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.
Born Again and I don’t mean just my hootch Oct 02, 2007
Hi! Did you miss me? I missed you. God, did I miss you. I felt it was time to re-birth the blog. My love life and being a born-again-virgin aside, I have a story. I wrote about it. Wanna hear it? Too bad. I’m telling you anyway.
I started blogging in the fall of 2003. Two Thousand Three. Wow. Some senior is graduating high school this year and telling me he/she was in Jr. High when I started blogging. I almost believe it. One masters degree, two children, three houses and four years later, here I am.
I’ve recently come to know even more wonderful writers. I found the Seattle Mom’s blog community. I met (in person!) Andrea. I’ve met several other women in real life, plan on meeting even more, and I love it here. The only trouble is, maybe I love it here a little too much.
While I was kicking myself for not making it to the lists of the sites that I adore and wish I was half as eloquent as, my son gained ten pounds, my daughter got potty trained and my husband got promoted. A friend had a baby. Another friend kicked cancer in the ass. And still others bought houses and saw their children turn another year older. Life was going on all around me while I was wishing I had more computer time.
It seems wrong, doesn’t it?
It’s easy to get sucked in to the run of life. It’s easy to make the coffee, start off the day caffeinated and run like a banshee until you, your family, or your coffee pot tells you it’s time to stop. (Do banshees run? What the hell is a banshee anyway? And why do I use this term so damn often?) I thought it was time to take a collective wine break and sit with my feet up for a bit. Which is exactly what I didn’t do.
There will be a few sites launched this month. I’m thrilled, excited, and just short of piss-myself-giddy. Thank god I stopped at the pissing myself part. I’m currently down ten pounds from when I asked you to watch me cuss and moan as I ran. I’m developing a love for red wine. DRY wed rine, people. In fact, I’m having some now, why do you ask?
Baby O is 15 pounds and starting to roll over. He’s a freakin’ joy to be around. The grins, my god, the smiles and laughter. My daughter is hilarious. My husband has a nice ass. I forgot all of this about until I took some time to appreciate them. My goal now is to not forget. Especially about that ass.
So, feel free to poke around a bit. You’ll see a new addition: The activities for kids area. I thought, maybe, I could share some of the things we do around here when it’s raining out. Don’t be completely shocked when I upload a video of us sitting in our PJ’s at 4pm watching sesame street and eating chocolate. Hopefully it’ll be a tad bit more inspirational than that. I bought a book to help. See? Arts. And CRAFTS. People, I’m Mary Fucking Popins.
Thank you for always being here. Or for being here when google reader says you should be. Or when the kids are passed out from the alcohol poisoning after eating the Purell they chewed on to buy you a few more spare minutes. I know how precious time is these days. I’m glad you share them with me.
Much gooey and fluffy love and shit,
Mrs. Flinger (who is glad to be back)
P.S. You should see something like the image below. If not, please refresh your browser and then let me know what the heck-fire you’re doing to screw things up. Or, maybe just let me know there’s a problem. That’s what I really meant. Right. That’s what I mean.
Oohhh! Looksy! I’m just in time! I saw these tweets going ‘round with some of my favorite tweeters and just realized I’m JUST IN TIME (excuse the caps, I blame the wine) for this! (also, the exclamation points)
So, delurk, damnit. I’ll give you a pony.