We took the kids to see “Up” today. We all cried. And by we, I mean me. I’ve said a thousand billion times that I have movie love. And I do. I have that marriage where when one of us goes, passes away, forever, the other will slowly just sort of, go insane. Like TOTALLY COMPLETELY INSANE.
Or become an alcoholic.
Which has nothing to do with the movie, necessarily, I’m just sayin’.
So my 2 yr old and my 4 yr old both sat through the entire film with my True Love sitting next to me and we would glance at each other knowingly and smile and touch hands throughout and laugh at our children’s wonder and excitement and realize that childhood is always the same.
We also used a lot of run-on sentences... Read more
When I was five, or six, or maybe as late as eight (but I won’t admit to that), I used to lay on my stomach in my room and look through the bEST Catalog. Remember that store? The store with the roof that looked like it weathered four hurricanes, and probably did, and had THE VERY BEST TOY SECTION EVERRRRR. I mean EVERRRR.
Maybe it was a Houston thing, but I loved that store.
Think of the Sears’ Toy Catalog at Christmas: It was like that but year round.
So I would lay and look at the doll house section because there was nothing more that I wanted than the life-size doll house with the wooden dolls and real wood furniture and carpet and lights. I’d stare at it picturing myself playing with the dolls. In my head, I’d have them walk upstairs... Read more
Upon much recommendation, I recently read “Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert. (It was a #1 best seller and what’s that? I’m slow on the uptake? Yes, I know.) Today as I was struggling with my strep throat.. again… and feeling just pretty much the lead in my pity party, I finished the last chapter on the porch of our tiny condo in Seattle.
She explains something the Zen Buddhists believe, that an oak tree is brought in to creation by two forces: One being the actual acorn and the other being the will of the future oak tree. That during the growth, the older version of the oak tree leans in and whispers “GROW” to its younger self urging it on to the final version of itself. She says she feels much the same way through her spiritual... Read more
Ok. So it appears that the following is true:
That pact about not blogging pissed? AM BREAKING.
(Aside: The douchebags that follow me because I said stripper? Pervs. The ones that follow because I said Chlamydia? Y’all really need to get that checked out. And the ones that follow because I said wine? Poor me one. Teh Enz.)
We will NEVER BE WELL FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES. I swear to god, hold me now, antibacterial? Is NOTHING against our body’s germ infestations.
We... Read more
Birthday: May 20th, 2007.
Age: Officially TWO YEARS OLD. Today. (side comment: Weep)
Favorite Color: Three!
Literacy: Knows 25 of the 26 letters of the alphabet reliably.
Math Kills: Knows how to count to 10 and can recognize these in writing.
Performance: Is skilled at tossing footballs, kicking soccer balls, pushing trains on tracks and popping balloons.
Also adept at snuggling mommy and pretty much getting anything he wants from her via pout lip.
Able to completely navigate apps on the iPhone and pick the chicken sound EVERY FUCKING TIME.
Damn you people.
So today I put on my ONE pretty bra because I get to play grown up and meet with a client. I didn’t realize, though, the busted-ness of this shirt. I somehow managed to forget that when I wear this bra I... Read more
When I was in High School, I wanted to move back to Houston.
When I was in College, I wanted to move to Nova Scotia.
When I was finishing college, I wanted to move to Colorado for Graduate school.
When I moved back to Houston after college, I wanted to move to Alaska.
When I moved back to Portland for Graduate school, I wanted to move to Seattle.
When I moved to Seattle, I wanted to move back to Bellingham.
My husband has put a one year moratorium on talking about moving. 2009 will be the year we (and I quote) “shut the fuck up about moving already.”
Which, honestly, right?
So when I tell you I’m a passionate, spontaneous person you are not at ALL shocked, In fact, you’re not shocked that I did a... Read more
And so it is that I have photos and video for you. Because that’s how we roll here at casa Flinger. Recently, anyway.
I love that Baby O is using the old bike LB outgrew too early. He loves to motor his feet as fast as he can go. I love the colors. And the angles. And his tiny-ness.
Mr.... Read more
I’m honored to be part of Mothers Day Rally For Moms Mental Health” today. This is my fourth mother’s day. The fourth year I’ve been figuring out how to be a mom, who I am as a mom, and what the hell got me here.
As someone who blogged her way through depression with her first child, the decision to stop medication during the pregnancy of her second, and the subsequent love and I remember a night when I was five years old, maybe four, when a babysitter came to our house. I was sitting at the table eating dinner and my parents were getting ready to go to a baseball game. I don’t know why I remember all this detail, but I do. I remember “sitting” in the chair much the same way my four year old daughter “sits” in chairs now: bouncing from feet to bottom, feet to bottom. It drives me mad as an adult but I remember being paid a dime to sit still and quiet for five minutes. Bribery worked even in the late seventies. As my parents got ready to leave, I launched myself off the seat and hit the edge of the table. CRACK! SPLIT! BLOOD! I oozed from my chin as my mother grabbed me. “Call the doctor” I heard her yell. Next...
Murphy Sucks 07/May/2009
I remember a night when I was five years old, maybe four, when a babysitter came to our house. I was sitting at the table eating dinner and my parents were getting ready to go to a baseball game. I don’t know why I remember all this detail, but I do. I remember “sitting” in the chair much the same way my four year old daughter “sits” in chairs now: bouncing from feet to bottom, feet to bottom. It drives me mad as an adult but I remember being paid a dime to sit still and quiet for five minutes. Bribery worked even in the late seventies.
As my parents got ready to leave, I launched myself off the seat and hit the edge of the table. CRACK! SPLIT! BLOOD! I oozed from my chin as my mother grabbed me. “Call the doctor” I heard her yell. Next... Read more