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.
Sometimes I’m heroic, mostly I’m just “ick”. Feb 11, 2007
It’s really not what you think. I’m really not off contemplating The World At Large and finding solutions to global hunger and poverty. No. I’m actually knee deep in grading and laundry and baby-nesting and am not here right now blogging. You don’t see me. See? Not here. But maybe in a week or so I will be able to breathe and have that feeling of accomplishment when I actually got something finished and remembered that I’m blessed and happy and whole. Right now I don’t feel very whole so I’m off finding wholeness while I work.
If that makes any sense at all. And if it doesn’t? Well, it’s ok because it doesn’t to me either.
I got an email today alerting me to the fact that someone nominated my very unlikely blog in The Bobs. (Someone from the Mom group, I think? I suspect as much..) Anywho, I’m not ungrateful or anything, I swear. It’s so sweet. Really, made me all warm and giddy inside like the lovely fudge brownie I fed CB an hour ago. (YUM… Brownie…. Which is probably why I already look like this at 22 weeks… But I digress…) It’s just that I believe I’m not qualified since I have just a little over the alloted daily visitors. (I have no clue why you people come back and listen to me rant about things but I love you for it.) And that’s ok, I think the new blogs just getting started deserve some love, too. As well as all of these blogs, no matter how big or little. So thanks, really, but please run and nominate a few other bloggers who have wonderful blogs and are amazing writers and who don’t post about their small mental breakdowns; Or if they do, it’s so beautiful and well written, you kind of want to have a mental breakdown with them.
I’m up for company if you’re in to that.
And then I was hit on the head by a most unlikey source: Vougue Feb 08, 2007
On Tuesday Mr Flinger and I had something we do not get the luxury of very often; Time. With LB in school now two full days a week, we decided to have lunch together, just the two of us, like we did when I was pregnant with LB and he worked 15 minutes from home. It’s been over two and a half years since we’ve had this set up. We decided to take advantage of it.
We sat at Borders reading magazines quietly, each of us able to peek up from our article, smile, discuss a point or two and continue reading. We decided to reach for magazines with much fluff and little content since we were indulging ourselves for the afternoon. He chose a men’s motorcycle periodical and I picked up the latest Vouge. What I did not know, was what a profound impact my choice would make on me. One that would reach far beyond the hour and fifteen minutes we had to share together.
There, in between the perfume samples and scantily clothed women, I found an article about a woman who escaped a Muslim family and more than a few civil wars. The writer sits down to interview Ayaan Hirsi Ali and tells a story of epic heights. Her life, she tells us, is woven around survival and struggle. She questioned her religion and became more than an outcast; she became Dutch parliament. There are tales of rescuing family from Semolia, of saving a baby hours before his death, of taking children out of lice-ridden environments with algea water and giving them clean clothes and food to eat. It was after reading the excerpt from her new book Infidel that I looked up at Mr. Flinger and began to bawl. I blubbered something about our “fucking granite kitchen counters and the fucking mortgage” and mumbled about how lucky we are to have worries about our jobs and our healthy baby. I muttered on and on between bouts of sniffles and hiccups about how petty my life is and how safe and secure we live and how, amazingly, ungrateful I am for that security. I looked up at him and said, “I have to buy this book.” I was off to search for it and found it minutes later.
I posses now a book so rich and well written, I can not wait to read. It sits and stares at me with authority begging me to log off, come read. Turn off the TV, turn off the images, turn off the music. Come and read. Read about a life you have the great fortune to not experience and about the religions of the world that preach about a god while neglecting the people. Come find some perspective and leave the dishes/laundry/blogging behind. Come, it calls to me, and learn something. Perhaps there are bigger issues than those in my own head.
I need to listen. I need to go read. I need to go and find something bigger than myself. How long this will take? I can not say. A week? A month? Three months? I’d like to take some time and remember that there is actual suffering in the world and that being caught up with work and daycare and bills is not struggle. It’s luxury.
Because SPAM does more than clog up your arteries Feb 07, 2007
I just installed Akismet for EE. I’m waiting to see if it’ll stop the parade of crap I received in my inbox. Because, while I’m all for higher education, University of Phoenix seems to REALLY enjoy talk of one’s hayhay, or at least leaving comments about their school in posts containing the words “Discharge” and “Boob juice.” I was hoping they’d at least find something education related to advertise on.
I’ve been asked about SPAM by a few (hundred) people lately it seems. So far, Akismet seems like the best plug-in around. You can also find other blog platforms here.
And now, I’d like to post CB’s heartbeat. Because not all things suck.
Oh My God, I am the “Days of our Lives” of blogland Feb 05, 2007
Let’s say, hypothetically, that you used to read this website and then stuff happened and you didn’t get to read much. Then you came back and Lo! I was STILL posting about my sex-life (and lack-there-of) and how my child still isn’t sleeping. I’m like a really bad soap opera minus the hot men and women that can’t act but have so much Botox their eyes pop when they smile.
I tuned in, briefly, during Jr. High to Days of Our Lives when I would visit my friend Mercy at her house in the summer. She was a complete DOUL addict and would watch it religiously. Then I grew up, went to college, and had roommates that watched it. The first time I came walked in on them watching DOUL, the exact same characters were in the exact same predicament. They seemingly aged “three days” in the course of 12 years.
I used to wish my life was like that. Now I realize it is. In the worst possible way.
It’s been almost two years since I started this website with a post about my boobs. I then followed it up quickly with the time I peed on a use pregnancy test and completely freaked out. Remember that? Oh, gawd, how did you forget? Then I wrote about how we never have s.e.x and how clueless I am with a tweezer.
And does any of that sound remotely familiar?
Conversations on the Couch: Friday Night Edition Feb 03, 2007
Me: “You know, I actually know people that try to have s.e.x multiple times a week.”
Him: In complete disgust “Why? Are they trying to have kids?”
Me: Laughing “Because they love each other?”
Him: “Oh, well, good for them.”
Me: “I know I know, it’s kind of like High School right now.”
Him: “No, we got a lot further in High School.”
If I can’t take drugs, at least one of us better Feb 01, 2007
Small note to poison control: Obviously if I’m calling you because I’m afraid my child had a double dose of cough medicine, I am not one to dope her up regularly. And yes, of course the medicine is up in a cabinet that she can not reach. Who am I? Britney Spears? No, obviously I was standing right there with her when she pulled a fast one and grabbed the bottle and started chugging it like the fans at an Aerosmith concert. And is it really necessary to ask me if she’s actually sick? Because no, of course she’s not, I just need a few hours and thought a double dose would take care of the nap-strike she’s on.
Suddenly it didn’t seem like a bad idea. I mean, if I can’t take drugs one of us should. And, well, she *does* have a runny nose.
Am I the only one slightly giddy at the sight of a runny nose because that means *maybe* she will nap today?
Am I the only one that then gets flaming pissed off when she continues to jump in her crib and yell for an hour when she doesn’t nap?
I know she needs The Nap. She is one cranky mofo without it and I’m a little worse for wear when the mister arrives home. Also, there is work. They actually pay me to log in and help people learn things. And then there are the bills and that garbage that makes our house smell like butt.
Somewhere along the way, I also have to grow a kid. Which is seeming to be more and more elusive these days. Kid? What kid? We’re doing this again?
So, see, it’s not that I’m a bad mom. I’m just… hopeful ... when she gets a little sick that maybe her body needs rest. Maybe she’ll take a nap. Maybe I can have two hours to myself this afternoon.
Then again, maybe pigs will fly out my ass.