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.

{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.

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