin Sexperiment 2012.

Some of you are chomping at the bit, and some are shaking in your boots. I'd like to focus on the boots crowd today. A little pep talk, if I may. Sit yourself down and take a few deep breaths.

No ... really. Deep breaths. You can do this ...

Once upon a time, Christine never wanted to have sex. Well, I take that back. She wanted to want to have sex. But nope. Just wasn't there. It was replaced by a beautiful duo we like to call the Depression and Anxiety Twins. They were quite bossy, and she was quite submissive to their crap.

Thus turning Michael and Christine's sex life into utter crap.

Christine felt guilty. She knew the problem was her. She didn't know why. But most definitely - her. One day she heard a friend having a very healthy discussion about sex to another friend. She immediately hated them both and wanted them to die a slow painful death ... starting with their mouths. One friend said, "If more than a week goes by, my body does start to not want to be sexual as much. I really try to pay attention to the calendar and not let that much time pass, even when things are busy or stressful."

Christine decided this friend was an idiot. Maybe a little mean, too. She ignored this (totally true) piece of wisdom and carried on with her 2-3 time a month grit-your-teeth-and-bare-it sex life. Yes, it was as spectacular as I'm sure you're imagining.

One day she read a book that reminded her that she is a gift. A friggin' hot, luscious wad of YUM. And that gift was meant to be shared (sharing is caring!). In sharing that gift, she would receive her own treats along the way.

She reached out for some help to whoop up on the Depression and Anxiety Duo. Christine discovered that most of her issues with sex were built upon her lack of self-esteem. She didn't necessarily like herself. Therefore, she assumed Michael felt the same way. No matter what he said or did, she didn't believe the truth. This was her problem. She finally faced it.

She slept - more. Much more. Clutter and dirty dishes be damned.

She ate better. Much better. Especially on days when time allowed for a little late-night romp.

She began asking for fun sexy stuff for Christmas - toys, clothes, oils. When Mr. Anxiety started to rear his ugly head and trigger all those old feelings when she stood there holding that tiny, harmless little bullet of a vibrator ... she took deep breaths and remembered what was true about herself. She remembered that her husband loved being with her. Of course he did. Christine was smokin'! She repeated the truth. She felt those big, giant feelings, and moved forward anyway.

Christine discovered that the feelings would go away. When she moved forward, they went away AND she was having sex. Win-win.

She kept lube very handy, and when she wasn't totally in the mood she'd say, "Let's slather some of this bad boy around and see if things don't improve." And they did. And she kissed the lube and called it her BFF. Her husband kissed her and said, "Thank you so much. You are such a gift. You are a friggin' hot, luscious wad of YUM." And she started to believe him. When she didn't believe him, she slathered on lube and had sex anyway. Lo and behold, Christine enjoyed herself more and more.

She started to turn the lights on, or have sex during the daytime when lights weren't even an option. She felt TERRIBLY insecure about her body. So, she looked up into her husband's eyes. She chose to see her body through him.

Wow.

Anytime she felt those feelings again, she just focused on his face and his eyes. She let them speak truth to her. And Christine had to face all of the lies she had been believing.

Wow.

She stopped trying to suck in her stomach and sit up tall during nookie, to avoid her extra post-pregnancy stomach/breasts to look all waddy, flappy, scarred and funky. No matter what angle her body made, Michael's face lit up. His eyes rolled back into his head. Truth. Truth. Truth. Christine was smokin' hot.

So, in an attempt to keep moving forward in her sex life with more ~~what the hell was she thinking?~~ genuine accountability, she declared the very first Sexperiment on her blog.

Christine ~~likes~~ loves sex. Christine loves her body and loves to share her body. Christine is done talking in the third person now.

What do you want out of February? Are you ignoring February? I have felt what most of you are feeling. Not all of it, but most. I get it. Hear me - truly listen. Don't treat me like I treated my really wise friend. Be willing to try. What goals do you want to set for yourself?

No matter your plan for our month-o-debauchery, if you struggle with any area of sex, you need to start caring for your mind and body right now. You need to start stating truth right now. You need to sit in the bath and caress your body and see your beauty right now. You need to imagine yourself being really, really brave sexually - right now. You need to find some enthusiasm, even if it's mixed with fear and anxiety. Yup. Right now.

I feel you. I'm right there with you. I have walked it. Let me help you try. You deserve it. This is for you!

(photo by Jesse Therrien, used with permission)

January Parent Coaching

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 20:42:00 +0000

I am planning my January calendar and now taking Parent Coaching appointments. If you are interested, please look at my schedule below and shoot me an email at christinemoers@hotmail.com. General information can be found here.

For some feedback on how I coach to meet everyone's individual needs, check out what "Who Let This Happen?" had to say about grounding herself as well as helping her child; and how "A Wordy Mom" found connection with her daughter's trauma and started to see herself in the process.

January 2012
"Office Hours"

Times are Central Standard Time. The last hour mentioned on any day means that I could start an appointment at that time and finish an hour later. I do already have a few appointments scattered, so times are never guaranteed until you hear back from me and I receive payment. These are simply the times I set aside for coaching:

Mondays: 1 pm - 8 pm (the 16th is not available)
Tuesdays: 6 pm - 8 pm (the 31st is not available)
Wednesdays: 6 pm - 8 pm
Thursdays: 1 pm - 8 pm

I am in love with Parent Coaching, and continue to be blown away by the amazing people I'm partnering with as we survive and thrive in all of the chaos. Let me know if I can ever be a help to you!

Where is my blog?

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 21:36:00 +0000

Ya' know how when you wake up and your blog is gone?

Okay, so not all of you do. Well, let me explain ...

In the past several years I have had two times I have walked in only to discover my blog is no longer there. Gone. Like GONE gone.

Today was one of those days. It goes really well.

I usually take a long deep breath, fix me some coffee, sit down after putting on my warm socks and begin to assess the situation.

Or it goes NOTHING like that.

There is some cursing, which causes the cats to pee right where they stand before climbing a wall. I can't make coffee as I'm too busy searching all over kingdom come to figure out what-the-frigga-schmicka happened. So ... that's ~~causing me to pee right where I stand before climbing a wall~~ not helping. My children slowly wake and come out of their rooms in a belly crawl, hoping to avoid any secondary fire.

At which point, I finally decided to get on the phone with GoDaddy.

Yes, I'm still with GoDaddy. After all the hub-bub recently over their support of SOPA, I decided to wait it out and see how things landed.

I hear that people have crap service with the big G-Daddy. I have voiced my disapproval over sexism in ads. Yet, in that, I have also had a fabulous experience. Since I recently obtained my dot com, I decided to move everything over to them, keep it in one place and wait out the media storm to see where I landed.

To do that, I had to move stuff from the service I did have (overseen by Google) and it was a nightmare. It was the most un-user-friendly experience of my life. After sending emails (NO way to contact an actual person for that process), holding my mouth just right, cooking up a witch's brew and raising a rabbit only to chop off it's foot for good luck ... my dot net was finally in the hands of GoDaddy.

Forward to this morning. I had the most lovely woman help me at GoDaddy. Like - LOVELY. Customer support people already have the crappiest job on the planet. Throw in customer support for technical web things, where you mostly deal with people who don't have a flying flip what they're doing ... and I'm guessing the turnover is higher than the guys who pump septic tanks. Here I was, wanting to pull my hair out, wanting to just scream at her, "WHERE THE HELL IS MY BLOG???"

She was kind. She was soft. She was supportive. She emailed me directions on how to alleviate the problem, but then as I opened the email she said, "Now, I'm going to walk you through it." And she did. It wasn't super simple. Could I have done it myself? Probably. But having her on the phone in case I jacked something up - priceless.

Oh, oh, oh ... she did this other really cool thing. When she had to put me on hold to check on something, she would say, "I'll be right back," and then clarify, "I mean, it could take me 3-4 minutes to get this done." Um. WOW! Didn't have to sit there on hold, wondering if we got disconnected, wondering if I should hang up. Wondering if it was all a giant punk and my friends and family were video taping me.

She let me know that it very well could take 24-48 hours for things to fully function as we needed them to. This wasn't their fault to begin with and she apologized to me for the delay! I wasn't thrilled that I might be down for a day or two. I wasn't doing jumping jacks that my Parent Coaching info would be cut off for a bit. But she made me feel appreciated and seemed to share my pain.

Super, super nice.

So, there you go. Crisis averted. GoDaddy comes out as the hero (or at least the super sweet gal who helped me, whose name I can't remember but said she's going to try to check out my blog on her own time this week). You there, nice lady. You were a peach. That feeling that happens when you cannot find the 1700+ posts that represent the last six years of your life ... you made that feeling better.

I thank you. My children thank you. My spouse who would've come home to the devil incarnate ... he thanks you, too. You saved a home and a marriage today. You deserve a cookie.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 10:27:00 +0000

The picture is titled "Our Very Special Moment Together." This is RE, and he was nine days old.

(photo by Ruth, used with permission)

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

Happy New Socks!

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 16:19:00 +0000

Well, hello there, 2012!

You are going to be spectacular.

I have big plans to enjoy every inch of you. I'm going to keep adding to my Backward Bucket List by being present, and sucking in the mundane so I don't miss the fabulous in the middle of it.

I am going to soak up the intimacy of my marriage. I will roll around in this magical thing we have created over almost two decades.

I'm going to look forward to jacking up as a parent, because it's one more opportunity to teach my children how to repair a disconnect from another human.

I'm going to turn 40, and smooch it smack on the lips. Maybe give it a little tongue.

I'm going to celebrate new socks and take pictures of myself and put them on the internet, because that is fun and weird - which makes it all the more fun!

Unashamedly.

I love who I am and who I am becoming.

A gift from a stranger

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 10:23:00 +0000

My blog has always been a dot net.

The dot com equivalent belonged to a man in Canada. I wrote to him several years ago, letting him know that I would be interested in buying welcometomybrain.com if he was ever selling. I never heard back. C'est la vie.

In August, he contacted me out of the blue.

"I never replied and for that, I am sorry. I wouldn't have said yes as I had big plans for it at the time."

"I am writing to you now to let you know that my ownership of the domain name is due to expire" ... "I will not renew it."

"Let me know if you would like me to do anything specific to make sure it gets transfered to you and I will do so" ... "you've done really good with the title (and kept it up all this time), you deserve it."

A virtual stranger. We've watched each other from a distance for many, many years. Gifting me something that had value. Honoring a person he has never met.

So, on the day of the 262nd Magical Milk Pic, Welcome to My Brain Dot Com became mine.

There is good in the world. There is kindness. There is thoughtfulness. There is connection. Today I, again, say thank you, A.B. for your gift. I hope to make it to Canada one of these days so I can buy you a cup of coffee and wrap my arms around you in a grateful embrace.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 10:24:00 +0000

"That's a boob, on the road ;)"

(photo by Kayla, used with permission)

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

Crazy Fast Black Bean Soup

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 10:19:00 +0000

As we cleanse from our holiday splurges, I look for meals that are fast and packed with goodness. Here's a favorite.

Crazy Fast Black Bean Soup

6 TB olive oil
small bag of baby carrots
6 celery stalks
1 bell pepper
3 onions
4 large cloves of garlic
2 cartons of veggie broth
4 cans black beans

With the larger produce, just quarter or cut down enough to make blending easier.

In a blender or Vitaminx, throw in the carrots, celery and bell pepper with enough broth to keep things moving. Mix til smooth - as long as it takes. Pour into giant soup pot. Back to the blender, throw in the onions and garlic with a little bit of the broth (I always find myself doubling the garlic, cause I'm obsessed). Mix til smooth. Throw all of that in the pot along with the olive oil. Bring to a simmer, cover and walk away for about ten minutes.

Rinse the beans and throw those in. Let simmer, cover and walk away for about another ten minutes. Then mush up the beans as much as you can with a potato masher. Salt and pepper to taste.

From my brain to yours

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 10:23:00 +0000

Wishing you and yours a fantabulous holiday season,
form of ... a shrinky dink.

You can't lose Christmas, Ralphie

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 16:45:00 +0000

We have a law in our home. It applies to all persons, regardless of their history of trauma and endless list of survival behaviors. It was created by dictators with no democratic hope for change or removal. It goes a little something like this:

You can't lose Christmas.

That's it. No details. No exceptions. Period. Finito. That's that.

The same goes for birthdays.

I have literally said to my children, "You can burn the house down. We will move into a hotel until the house is rebuilt. We will collect insurance money, rebuy gifts and still have Christmas. Because you can't lose Christmas."

"But what if they broke their brother's DS?"

You can't lose Christmas.

"Wait. There is not an inch of our house NOT covered in urine and/or feces!"

You can't lose Christmas.

"My son called me a b****!"

Yup. One of my kids called my husband that last night (um, yeah - we couldn't help chuckling). You can't lose Christmas.

"You don't get it. My kid actually poisoned the dog."

It is horrific. Yes. Their trauma is horrific. And repair work can and should be done for the sake of their hearts. Part of that? It goes like this:

You can't lose Christmas.

Of course, this goes for whatever your major celebration is: Hanakah, Kwanza, Solstice, birthday, fill-in-the-blank.

Before I go any further, let me state that for you as a parent it is going to rip your guts inside out. You are going to hear a voice echoing in your head from some family member (or yourself) that says, "If I had ever done something like that, I wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week or would've been grounded for a month of Sundays!" You are going to feel like you are letting your child get away with something.

In those moments there are a few things I keep in mind to help me calm and remember what is truly going on.

Trauma has jacked with the brains of our kids. In a stressful moment/week/season they get stuck in a part of their brain that was meant to only be visited on occasion, in extreme circumstances. Our kids also find themselves regressed emotionally and developmentally in those times. They can be, quite literally, a three-year-old in a 12-year-old body.

Imagine a three year old kicking and biting and hitting two days before Christmas. Throwing toys and scratching up the family dining room set. Having a massive tantrum. Would we take Christmas away? Nope. That's crazy talk. A three year old cannot understand the magnitude of what they're doing when they feel out of control. We would redirect in the moment. When they are calm, we would reconnect with them and give them an opportunity to do the same. That is how we heal and guide young children. Our kids need the exact same thing. There is a reason they do these crazy things that are just so beyond description. They are camped in a part of their brain that wanted to kick them out long ago.

Family celebrations and holidays are an opportunity to imprint into their minds and hearts: you are a part of this family. Period. Finito. You can never lose that.

Personally, this makes me angry. If anger is a miscue for what is really going on inside of me, then I have to admit that it makes me feel ... hmmm ... powerless? As though I lack authority in my own home? I have this overwhelming desire to make sure that my kids know just how BAD their behavior was. So (in my head), my reaction to cursing should be somewhat extreme. My reaction to destruction of property or violence should be over-the-top. That is my default. That feels like the right thing to do.

You can't behave this way and cause such utter havoc in a home and still get Christmas? Right?

RIGHT?

It's the way almost all of us were raised. It's the way our parents were raised. It didn't cause more damage to many of us, because we received and maintained that vital nurturing and connection in the earliest years. We could handle some very authoritarian and militant responses from parents, because we had a trust in them. We believed we would be taken care of. We were functioning on top of a base that had been built years before.

Our children are trying to function on quick sand.

They don't believe they deserve celebrations. They don't believe they deserve a family and stability and genuine love. They assume, all the time, that the bottom is going to drop out again. So, they take what little control they do have. They go ahead and try to sabotage the good. At least they can decide when it happens. In their minds, that's something.

"But if we do this, we aren't teaching our kids right from wrong. They'll think what they did was okay."

Really? When was the last time your child became dysregulated and gave you a back rub because they didn't know right from wrong? They have got the right-from-wrong thing down to a SCIENCE!

"But they'll think I'm okay with it!"

Again ... why do you think they did it in the first place? They KNOW that most humans are not okay with it. When you stay therapeutic, stay calm and in control, continue to create a space where they can be heard even when speaking through behaviors ... you are finally teaching them the thing they don't believe. Some adults can be trusted. Some love can be safe. THAT is where the magic happens.

Otherwise, when we enter that battle and begin the snowball of consequences, we are feeding the shame. You are not a bad person for doing that. You are HUMAN for doing that. I've done it a gazillion times, myself. Because I'm human, too.

And do you know what makes it even harder? We don't see the shame. We don't see the hurt many times. We see anger and narcissism on crack. It looks like our children don't care. They don't care what we give them. They don't care what is taken away. Or we see rage. Manipulation. Sass. Or we see ALL of that, depending on the day!

The more aloof your child appears, the more they are trying to hide their pain. The more angry your child appears, the more they are trying to hide their fear. The things your child yells at others is a direct reflection of the very things they believe about themselves. Sit with that. For your own sake, and to keep breathing right now, just sit with it. Do not beat yourself up. Just sit. Absorb. Take a moment to take care of yourself before you move forward, even in your reading and thinking.

When we know better, we do better. And messing up in parenting is like GOLD! Sometimes it does more good than if you'd rocked it in the first place. No ... really.

If you have already told your kid they have lost Christmas, just fix it. Walk in and say, "Ya' know, I've been thinking. I realize that you have been feeling stressed. You're actually trying to talk to me with how you are behaving, and I have been stressed too - so I wasn't listening! Geeez. What a mess, huh? Well, I'm sorry. I totally messed up. Did you know grown-ups mess up? Well, you do now. Cause I blew it. Could I have a do-over? When I said you lost Christmas, I made a mistake. In fact, I would like to make a law in our home: you can't lose Christmas. Is it cool with you if we make that law?"

When you mess up and fix it and reconnect, you do amazing things toward healing in your child. It. is. gold.

Okay, okay, okay. I say all of that to also say this:

I get it.

This sucks.

So, what are you doing for you? "Do not focus on your child's behavior all the time. Do not become obsessed." Find you again. Take care of you. Keep Christmas in place, and find a way to love on your own heart and your own mind. Step away from the trauma. Let it carry on while you carry yourself. Five minutes here and there.

Minutes well spent.

Make sure everyone has their Christmas, everyone has their family ... even if it doesn't look like what we always dreamed.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 13:16:00 +0000

"Taken downtown Fort Worth at Sundance Square. We were participating in a Breastfeeding Flashmob of sorts."

(photo by DFW Momma Photography, used with permission)

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

... and start all over again

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 19:14:00 +0000

The last week and a half has been pretty dark and dank for me.

The weather has been continuously overcast. There is a reason I prefer to live this far south. I love the sun. It chocks me full of Vitamin D. It does awesome things for my mood.

I have been working through some heavy grief. When you open a door to pain, it's amazing how other unresolved sources come pouring out. You can't stop it. You have to ride it and allow it. Work through it.

My brain and my heart have each had much to process. It has brought me down. One of "those times." The tough ones.

In it, though, I kept reminding myself of its shelf life. That grief is a process and a journey and doesn't always stay where it is. That the sun will shine again, dang it.

And it did. It always does.

In my sloshing through of this little dark period, I have continued to push myself. I connected with people even when I felt pulled to be a recluse. When I did that, I have had my mind split wide open. My life intersected with other women who truly understood me in ways that many don't. I would have missed those moments and those connections if I had not nudged myself against the darkness.

The dreariness lifted, figuratively. When it did, I was already moving forward ...

I practiced vulnerability. I admitted things to people that love me to my core, and they heard me and ... yup, you guessed it ... still love me! I sat in actual sunshine. Like literally - SUNSHINE! I absorbed fascinating conversation with a new addition to my Circle of Awesome. I ate pad thai. I put on my new favorite skirt that was repurposed from an old AC/DC tshirt I found at a thrift store. A perfect example of new life springing from old. I sat with one of my children and reminded them of their worth. Again. For the millionth time.

I went outside in MORE sunshine and gave my youngest child the gift of playing with my iPhone by asking her to take my picture.

It felt so good.

I feel so good.

These words were written 75 years ago by Dorothy Fields, and they still kick ars to this day:

Nothing's impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start all over again.

May I coach you into the holidays?

noreply@blogger.com (Christine) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 16:02:00 +0000

I have not officially announced it, but yes indeedy - I am parent coaching.

What I'm discovering is that most people aren't necessarily needing help every week. Yet, the occasional booster is what keeps them going. It's also the holidays and my husband is about to find himself enjoying his Christmas break from teaching. What better way for him to celebrate than by being completely in charge of the kids and the house while I chat it up with other parents? AND ... at a discount!

So, Monday, December 19 and Tuesday, December 20, I will be offering one hour Parent Coaching appointments for just $30 each.

UPDATE: All of my holiday discount appointments are full.

You may find more detailed information here, on how to land yourself on my schedule after Christmas.

Let me know if I can be a help to you!

(photo by Curtis Fletcher, used with permission)