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.
A post! A post! She’s posting! With free stuff! And exclamation points!! Nov 24, 2007
Hey, could someone pick up the girl in the back? She just fainted. Apparently she didn’t expect Mrs. Flinger to ever post again. But look! I’m here! I’ve been here. Well, I’ve been here, actually. I’ve been there for hours upon hours getting ready for our grand opening. I’ve also been here a lot, too.
It’s totally paid off.
LeanneIam won the challenge. My thanks to everyone of Y’all who participated and made this goal a little closer this holiday season of really bad temptations. (You didn’t think I could do that, did you? HA! I life in the face of long sentences! And punctuation! HA. HA I say!)
And here’s the fun part.. there are things. THINGS to be had. THINGS you can have for FREE. Or, maybe, some blog love and a few clickity clicks. And, in accordance to my blogHer ad policy, I can tell you this: Go here. GOOOooo HEeerrreeeee. There is a very lovely prize basket to be had thanks to these ladies simply by playing a little Seuss-ish game. Seuss! Like the doctor! Not her. But she’s cool, too. (And also up for a freakin’ EMMY, people. AN EMMY. I’m famous by proxy. Well. Sordda.)
It’s easy and fun and really, I know I KNOW how annoying self promotion is, I am fully aware. But I promise not to do it too much. Or, like, ever. Except maybe this time. Here. And Here. And! Oh!! look! HERE.
Don’t forget to go here, too. There’s more freebe giveaways. But do it quick.
And NOW I’m done.
November is Premature Awareness Month Nov 14, 2007
It feels so long ago now, the beeping of the monitors, the worry, the stress. So long since I sent updates from my phone from his NICU bedside. Eons since I spontaneously went in to labor. So long since that first time I held him, two days later.
Vdog’s recount of her son’s birth sounded so much like our own. At the time, you’re alone. You’re guilty. You’re scared. You sit in a room of silence knowing it’s not right. Something is wrong.
In reality, everything is wrong.
We grew to know each beep, each nurse, each procedure. We were there one week and we grew comfortable in an often scary and life altering environment. Some people are not as lucky.
I’ve stopped proceeding Baby O’s actual age with his adjusted age. I usually never mention his prematurity. Often because I almost feel guilty that he’s done so well. At first I was worried, sad, and scared. Now I have a thriving little man. I have a smiley baby. I have my complete family. If I share our NICU experience, I sometimes hear stories so much harder and worse than ours. I only relate on the fringe of their emotions. I can not comprehend the real struggle their baby had to fight for his or her life. Baby O was just always going to make it. He just needed time.
That’s hard to say to someone whose baby needed so much more.
So this month, I’m supporting the families who sit in the NICU and hold hands with baited breath. Families who hear the beeps and do not find them as comforting as we did. Families who’s baby stays far from home for far too long. For us, six days was an eternity. I can’t imaging 6 weeks. OR worse.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
If God gives you as much as you can bear, then he knows I’m a huge pussy.
And I am. And I know I am. I am because I cry when I read their stories and I cry when I think of what could be.
But I cry big, fat, wet sloppy tears of joy when I watch this video I made the day Baby O was due: Five months ago today.
We never looked back. That baby keeping us up at night is a blessing. Even at 4:30 AM.
Now as a series: Mother Effer #2 Nov 12, 2007
As long as people keep getting stupid, there will be a Mother F.U.C.K.E.R movement. So people? Here’s installment #2:
Apparently, get this, You aren’t supposed to eat your iphone. Right. Wanna hear that again?
Don’t. Eat. Your. iPhone.
“SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Ingesting or inhaling your iPhone or iPod earbuds may be hazardous to your health.”
Ok, I get that people are in to burning things or sniffing things or whatever. But since when is eating your iPhone worthy of CNN reporting? Isn’t there, like, a war going on? Global warming to report about? Socialized medicine? Anything? Beuhler? No? Eating your iPhone it is, then.
Good choice, CNN Chief Medical Correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Here, this is for you:
Take this and stick it to your forehead and repeat to yourself several times a day “Mother for using common knowledge everywhere. Mother for using common knowledge everywhere…”
In the mean time, I’ll keep reminding my five month old not to put his iPhone in his mouth. The rest of the family, though, is pretty much up to speed on this. Apparently your viewers are at the level of a five month old. God bless this country if this is the future of our nation. We need it.
Bob Marley, Three Year Old Style Nov 07, 2007
One day in the bath, while Mr. Flinger bathed LB and I bathed Baby O (the “usual” night time routine), he told LB to get up, stand up. I started singing, “Get up, Stand up! Stand up for your rights!” We all sang this song, or rather, this one verse, until bedtime and again the next night feeling so smug with ourselves.
About a week later LB starts singing it on her own. “Get up stand up! Stand up for your lefts.”
At least she knows her opposites.
The Dog Ate My Homework, 2007 ed. Nov 06, 2007
I came to the coffee shop to get some work done here and here and here. I got comfy with my decaf, sugar free, fat free milk creamer Americano (per this.) and replied to a couple of emails. I opened a new browser tab (thank god for this) and typed in “T-W-I-T…” thinking my browser would bring me to twitter from the history list.
I saw he was up for a weblog award and I clicked over to vote. Then I realized, “hu, weblog awards? Again? Dude. I NEVER know when these things are coming up. I’m like the weblog award bastard child. I’d LOVE to nominate some people, damnit!” This is true. Luckily, though, I went this category and saw someone I adore in the running (er, rather, lead). Then I saw she was nominated here and voted. And she is nominated here. And then it hit me.
I read a lot of kickass blogs
I also have a note from my mother.
(You can thank me for all the time you just spent clicking on those links. See? Procrastination makes us all work better. Not harder, just smarter.)
Poo and Frogs and Unnatural Water: What the world is coming to. Nov 05, 2007
Well, whaddy’a know? I missed Day four. Day. Fucking Four, people. And by F’ing four I mean Frogs. (Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself, hang on.)
So, it turns out I chose naked time over posting. I chose a date and a clean house and grocery shopping over posting here yesterday. I picked out the Mexican Restaurant, The Movie, and The Place To Do It, but I did not pick out a topic to write about here. So I won’t be winning any stunning prizes this month. But that’s ok. I got to Do It.
Not that I’m one to kiss and tell.
.... moving on ....
The cursing has increased tenfold here. Have you noticed? Yes, Yes you have. You said to yourself, “Well, effing holy hell! Look! I can say fuck and not get banned!” and then you laughed and cussed and clicked your heals together because it’s fun to cuss, even if it’s just you, your innocent self typing dirty words alone like some reformed prison mate caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Well, shit.
I have to cuss here because around The Kidlets now I say things like, “Oh, Poo!” and “Darnit!” and “What the Frog?!”
What the frog?
Yes. What the frog.
It’s not the same ring as what the fuck, but it gets the job done in a pinch. It’s not as easy to make an acronymn to “F.R.O.G.” as it is to Mother F.U.C.K.E.R. I’ve tried, trust me. “What the Flogging Red Oddball Goatbutt” is that?” See? Not the same.
Feel free to come up with something lovely for What the Frog and I’ll make up a button for you. No! It’ll be Fun! Funolicioius! Like Delicious but Funner. Funolicious. Write it down, that’s a keeper. Darnit.
All of this leads up to my outburst today while shopping. This caused me to first laugh, frown, and say, “WHAT THE FROG” in front of my two children. LB replied, “What’s wrong, mommy? What is it?”
“Nothing sweetie. Nothing is wrong. The world is just Flogging Ridiculous, that’s all. Frogging Natural Water. Dear God.”
Site Business.. an incredibly boring day 3 (Sorry ahead of time but it has to be done) Nov 03, 2007
I have this hobby. It’s a little more than a hobby, in fact, I teach it. I make a living doing it.
I just wish I did it better.
I’m re-vamping a few bugs in this design here. (And by Bugs, I mean my fear and loathing of Internet Explorer.) I’m also working on a few other teeny tiny projects that I’ll be able to share with you again. In the mean time, here’s where this here website stands.
Ok, sorry, that was the short short version. Now? For the long(ish) version.
I’ve been keeping my fitness posts here. But that page is all effed up right now. And I still want a place for everyone taking part in the Weightloss War to update and everyone struggling or triumphing over their weight to confess/open up/share. Yaknow? Like, in private and with people you “know”.
And then I have activities posts here. But nobody knew about those so I didn’t update much. But I still want to. Really.
So (here’s where you can wake up again, shake off the drool. come on, we’re almost finished…) all posts will just show up here. Here. Right. Here. There’s a cutsie little icon to let you know what type of post it is.
I’ll still keep member fitness posts here. And you’ll want to update your porftolio when you log in. For link-ish reasons. So I can link you. Like all official. Members! Links! Randomly! (I’m not the first to do this. I just like the idea a lot.) Be sure to upload an avatar. That’s what will show. Like over THERE
< --------- under "people I read to be cool." So please? Avatar. Thanks.
Passed out yet? I'm not. I am still here, blogging on day Threeeeezeezezezezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Ok. I've officially bored myself to tears. I promise to do something more fun.
I used to talk about sex! A year ago! *sigh*
P.S. Lemme know if this site still looks wonky to you, would’ya? Apparently, IE 6 is a cunning bitch. We knew that.
In Which We Promise to Make Fools Of Ourselves (Nablopomo #2) Nov 02, 2007
This weekend, Michelle and I will take part in the Pineapple Classic on behalf of Mamaspod. We’ll be podcasting live from the start and finish of the race. This race is to help blood cancers like Leukemia and Lymphoma. If you’d like to make a donation, please click the DONATE button below.
(Did I mention it’s an obstacle course? And we don’t train? And we have to work as a team? And there will be pictures and podcasting? Oh, I did mention that. ... )
Nah blow me Nov 01, 2007
Last year I watched as everyone played
I wasn’t sure I could hack it
This year I thought, what the effing hey?
Maybe I’ll take a crack at it
Day one and I’m here a-trying
to write a post in rhyming
It does truly suck
but what the fuck
Nobody said I had good timing.
(You can blame Jennifer for this. I do.)
(Are you doing Nablopomo? Lemme know, yo. So I can add yer bad ass self to my lonely ass online networking dweebness. Pleaseness.)
(No more rhyming and I mean it!)
(Anyone want a peanut?)
One of these things is not like the other Nov 01, 2007
We did the whole “head out and get candy from strangers, but kids, never do this again unless I tell you it’s ok and I will always eat your candy to be sure it’s ok” holiday. LB wasn’t too sure about things at first until she found out she got suckers.
Baby O was a pea in the pod (all together now? Ahhhhh.)
LB was Cinderella (comment on her shoes here. Oohh! They LIGHT UP! Oooolala!)
Well. I was the scariest of them all.
With the ability to make small children bawl, husbands slink off to the kitchen to do the dishes, and three year olds choose an hour of alone time in their room instead of spending time among the wrath:
I was PMS, hormonal, postpartum, sweat-suit wench woman.
I eat small children and raw macaroni necklaces. But only together. And with salt.