There’s this fantastic thing about blogging. (And why I’ll never stop, you silly, I might just need to go to a corner and think really hard about my content from time to time. Or! I know! Post long run-on sentences and questions. Always with the questions, this one is…) It’s the feedback you people give even when it’s ... say ... one, no two, o’clock in the morning.
Here, let’s make it all official like with bullets. BULLETS!
Sometimes I think I should just quit blogging. Not because I suck (for some reason you said I don’t) or because it sucks or because it sucks too much time out of my life (which has been a recent theme, by the way) but because I don’t think I have any new words to add. Like this? Is exactly what I wanted to say. And this?... Read more
Synopsis: 24 hours to live it,
4 hours to gather in to a post, approximately 8 minutes to enjoy.
A day in the life of a Flinger: Twenty-Four Hours.Read more
I’m writing this as one child is in the swing and the other repeats, “I’m hungray I’m hungaray” to the TV. I just wanted to preface this because, as you know, I am by no means the best mother in the world and you should take absolutely-f’in-everything I say with a grain of salt. ‘mmMK?
I’ve been pretty open about how difficult my transition to motherhood was. I had a hard time connecting with LB. She was colicky, she screamed 6 to 8 hours a day and slept, if we were lucky, 2 hours at a time for nine months. It wasn’t the image I had in mind and was even a little bitter at other moms for not telling me how shitty being a mom was.... Read more
The BoyChild will not let me set him down. What-so-ever. At all. Nada. Zilch. No-go. W.T.F. This means I have about thirty-two minutes at the end of the day when Mr. Flinger gets here to do bills, clean, make dinner, eat dinner, pee, shower, and workout. Oh! And type! And write thank you cards! And give myself a pedicure because OY. Did I mention Oy? OY.
This too shall pass. I know I know. And if I was really obnoxious and deeply troubling I might say something totally gross like, “I just enjoy this time because one day he’ll be fighting me off and I’ll miss the days of carrying him around in the sling every goddamn minute of the day.”
In other news, I took a pregnancy test. YES! That’s right! Internet, I made it an entire... Read more
And why I haven’t done your web design yet. Because SOME OTHER PEOPLE made me drink this weekend. And somehow there was photographic evidence. With my camera. (Which explains why there are 192 photos in the set. Drunk photography is almost as fantastic as drunk blogging.) Or, maybe, it’s “192 reasons I start the South Beach Diet Monday.” Because? I didn’t hold the camera the whole time. And I’m in some of them. And, well. Until I look like my icon, I should really cut back on the poke cake.
And now you will insert a big long mushy paragraph... Read more
Anyone gone poop with their baby in the sling? Anyone? Anyone? No? Just me then?
I have a blind date this morning. What’s that? You thought blind dates ended when you got married? Apparently they don’t. instead, they just turn in to blind PLAYDATES instead of blind MANDATES. Apparently there’s this thing that moms do that is such a compulsive behavior, they can’t help themselves. “You know, I know a mom with a toddler and a newborn who also likes walks on the beach and sunsets! You’d just love her! You’re perfect for each other.” And off they go to invite you both to their house for lunch. There is some awkwardness as you glance in the mirror realizing you badly need to cover your gray hair and your muffin-top is a wee bit accentuated in that pair of pre-pregnancy capris but then you remind yourself this is not a... Read more