Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

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.

Clean Eating Articles: Click Through for You Jan 24, 2010

#Flinger Appreciated Links

I thought I’d share some of the fabulous information I’ve recently come across. Some fabulous people are out there writing about diet and fitness much better than I am. Here’s a snippet of some of the awesomeness.

Leigh’s “How to get fat skinny”.


First, there is a distinction between getting fit and losing weight. I’ll stick to losing weight in this post since that’s what most people think they want to do (I’ll talk about fitness later):
1.  Losing weight is ALL about diet.
2.  I’m not kidding.
3.  You can lose weight without exercising at all.
4.  Really.
5.  You can exercise like a mofo and not lose an ounce (or any size).
6.  I am not shitting you.
7.  You can do all the crunches you want; abs are made in the kitchen.

I appreciated the take at Life and Times of Stella about letting kids have sugar. I, too, having finished reading both In Defense Of Food and The Omnivore’s Dilemma appreciate the community, ownership, and value of Real Food. And, also, having been allowed treats on Saturdays only with very little sugar on a usual basis, can see every advantage to allowing children treats as a method for learning moderation, not deprivation.


Lemme tell ya, I gave up dairy for two and half months in a last-ditch effort to make breastfeeding work, and it eroded my soul. I’m 27% more evil now. Had I been forced to give up sugar and white flour too, which to me means insanely sexy chocolate and crusty loaves of French or Italian baked goodness, I would not be here today

Both hilarious, well written, with fabulous points. Glad to be on this path with such amazing people.

Productivity and Me: A graph Jan 21, 2010

#Life#Working Mom


Threaded Jan 20, 2010

#Balance#Depth and Faith#Life


It’s warm for January. The buds are unsure. The clock says to wait but the weather debates. I notice this as I walk and breathe deeply inhaling the fresh smell of pine and exhaling exhaustion. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I think about how connected everything is. There is no circle that does not touch another. The trees and the plants, the small town I live. The people I know all know one another. The business I have touches others in my community and the community in which I do business reaches beyond the pond to even more communities.

There is not a single blade of grass in my life that does not belong to the larger lawn.

It is with this spirit that I walk today. I walk the trails that connect my home in the suburbs to my work downtown. I walk with the music I found through an Internet channel, the same channel heard by friends as far away as Australia. I walk with the shoes I got in Vegas with my friend from Oakland and I walk by the road to my daughter’s new friend from school.

This connection, the circle of circles, expands and contracts, like lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.” - - Dahli Lama

It is with this quote that I walked today. With the unusual sun on the usual path in the usual circle in which I live. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.


*image courtesy of my long time dear friend Nicole.

{broccoli} GIrl Friends Jan 19, 2010



I was eight when I realized my mom had a best friend. It was one of those moments in life when suddenly my mother was a person to me, not just a mom. It’s like seeing a teacher in the store when you’re a child. A teacher! In a STORE! It stretches your brain to think teachers live anywhere except in the classroom where they wait for you each morning. It humanizes them. Grown-ups: they are people, too?


I had been playing with Dustin, a friend I only hung out with when my mom and sister went to his house. He was OK, but he was a boy. He had a great stack of legos, which I appreciated coming from a non-lego household, but I always ALWAYS had to be Princess Leah when we played Star Wars and sometimes a girl wants to be able to have a light saber is all.

We were leaving Dustin’s house after a rousing rendition of Star Wars when my mom began to tear up. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She sniffled, “Joanne is moving away soon. We won’t have her to stop by her house anymore.” It was strange to me that my mom would cry about this. I was ok with Dustin moving. Didn’t she realize Joanne only had BOYS? No Girls? She sniffled again. “She’s my best friend, sweetie, and it’s hard to have friends move away.”

I learned two things that day. 1. I wouldn’t have to be Princess Leah all the time if I could get Dustin to leave me his Star Wars toys if his new room was too small and 2. My mom had a best friend just like I did.

What the hell.

I wrapped my brain around my own best friend moving. What if she left me? Would I cry? Probably. But she had dolls and cool records. Joanne didn’t have any dolls. SHe had boys. I tried to point this out to my mom but it was futile, she was upset and was sad to see her friend go.

Over the years my mom would tell me, like a record, friendships are squishy, moldable, resistant. People will filter in to your life as you flow along. Some will stick. Others won’t. Life is pliable. Every aspect. Relationships are no different.


I’ve left a lot of friends over the years. I’ve made new friendships that I couldn’t imagine not having in life. But as a mother now, I understand something I would never appreciate until this very moment: my children have friendships based on my friendships. Even if they are a boy.

Friends can part ways for a variety of reasons. Schedules become tight. Family life changes. A move to another area of town makes gathering a bit more complex. But the hardest transition of all is when you suddenly realize a friendship is not enriching your life. To step away from a friend, however many years in to the relationship, is painful regardless of how right it may be. THe children who grew up together, however young they are now, will remember their parents friends. And, as pliable as life truly is, memories form around experiences however brief in time.


It is with sadness and acceptance that I recently understood this reality. It became even more real as I hear of a possible move from a family dear to us. I wonder at times which bothers me more, the knowledge that people may not stick in my life for ever or the fact that I will be OK after all the changes settle?


For as much wonder and goodness as I have in my life, the children who surprise me with wit and kindness, the people I meet who truly understand me, and the future in a job I adore and a house we can grow in, I appreciate how fleeting time can be. However much we strive to hold on.

This post is an exercise of {W}rite Of Passage. Please feel free to Join us!.

Anne Lamott tells us, “Listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it.” She’s referring to that inner voice that we hardly ever hear anymore.

Today, take a few minutes to be still and quiet. Listen to your inner voice and write what she/he says. That’s it. Whatever it is that’s in there, let it out.

People participating this week:

Delurking Day twenty-ten Jan 14, 2010



Confession: I’ve become a complete lurker. When I first started blogging in 2003, I would comment all over the place. I’d say hi, give a “helpful” reply, leave a little love. You might even say I was a comment whore.

Six and a half ohmygod years later, I’ve taken to reading, nodding, thinking and quickly turning to something shiny that’s about to break in the house as my children rush past mom on her computer again.

I’ve taken to reading your blogs on my iPhone while on the toilet, which frankly, does not lend one to want to paw the keyboard at a device that is usually held up to my face.

Just sayin’.

So today is the day for you to take the four minutes and leave a comment. Say hi. Let me know you’re still around. Hell, I hardly realize *I* am still around. But I am. Six and a half ohmygod years later.


Not sure what to say? Let me start a story for you. You can finish it up for me. “There once was a hot man at starbucks. Who wore a hat made of wool. He was reading thick books, his beard aids his looks, and he…..”

Or just say hi. I’m cool with that.


I’ll buy you a pony.

The Inner Voice - Mommy Guilt, Family, Work and You Jan 13, 2010

#Life#Working Mom


Expectations are resentments under construction. - Anne Lamott

The Inner Voice. “Your son needs you. His eyes are so puffy. He needs sleep and your arms.”

The Inner Voice. “You better get your work done on time or you will disappoint. You don’t want to be THAT PERSON. We rail against THAT PERSON. Be a better person at work. What if you had no job? WHAT IF.”

The Inner Voice. “Look at those stay at home moms. They love their kids more than you do. Clearly.”

Logic has no chance. Has no foothold.

My mind is a neighborhood I try not go to alone. - Anne Lamott

The Inner Voice. “You can’t do it all.”

The Inner Voice. “You can do it all.”

The Inner Voice. “But you will fail.”

Reality says my son is here with me, “working” too. His medium is a coloring book, mine is a computer. Together we connect the dots, balancing the impossible.

Reality says we’re fine, the children know they’re loved.
Reality says it’s a constant struggle, a good struggle, a necessary struggle.
Reality says some days will be harder than others.

And in the end, it is all ok. Reality, history, logic, fact. Looking back, it all turned out ok.

It always does.

The most terrifying day of your life is the day the first one is born. Your life, as you know it… is gone, never to return. But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you will ever meet in your life. - Lost in Translation

Proud to be the bacon - or alternate title: If I was gay I’d totally be in heaven right now Jan 11, 2010

#Life#Getting to know me

You know how silly these things are, right? Especially when there’s a list for the list after the list of 50 best mommy bloggers (which, frankly, I am so proud to see so many of my friends on there because yea, I have great taste and it’s obviously all about me), so really this is the list for like, the 51st - 100th best mommy blogger?

Dude. Rawkin’ the Bacon.

See, during this brief moment in time, before word gets out there and people actually take notice that this list exists and that you can vote once a day, I’ve snuck in between two of my most favorite, most adored bloggers out there. The Bloggess and SesameEllis.


Do not ask me how this is possible. I. Do. Not. Know.

What I do know, is that I had to take a screenshot of this before it goes away. I needed something to show off at all the parties I’ll be going to, “Remember that one time? I was the bacon in the SesameEllis/Blogess sandwich?” And people will laugh and say, “ooh, Leslie, you love to toss big names around, don’t ya” and I’ll pull out my iPhone and go, “NO IT IS REAL SEE?”

And when I have no friends left, I will have is this screen-shot to share a glass of whiskey with.

But, seriously, people, what this says to me is that a) mygodthankyou for the people who have thumbed me b) obviously not enough people realize you can thumb more than one person and trust me I’ve thumbed them all and c) I’m the bacon.


Here is my ode to this love sandwich that I just made up on the spot. I do that.

:: clears throat ::

You can be my bread
and I will be your fat
I’ll be the sizzle
in your ratta-tat-tat

I’ve loved you both long time
an honored to be between
I’m full of flavor, artificial and natural
I’m nitrates extra lean.

The next time I go check
I know this won’t be the case
so let me now, so briefly
enjoy this bloggy race.

Bbb-acon I love to be your Bacon.
(that’s the chorus)
(repeat chorus)

You can call me a fanatic
you can call me nuckingfutz
Either way is a-ok!
Just don’t call me cold cutts
Because ...

I’m your Bbb-acon.. I love to be your bacon.
(repeat chorus)

P.S. You can go vote your brains out for Heather, too, who is leading this with a good solid 1-2 punch as is rightly so. Also, check out the list. Lots of great reads. Find one, love one, thumb ‘em all. Pass it on.

Here’s to being the 54th best blog! heh.

{W}rite Challenge- The Job Jan 10, 2010

#Life#Working Mom#{W}rite-of-passage


My husband stepped out the door and I kissed him good-bye as he headed to work. It wasn’t an unusual scene, but a new one. This particular day was his first heading back to work after the birth of our first child. I was starting a new job as well, as a mother, taking care of an entire human being that had no idea how to hold her head, move her hands with fine motor skills or even that she had hands at all.

I was home taking care of a screaming sack of potatoes that shit hourly on the hour.

I was mortified.

So I held him a little too long that morning, my husband, in the door of our rambler. “I love youuuuuuu. Have a gooooooooo daaaaayyyyy. Looks like it won’t be too cold todaaaaaaaaay.”

He knew I was stalling. He’s smart like that.

The baby squirmed and kicked in my arms signaling her patience was giving in. Before she could start a full wail, he looks up and says, “Have fun with that! Seeya babe!” and nearly runs to his car before driving off at mock speed.

The baby and I. Alone. For the first time.

We look at each other. Her face contortions like an old man without his morning prune juice. She twitches, looks up at me and farts.

It was the first day in a long string of days colored with similar stories. And, like most first days on the job, the magnitude and simultaneous insignificance of each detailed moment won’t fully be appreciated until many, many, many years down the road.

Five, to be exact.


As I kiss my daughter off to school and begin a new job, an office job, a job without her in my arms or under my feet or clamoring for my attention, I miss that first moment, the ledge where we both stood that morning on our first journey together. And Oh, I miss it.

I always will.

This post is part of {W}rite-of-passage challenge #5- “The Job”. Here are others joining in this week. Feel free to as well!

A plea from a mother of a toddler who will not sleep Jan 08, 2010

#Life#Rants and Raves#Those Little People

You wouldn’t think someone this adorable could cause any trouble.


And oh, you’d be wrong. And also a suckah.

I can remember sitting behind the recliner listening to the theme song from St. Elsewhere. I remember my mother, without looking back, yelling, “GO TO BED” and wondering how she even knew I was there. I was so quiet! The woman had eyes on the back of her head. She till does.

The theme music has changed, the recliner is different, but the person sitting behind the chair refusing to go to bed is reminiscent of 1982.

My son, my precious baby boy, the apple of my eye, is pissing me right the hell off.  The Boy willl not, for any bribes, threats, pleads, stay in his bed. He will not sleep before 10PM or past 6:30AM. He knows what he wants and he wants it. It’s us. He’s changed in to a little man wanting late night TV and a whisky (ok, fine, “milk” whatever) until way past bedtime. Past OUR bedtime.


Last night in a fit of “what DO I DO WITH YOU” I stated, “Every time you get out of bed, you lose a lovey.” It had a “This Wonderful Life” tone to it but with threats, lovies, and the absence of an adorable child telling a story about angels. It also didn’t work.

I tried putting him back in his pac-n-play telling him only big boys get to be in big boy beds and when he feels he’s ready to be a big boy and stay in his MAN BED, he can have that again. He said, “OH! MY CRIB! YEY!”

Epic Fail.

I’ve lost hair over this. I’ve tried guilt trips, bribes, threats. I’ve let him stay up, I’ve stayed in bed and snuggled, I’ve read extra books, I’ve tried to ignore the behavior.

I have no good answer. I have no good solution. I have my regrets for letting this kid sucker me in to manipulate me with his charming ways of telling me he loves me and his adorable ways of being two.


And now? I’m paying for it.

Help? Please? I’ll let you stay up late. I’ll even buy you a pony.

Haggard. Jan 05, 2010

#Life#Working Mom#{W}rite-of-passage

I recently took a full time position with a fabulous design firm as their Director of Development. I work as a small team helping business reach their potential through an online presence that mimics their real life brand. We’re, what you call, all inclusive. Or “yer bitchez.” We answer to everything.

It’s a fabulous job, but it’s an adjustment. Life, though, is an adjustment. The older we get, the more we’ve adjusted and the more adjusting we do. Including our belt notches.

The children have been simply delicious over the holiday.





Randomly telling Mr. Flinger and I that they love us.



Staying in PJ’s all day long.

It’s been all sorts of wonderful as we adjusted to being home in our tiny condo together for ten days solid. But adjust we did, and fell in to a routine that felt natural and comfortable.


The first day back is always the hardest and memories slip as you forget what it was like before.  You’re armed with goals.




It’s all the same, really. There are goals for work and home and self. For eating and writing and your career. Goals for learning, stretching both mind and body. Goals, not resolutions, are what I created this year. I created goals.

I made a goal to give up drinking while I focused on my fitness.

I made a goal to stay off the computer and focus on the children and family after work.

I made a goal to write more, worry less.

I made a goal to keep the people who love me in my life and release the ones that don’t.

I made a goal to eat clean.

I made a goal to be a better wife, mother, developer.

I made a goal to produce some addons for the ExpressionEngine community.

I made a goal to tell my clients how much I appreciate them.

I made a goal to get our holiday cards out before Valentine’s Day.

I made a goal to say yes only to those projects I know I can do.

I made a goal to run because I love running. I made a goal to find community in everything I do. I made a goal to kick my sister’s ass at Mario Kart.

I have a lot of goals.

I will not reach them all but it’s not a failure. They’re goals. Not expectations. Not demands. Not black. Not white. Goals.


Here’s to a new year filled with lofty goals. And maybe even hitting one or two.

This is a part of writes-of-passage challenge. Here are some other participants this week. Feel free to join!