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
I was at the gym a few days ago when this commercial came on. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the stress of moving, maybe it is me being all “woman-like” but I started to tear up right there at minute 11 on the elliptical.
Life is chaotic now. I knew the change was coming but you can never fully prepare for it. It’s like a pregnant mother waiting for the birth of her child. She hears all of you telling her to “sleep while you can” and “Woahboy, your first, hu? Big change is coming!” but those words are simply words. They are not experiences until she is in the midsts of it, and then it is irrelevant.
Words can be meaningless.
Or they can change your world.
The other day my... Read more
You probably don’t know the “northwest profile” commercials from Pemco, unless you live here. Or you listen to Seattle Internet Radio in an effort to step up your coolness. Or you’re a seattle northwest wannabe. (Or, rather, soon-to-be Seattle-ites.)
However, if... Read more
Hey, remember that time I was all, “OMG WE GOT A HOUSE AND WE GET TO MOVE!”
Fuck that. Moving is hard, yo!
It’s not just the new-ness of the place, or the old-ness of someone else’s dirt, it’s the alone-ness, the “what are we doing-ness” of our lives.
Disrupting the routine is no good, people. NO GOOD AT ALL.
But not having internet? That’s death.
Monday was our scheduled day. “Your rep will be there between 8AM and 5PM Monday, March 22.”
Awesome. I can totally unpack and not have... Read more
My body has a funny reaction to stress. You’ve heard of “fight or flight?” Well, I have “Fight/Flight or Sleep” with the latter having a weighted pull. I spent most of college sleeping. I never made it through an “All nighter.” Hell, I hardly make it through an “All Day-er.”
I find myself walking around our new house looking at things I want to fix. I walk around the empty house in circles. Living Room - Dining Room - Kitchen - Family Room - Den - Living Room - Dining Room and so on… I wander and pretend that I’m... Read more
Funny thing: Buying a house. It’s not like buying a new shirt or a new car. It’s more like going to the dentist, having a tooth pulled, and being told all you need is “the gas” and you’ll remember nothing.
(Incidentally, I did that last week, too.)
Or maybe it’s more like courting a lady; A lady who plays hard to get and toys with your emotion. She gets you all hot and bothered and then backs away and it... Read more