Fixing Mrs. Flinger Feb 20, 2015
I'm currently working on this website. I want to add back the links to blogs I love, some ways to find content easier, and put in archive, at last, some of the ancient articles. Come back to see updates.
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,...
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...
It’s complicated Jul 05, 2007
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...
Wordless Wednesday 3: The First Parade Jul 04, 2007
Leaving the house: Like Indiana Jones, if he pooped his pants and yelled “ME DO IT” Jul 03, 2007
Like everything else in my life as of late, I started to post a “Watch us leave the house: IN REAL TIME” a while back. Then, I dunno, the kids need things. My Mom needs things. I have to pee. Someone throws herself on the ground for a fit and hits her knee yelling, “I BONK! I BONK! I BOOONNK!” I sigh, stand up, and completely give up writing about how it’s impossible to accomplish anything in one sitting. Ironic.
So, instead of real time, here are pieces of “The Flingers Leaving” filed under “So you think you want two?”
5:00 AM- Festivities begin! The baby feeds, grunts, whimpers and burps for an hour.
6:00 AM- Mr. Flinger gets up to head to work. Scratch that, Mr. Flinger lets snooze go off for forty minutes before being forty...