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.

The day hell froze Jul 27, 2007

Belonging (Or why I’m ok that I’m not in Chicago this weekend) Jul 26, 2007

#Depth and Faith

I find myself in an odd place in life. Having grown up in a church, raised with like-minded people who could recite the Apostle’s Creed by heart, there was always an abundance of people around. There was an automatic system for support, or “fellowship” as the churchy people say. I left the Catholic church for a more “progressive” church during college and found other like-minded people again. There was a social network readily available. But most importantly, there was some being in my brain, this “God” that I would speak to. I was never truly alone.

These ideals finally fell off, after a few years of questions and unsatisfying answers and even more unfortunate run-ins with “God’s People”, and I finally laid to rest the idea that God is there. I got married, I made children, I made friends outside the church. I always thought one day we’d go back to The Church, if not because of a belief in a supreme being, because there is a group of people with family values just waiting to be friends with your children. I thought this is exactly what I’d want for my children. I’d let them make their own mind up later, as adults, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least know the bible stories and eat the goldfish at Sunday School with other people their own age. You know, people that wouldn’t throw the F-bomb around like their mama.

A few more years passed and we moved to a new location. After being so fortunate to have found a few friends who shared our same values (namely, making fun of other people when drinking beer but also being compassionate enough to not do it to their faces. Ok, I jest. Well, unless you worked with us around the year 2000. ‘is all I’m saying…) I thought we’d never be THAT lucky again. I mean, what are the odds that you’d find some regular great people who didn’t attend mass every Sunday or ask you why you haven’t accepted Jesus in to your heart?

As it is, we did find some more people who are just like us. And again, they’re around during some life changes in our family, or in theirs, and during illnesses and health. And I find myself thinking how lucky we are. Lucky because I don’t believe in a Divine Hand who guides us to each other. Lucky because I don’t believe I have to have a faith to be a good person. Lucky because there are other people out there who love their kids but are able to say, “What the hell! (S)he is going to have a short life if (s)he keeps this up!” and everyone can nod because yes, of course, I’ve said the same things.

And still, sometimes, on days like today, when I’m running and my two children are quiet and there is peace and Lake Washington is gleaming in the morning sun as the mist rises off the Cascades in the place we worked seven years to return to, I find myself thanking something. Or someone. Or Whoever. Maybe it’s because old habits die hard. Maybe it’s because my body has created life but has never felt more alive than it did at that moment. Maybe it’s because in the entire whole wide world, I find people who I can share this life with, this very short and wonderfully mysterious life with and who are exactly the people I’d want to be around at this time. And I realize that there are people, those in real life and those I may never meet from the Internet, who have shared parts of me that nobody else ever has and they mean so much more to me than a room full of strangers singing the words projected on a screen in front of the congregation.

When I left the church I found all of you. I found my real friends. I found my own way, my own life, my own happiness. Once I stopped looking, I finally found belonging.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday Jul 25, 2007

(another view here)

iTunes giftcard goes to Kathie for her entry:


Thanks to everyone for their input. I went with a #1 modified A-line cut. Y’all know your stuff!

Virtual Makeover and a GiveAway! *updated with a new style! Jul 20, 2007

#Weght Loss and Body Image

About once a year I get all “PPfffttt I hate my hair. I hate my body. I have nothing to wear and that bitch over there looks great in her A-line layered cut and I look like a mom!” Ok, maybe more than once a year. But I usually only post about it once a year.

This year is a little different. I’ve taken action! I’ve taken photos! I’ve uploaded photos to websites and tried hair on like a teenager with too much time on her hands! (How this is possible, don’t ask, because LB will tell you something about Sesame Street on a loop or some such nonsense, silly girl.)



And here I am as Jennifer Anniston. The resemblance is uncanny!


So, here’s how things are going down as far as I know:

  1. I have a few pictures here, numbered, for you to tell me what you like.
  2. Then, if you have a better idea or want to play along, you simply take this photo and upload it to a virtual makeover site
  3. Submit the new hair to me
  4. I’ll post it here
  5. And we’ll all vote on the best one.
  6. Whoever gets the most votes wins a fifteen dollar iTunes gift certificate.

That’s as good as MONEY. Hellzya!


If you decide to post it on your own site, let me know so I can link to you here. And if you decide to tell other people about it, lemme know so I can link to you and then brag to my husband that the Internet really is a nice place to hang out.

Because right now? I am fully aware I need a makeover. Because while IzzyMom thinks I’m hot (thank you, Izzymom!) I’m runnin’ the head of the awards with my one vote. ONE.


And, well, even LB thinks I need a makeover and coming from someone who wears yogurt in her hair, it seems like a bad sign.


Or! I can be Ellen Belkin, just a lot younger. Ok, a little younger. But less wrinkly thanks to my current sunless state.

(Please note I will not be a soccer mom because of this cut, oh, no, I’m already a soccer mom. I’ll be all actress like! Even if I am 100 years old)



I look JUST like her younger sister, don’t I?


(Post will remain as sticky until voting is over. Voting ends July 25th.)

Wordless Wednesday 4: It’s’ all worth it Jul 18, 2007

#Parenting Siblings#Baby O

P.S. Colleen, this is why you have two.

The post that keeps on postin Now complete with commentary and blogger’s remorse Jul 15, 2007

Time: July 15th 8:10pm

I honestly have no idea how people with two small kids blog. I’m not sure who LB is more jealous of, the computer or her new brother. Either way, any time I try to sit down and write something, let alone something remotely fun or spunky, her little world has some crisis and her brother magically starts screaming. It’s uncanny.

For the last eight weeks I’ve been posting in stages. Stage 1: Make up the title and click “Save Draft”. Walk away from computer to fix meltdown. Stage two: Write something and click Save Draft repeatedly in between a myriad of feeding/helping/entertaining/soothing. This stage could take hours or days. Stage three: edit and scan for punctuation and spelling. (I usually skip stage three these days.) Stage four: hit publish, have no time to actually respond to comments even though I read them, laugh or nod or want to say something oh-so-much like how much I heart you.  Start process all over again.

So tomorrow, Monday, July 16th, I’m going to skip the “draft” save and hit publish every time so you’ll see this post get longer and more complete all day. I’m going to stop mid-sentence, hit publish, and time stamp each attempt at completing one entire post. So come back often, y’all. You’ll watch the post unfold before your very eyes. (ooohhh! ahhhhh! Where’s the popcorn?) I know. It’s earth shatteringly thrilling. Trust me.

time: july 16th 8:30am. typing 1 handed for this leg of post

The title of the reality post is something like “I’m an a$$” or “The unexpected roll of motherhood”. I can only say a$$ because I want to be able to check the box on the blogher ad network that says I don’t cuss. I’m turning over a new leaf here, to be more family friendly. I’ll see if I can do it.

LB interruption #1

9:28 AM

There are parts of motherhood you can expect and parts that you can’t. I expected to be tired. I expected to change diapers and kiss booboos and make dinners. I knew I’d hear the words, “I wuv you mommy” one day and I knew that would make my heart combust.  What I didn’t realize, was my new roll as the mama-a$$. Or, rather, the family donkey.

Picture to come on the next leg… LB interruption #2

Insert Playdate where I actually get both kids out of the house


OH MY GOD I’m boring the crap out of myself. This is why there is a Save Draft button, people. Because live blogging is NOT suspensful OR thrilling. It’s boring as hell. “I picked out the GREEN straw for LB’s milk today! BLAH BLAH BLAHBORRIINNGGBLAHBLAHBLAH Because for real? Having two kids? While I try to make it sound fun! and interesting! and oh-so-exciting with non-stop action! It’s really just “LB, don’t sit on your brother,” “How long has it been since he’s eaten?” “Should we go to the grocery store today or tomorrow?”

My brain is going to implode from the sheer excitement of it all.

So, instead of the post I was GOING to write, which turns out isn’t worth its weight in dry dog poop, let’s talk about when you find the time to blog. And if that’s not fun and inspiring, tell me how you manage the load o’ crap two kids requires. Because THAT was my whole point to this long-winded “why don’t you just MAKE YOUR POINT ALREADY” post. I feel like an ass. I mean, really.

Heehaaaawwwww Heeehaaaawwww

Flinger Flight 666 Jul 14, 2007

Welcome aboard Flinger Flight 666. Next destination: Hell.
We’re proud to serve you goldfish and fruitsnacks for your inflight meal. Your movie will be “Elmo’s Potty Time” on a loop. You’re aboard a special flight filled with a scientific experiment where your children have been sleep deprived and starved and are needing your attention.
In case of an emergency, there are no exists.
Thank you for choosing Flinger Airlines.

We were going along just splendidly, or rather as splendidly as one with a new baby could possibly be going along, when BLAMO! The ‘flux hit the house. LB had the flux. We weren’t aware that’s what was going on until well in to my “I hate being a mom OHMYHELL what did we do?!” phase. Once she got on Zantac, life became bearable. A few months later, she started sleeping and a few months after that I uttered the words “Number Two.” And now, here we are. History has a way of repeating itself.

We went to the doctor for Baby O today because this time around we know all the signs. The violent spit-up that comes out his nose. The screaching when he eats. The painful look he gives as he’s eating and pulls away from the food distressed and still starving. And of course, the not sleeping. The Not Sleeping. That’s the symptom we call the doctor for.

Three days ago I wrote a letter to some friends gushing about how much I loved having two kids. “Sure life is hectic and crazy, but I love it! I love that I have children.” When my BFF saw me the next day she said, “So, what were you on when you wrote that?” Then she laughed uncontrollably while repeating my mushy mom sentiments. Apparently, I haven’t gushed much.

Now I remember why the baby stage was so difficult for us. Flux makes you a little wacky. Scratch that.. flux indirectly makes you a little wacky. The not sleeping?  A type of torture used by the military. But still, in the midsts of all that is hell, the last four nights of utter screeching and arguing, amidst the daily tantrums and not napping, amidst all of this, for one tiny moment, a picture was taken.  .....  And this reminds me that in the end, I’m their Mom. And I love it.


Wordless Wednesday: Now with words Jul 11, 2007

Mrs. F. PPffttt. I won’t be able to do my wordless wednesday this week.
Oma:  Why not?
Mrs. F.  I can’t find our condoms. And oh my god, I just told my mom I can’t find our condoms.
Oma: I think they’re under the sink in LB’s bathroom.
Mrs. F.  How in the world do you know THAT?
Oma: I thought it was fruit. Then I saw the label.
Mrs. F: ..... Crawls under rock .......


At least I got the shot for Wordless Wednesday: After a lot of soul searching, for now, our birth control:


*Yes, a baby counts as birth control. Almost as much as the crucifix in my mom’s house. :: shudder thinking of Jesus watching me having S-E-X ::

I don’t suck! The post with all the links… Jul 10, 2007


Surprisingly, you people love to talk vajayjays and beer. Or babies. Or my lack of s.e.x life. Or d) all the above. Which suits me just fine because right now, as of this moment, I have nothing profound. Nada. Oh, sure, I’ve been fawning all over Julia Sweeney lately, and her CD Letting Go of God. I’ve even taken notes, as in Hand Written Notes, in a journal, with a pen, and… paper. I know. What’s paper? But the truth is, the sun, my toddler, my newborn

seven week old and my mother are kicking my ass as of late. The type of ass-whooping that entails falling asleep in the recliner whilst rocking the boy child only to find oneself up as the entire family sleeps muttering cusswords under her breath because why-for-the-love-of-god-am-I-not-asleep-i-am-so-screeewweeeeed-tomorrow.

The good news is, I have been plotting. Or, rather, I’ve been thinking, which lately is the same thing. There will be a competition here. There will be a prize to win. There will be voting. Oh, that’s right.. you’re salivating at the very mention of free things and it’s true, there will be freedom. Freeness. Free. Things. Or, thing.


However, since I’ve neglected my blog community for traveling to exotic, far away places like Bellingham, and Kirkland, and the pool, I wanted to post a thank you and a “RAWK ON” to everyone. Actually, what I wanted to say is WHEE! I DON’T SUCK!

Little Woolgatherings, For The Love, and Colleen all tagged me recently.  (And MGM who tagged me forever ago, and someone else who I’m being just horrid and forgetting right now, but in all fairness, I locked my keys in my car AND forgot my address for the insurance at the hospital, all signs of sleep deprivation, not alcohol usage. I swear.)

I’m thrilled, all giddy-like, that four people like me. Maybe five if you count my Mom. And since I’m totally in blog-crush with a few new reads I found while surfing the Internet at 2am, it’s time to let the cat out of the bag. That’s right. You people don’t suck, either. But the fact that I’m allowed in to your not-sucking part of blogland makes me all warm and fuzzy.

So, here are some more women who rock (or RAWK) and who do not suck:

Whoorl. Seriously? Freaking. Awesome.
Playgroups are not for children. Just reading her tagline had me hooked and I knew I found a BFFOL. (That’s Best Friend Forever On Line. Internet Lingo, yaknow)
Cranky Mamma. Lives in Portland. Has napless child. Writes like one who I’d love in real life, too, and who would laugh about making our toddlers do Yoga.
Sweatpants Mom. I found her through Blogher and thank my lucky add-bar that she popped up. Hilarious and always providing the best post-emmy-award-show evah.
Alpha Baby. With a baby that cute (and practically famous!), she totally rocks the blogworld. Oh, yea, and I get to meet her in person. NanernanerNaner.
And, jeeeze, is it any doubt Mama-C-Ta rocks? No. She’s like the definition of rock.

Then there are the people who always rock, who everyone reads, and who deserve to have massive ammounts of traffic, bloglove, and fame. (Oh! They already do!) 


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It’s complicated Jul 05, 2007

#Parenting Siblings

Things got a little ... complicated this week. It’s not just having two children that makes life… complicated. It’s not just having a preemie that makes life ..... complicated. It’s not just that a two year old is ... complicated.  No, it’s what happens to your body after you go through the miracle of creating an entire human being, growing that person who will one day grow up and be a president of a major corporation or a doctor or a teacher or a data-structure-analizer, after all of the blessed joy of pregnancy, your body totally craps out. It’s .. complicated.

I started bleeding, profusely, after walking around downtown Saturday. This happened for a few days until finally, on Tuesday, I had the bright idea to call the doctor and just make sure this is all kosher. You know, because “I’m about to loose half my brain out my hayhay and, well, is that normal? I’d kind of like to keep that part of my brain. I think.” I explained how I started walking again (oh, it was absolute heaven) and I went two miles on Monday, which correlated to a large ammount of clotting. Clotting. What a horrid word to read on a blog during your lunch break. Anyway, I explained all of this to the nurse who I think made a gasp and said she’d have to talk to the doctor and give me a call back.

About three minutes later, she called saying they were going to put me on Meth. “Meth?” “Yes, it’ll help your uterus shrink. We don’t think you’re having a period. You’re hemorrhaging.”  Apparently, Meth is good for the hayhay? Who knew?

I call my friends who were waiting for LB and I to arrive at their house to play in the backyard and explain that I’ll be going on Meth. We talk for a while, me feeling slightly foggy, what from the days of bleeding and all, swearing the nurse said “METHADONE”. You know? Meth? Not as in “crystal Meth” but regular Meth.

After googling Meth, I called the nurse back a bit appalled. “METH?”  “Yes,” she explained, “Methergine. It helps shrink the uterus after miscarriage or childbirth. You should notice a decrease in the bleeding shortly.” Ahhhh. Methergine.  I totally flunked D.A.R.E.

The problem is, I did notice a slight decrease, as in I’m no longer afraid my arm will get sucked down in to my body and fall out my uterus. But overall? I’m still bleeding. It’s to the point I can no longer stand up for short periods of time. I can’t even get up to fill my daughter’s cup with milk. Or make a bottle. And this? Is ridiculous.

I’m having them put in an IUD next week. This is so our last child. My body isn’t pleased with creating life. Thank god I’m not Catholic anymore.