Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015

Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.

So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years, but it's just time to move forward.

Reflections on picking up all your crap and setting it down someplace new Apr 03, 2006

Once, while moving from Texas to Washington, my dad told me, the fragile 13 year old leaving everythying she’d ever known, that home is where your crap is. It was my first large move and I thought he was on crack. Of course, every thirteen year old thinks her parents are ALWAYS on crack.

And some of ‘em are.

The Art of Saying No Apr 02, 2006

When do we lose the ability to say No? Why is it that my 17 month old already mastered the skill and ability to make her priorities and I, the “grown-up” can’t? It’s a doosy here at the Flinger’s house. “Want to take a nap?” “NO” “Want to eat?” “NO!” “Want to watch Elmo?” “NO NO NO!”

‘Cept she means yes. Ah, well, she’s working on it.

Still, I wish I had her ability to make decisions. I often find myself in positions to say no. If I knew what was good for my family and my own mental health, I’d say no. If I’d remember that I actually DON’T like skinny bitch, if I’d remember I have a billion commitments already, if I’d just say NO to that last task they asked of me.. I just might not be the frazzled over-stretched professional mommy that I am.

Also, if i could say “NO” to that nightly chocolate, I might fit into my jeans.

What they say is true: Children really do teach you everything you need to know.

Tap Tap Tap.. is this thing on? Apr 01, 2006

Helloooooo. Hi, how’s it going? I sure did miss y’all. How ‘bout I start out with a complaint…

Verizon is currently on my shit list. I’ve had two recorded messages per day saying my Internet is ready to go and to use the installation kit that came via UPS to activate it. (I really should’ve listened to the “UPS” part before I tacked the FedEx guy yesterday in my maternity camisole and sweat pants and accused him of hating the likes of a lonely, not-Wisteria-lane housewife who is still just as desperate if not as pretty.)  I’ve started referring to the recorded voice as the ho-internet-hold-out, since after several phone calls, speaking with the leasing office and said tackling of UPS man, I still have no Internet.

But howdy-ho from my secret lover, Starbucks.  Thank the gods for wifi at hip coffee joints that charge a small fortune for a sandwich and have very pretty things to distract me. Seriously. Thank the gods.

How ‘bout some boring details of the move? No? Nah, I’m not up for it, either. Thanks to some great friends and a great husband, it’s over and that’s somethin’ to blog about.

I missed you bitches. I did. If I ever talk about not blogging again, please someone kick my face and remind me how much I don’t like not blogging (and yes, Mr. Guston, I just used a double negative. I really was paying attention in High School English but sometimes the dramatic effect is just worth it.)

I don’t wanna sign off but I have to. My daughter just took off with small espresso beans and I’m pretty sure if we’re not taken down for stealing, I’ll be damn sorry I let her run out of the store with chocolate coated caffeine. That’s for AFTER nap, honey. Now, give mommy a shop-lifted bean like a good girl and let’s run the entire way home.

Because we can.