Listen up, Blogosphere. This is part 1 of a 3 part series.
That’s right. What I have to say is so important, I am going to do it in three installments. This? Is number one.
Here is a short post on how to not write like a douche.
Its is possessive. The book is torn and its page is wrinkled.
It’s is a contraction of it and is. It’s about to rain.... Read more
About a week ago, I decided to join Weight Watchers. I’ve posted a lot of my weight loss struggle here, and as it turns out, I’m still at the exact.same.weight I was after having losing the Man Child’s pregnancy weight.
One of the greatest joys of having children is how they “keep you young.” (And by that I mean give you gray hair and wrinkles).
My children come from a long line of silly.
Their dad and I are silly.
It’s been a long time that I’ve been blogging in this little space. There are a lot of things you already know about me. You know more about my womanly cycle than I do most of the time and you know how to talk my engineer husband in to getting a vasectomy. You know the day I knew I would marry him and you knew the day I
A long while back, I asked for a barn.
Today, I have a barn.
There’s something about moving to “the country.” And by “something” I mean A HECKOFA lot of work.
There’s the septic system that can be blocked by trees.
There’s the old kitchen oven that may or may not work.
Perhaps you lose a... Read more
Three year olds are assholes. It’s true. It’s been documented somewhere. Probably on twitter or a wiki or something. Three year olds make 13 year olds familiar. Moody. Cranky. Angsty. Parenting a three year old (or a nearly three in my case) prepares you for the upcoming hormonal swings and mood changes akin to knife fights in gay bars.
Working gives me some perspective. I’m able to look at my adorable children and appreciate their innocence. I can hear their whines and love them because I do not get enough.
We set up the wardrobes yesterday. This is a much better system than the piles of boxes we’ve been living under. In theory, that is.
I started setting up the different shelves, organizing all the things I thought so important to force my good friends to spend an entire day moving with us.
I started with undies and socks, you know, important things. Moved on to hang-up items, shoes, scarves, sweats, workout stuff, shit I don’t wear any... Read more
Funny thing about Teh Interwebz: You just might find out someone lives 1.1 miles from your new home. And that someone just might be like SO SUPAH AWESOME that you trade emails and find out you’re eight thousand shades of the same. Maybe you even share the same tummy issues and love of wine and eating clean and working out.
So maybe you start hanging out.
Funny thing about hanging out with someone sorta like you: It freaks people out. You mean there are TWO OF YOU?! Yes! YES THERE IS. And that somone maybe happens to attend the same boot-camp class you do at the YMCA... Read more
A common theme within our family conversations as of late center around the ability to fail. We, the Flingers, believe failure is not only acceptable, but completely necessary. Taking away the ability to fail creates a chasm between lessons ultimately preventing the ability to make the proper choice later.
We let our children fail.
We allow ourselves to fail.
We analyze, talk about, and come back from our failures.
Failing. Is. Ok.
It’s hard, as a mother, to allow your children to fall knowing you could’ve stopped it. It’s hard to... Read more