When trying to figure out our events this weekend, we over-heard someone say the Washington State caucus was going on. “Caucus?” I giggle. Heh. You said CAUCUS.
No, really, I’m twelve.
I actually do care, you know, about politics. I care deeply. I have my :: ahem :: opinions and I want to voice them in a dark room or behind a closed curtain with a #2 pencil and a bubble sheet. I remember voting in my younger years, basing a huge decision like WHO WILL RUN THY COUNTRY on things like, “well, this guy has lovely hair…”
I know... Read more
This is what I heard from the customer service representative for Starbucks today. He was just the kind of sweet talkin’ man that I believed him. Really. (Of course, I also believed Jesus came from a Virgin and my Dad didn’t know how to change the toilet paper so I may not be the best judge of character.)
Here’s how things played out:
A few days ago, I ordered my usual non-fat/sugar free blahblahblah. I was informed this is now a “skinny” latte. “Oh, skinny?” I giggle. Because really? Skinny Latte? Isn’t that a bit... Read more
Do you ever wake up, look around, hear your kids in the next room and go, “when the hell did THAT happen? I have.. kids? TWO KIDS?”
I always heard marriage was hard work. To me, as a young married person, I never got it. Marriage? Marriage was never work. Marriage was the one thing that made sense to me. It was the single decision that I didn’t mind making. That was the easy part.
Married with children, on the other hand, not so much.
But some days, even... Read more
Mr. Flinger and I often take turns with Baby O’s night feedings. There’s the 12-2AM feeding and the 3-5AM feeding. I have the unfortunate side effect of staying awake for hours if my sleep is interrupted while he can pass out pretty much the second the baby is back in his crib, regardless of the status of the baby. This same quality, I noted, is what makes a man fall asleep .2 seconds after sex. There’s magic testosterone, I swear.
I remember thinking that regardless of which “shift” I took with LB, I would inevitably get screwed. If I took the first... Read more
Well, whaddy’a know? I missed Day four. Day. Fucking Four, people. And by F’ing four I mean Frogs. (Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself, hang on.)
So, it turns out I chose naked time over posting. I chose a date and a clean house and grocery shopping over posting here yesterday. I picked out the Mexican Restaurant, The Movie, and The Place To Do It, but I did not pick out a topic to write about here. So I won’t be winning any stunning prizes this month. But... Read more
Seriously? As in ... Seriously? You’re kidding, right?
These are the first thoughts that ran through my head upon hearing about the Bumbo Seat Recall. I have a Bumbo Seat. We love the Bumbo Seat. Baby O sits up in his Bumbo Seat. It’s a blue, soft, squishy seat of wonderfulness.
Baby O give it a thumb up. Or down. He’s really not sure what those things are on the end of his hands yet…
After an impromptu doctor’s appointment wherein I got “the speculum action” (the most action I’ve seen, by the way, in some time) I was on my way home when I called my husband and found out some interesting bits of information. And by interesting, I mean annoying as all hellfire. It prompted the following promotion for mamaspod and the first podcast wherein I discuss my hayhay.
Something tells me it won’t be the last.
I remember the day I knew I could marry Mr. Flinger. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in High School when we were mushy young love-birds. (gag) It wasn’t during college when we were best friends, not-dating, and desperately fixing one another up with other people. It wasn’t until years later, at 24, having moved home to Texas and back that I saw him with my cousin Danielle. I remember the summer, of 2000, living with my Uncle and Aunt having found a job up in Portland, but not an apartment. I moved up from Houston ready to start my job and my new life, namely, hoping Mr. Flinger... Read more
We’ve reached the point in Baby O’s life were his eye-lids don’t seem to work if he’s laying down on his own. That is to say, the minute you lay a completely sleeping baby down, his eyes pop open and he starts fussing and crying. Girlhood doesn’t prepare you for this day, what with the dolls that ALWAYS closed their eyes when they laid flat in the pretend crib.
Dolls should come with reflux.
I believe it’s some sort of Karmac payback for uttering the words, “I might want another one…” And now? I’m so [enter every... Read more
Mrs. “Holy hell my nipples are rock hard.”
Mr. “Pumping is the Mom’s Viagra?”
Mrs. “I think I’ve reached the six hour limit and should call a doctor. I’ve had a boob erection for days.”Read more