Mrs. Flinger: Based on a True Story

Hidden (or not so much) messages of Motherhood 10/Aug/2009

#Family Life

Hidden (Or not so much) Messages from Mrs. Flinger on Vimeo.

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Ellis 09/Aug/2009

#The College Angsty Years

I have a sound clip from 1997 that features my college roommates and I interviewing each other on “what we wanted to be doing in five years.” I’ve stumbled across that clip a few times since graduation, always giggling to myself and wondering if any of the other girls thought about those goals.

Us_June97_2
(1997)

“I’ll probably be teaching” G stated, matter of fact.
(She was.)

“I’ll be hiking or something,” Nicole mused. (She was.)

“I’ll be servicing... Read more

In the quest of the perfect eyebrow 08/Aug/2009

#Side Notes

I only started plucking my eyebrows in my late twenties. As in VERY late twenties. As in, I was already a mom and labeled thus, “mother plucker” my Mr. Flinger.

When it comes to beauty, I’m at a loss. Makeup? Learning how to apply that still. Hair? Well. I can blow dry! But as my friend Michelle stated in exasperation, “You don’t even have the RIGHT kind of flat iron.” I didn’t realize they went out of style. And apparently, I have an old style, the big one? With the FLAT IRON?

:: shrugs ::

Since 2004 when I started the quest for the perfect eyebrow I have done a lot of research. I’ve... Read more

Words We Aren’t Allowed to Say 05/Aug/2009

#Family Life

Words. They can be powerful. They can be meaningless. They can send chills down your spine. They can go in one ear and out the other.

Perplexing, yes?

Or is that just me getting all giddy to use a word like “PERPLEXING.”

Probably.

So why is it that we have all these “RULES” about words? They’re just… words. Meaningless until someone attaches a feeling around it.

We’ve called my daughter, “Stinker” her whole life. We’ve called her “Pooper” “Pooper scooper” (honestly, I have no idea why, but it’s a term of endearment, I swear) and “Stinker Butt.” We rarely call each other our real names in this house at all, actually. “Read more

My snatch got stuck 03/Aug/2009

#Family Life

So I was talking to some good friends and one mentioned, “You know what I miss? Sneezing without having to tense up my cooter before hand.” And I joined in, “Oh, I KNOW!” But! BUT (There is always a but in there somewhere) “YOU didn’t even have to blow out your snatch.”

I reply, “I know, dude. I know. My snatch got stuck.”

We all have these wonderful visions of labor and delivery when we’re huge pregnant for the first time because it’s LOVELY! And NATURAL! and HOLY MOTHER JUST GET THE BABY OUTTA MY UTERUS. So we think of the wonderfulness of pushing, just like in the movies, a brand new four month... Read more

Community 02/Aug/2009

#Family Life

I watch the clock. 12:24. 12:25. ...

My daughter rambles on in the back-seat about her hair and her dress. “AnnaBella is going to LOVE my dress, Mommy!”

She has no idea what a failure I am.

She chats on and on about her invisible mice and her dress and her school friends and whose birthday it was today and whose birthday is next. I can barely hear her beneath my own self talk, “Great Big Parenting Fail. Can’t get child to a single thing on time, let alone a birthday party within two hours of the start. Well done, loser.”

I grab my iPhone, shaking the GPS one more time. I know where I’m going. I thought I did, at least. But the streets aren’t looking familiar.

We arrive, at last, as the sound of... Read more

The Tale of Costco (aka: Why you are thankful you don’t live by us) 31/Jul/2009

#Family Life

I hate Costco. I hate Costco the way alcoholics hate bars. The way recovering smokers hate Neil Diamond concerts.

My children, they amplify the situation.

We call Costco the $100 store. It’s the place you walk in needing two things and walk out with a tab well over $100. “We need diapers and toothpaste.” I mark it off the list. An hour and seventeen items later, the cashier says, “$234 dollars please.” Every. Single. Time.

My children begin to foam at the mouth about a mile before the turn in. “Are we going to COSTCO?!” my four year old yells. “Yes!” I reply. My two year old says, “SAMPLE? SAMPLE?” And then the foaming, it gets worse until the time we actually walk in to the store and I’m... Read more

My son will already make a wonderful husband. And he’s two. 30/Jul/2009

#Family Life

As a girl, with a mom of girls, I never truly “got” the Mama’s Boy thing. But it happened before he was born. I thought it was because he was my second born, the baby I could comprehend before I saw him, the kicking that I already understood deep inside my belly.

Now I know it was because of him. Who he is.

I have two children and I connected with them both. I understand my daughter from a “been there” perspective. I can read her and I remember what it was like being a four year old starting ballet. I understand when she just needs time without her younger sibling and I identify with some of her frustrations with school friends.

But my son? My son gets ME. My two year old will ask, “k? Mommy?” If I cough. He will come up... Read more

My brush, literally, with fame (a blogHer tale) 29/Jul/2009

**April, 2013** Hello and welcome! If this is your first time here, I’d love to meet you. I’ve recently written about being diagnosed with Adult ADHD, spent much of last year traveling and went back to work full time as a Program Manager for Media at a large global company. My children are 8 and 6 and I love talking to people with similar stories. Be sure to say hi and pull up a chair. I’ll grab the coffee. (Or tea for my UK friends with milk and sugar.)**


I walked in to the keynote, searching the thousands of faces to find “my... Read more

I am. 25/Jul/2009

#{w}rite-of-passage

I picture Jesus sitting at his laptop alone in his hotel room in Jerusalem.  He’s kicked off his sandals (marketed simply as “Jesus Sandals”) and stretches as he launches notepad. He has an inspired word and he begins to type. He starts: “I am Jesus. I want to share with you some ideas I have. Simple, easy ideas that will bring us all together. I want to give us community and peace and harmony. This world is a fucked up one, but I believe we are each able to contribute to the happiness of others. Cut the bullshit. Let’s love.”

He eyes his writing wondering if it’s too harsh. He hits the backspace key 413 times Click Click Click Click Click… He stops short and leaves the “I am.”

I am.

He ponders... Read more