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.
For the last 20 ohmygodI’mnotkidding years, I’ve had painful ovulation followed by puffy, painful, uterus-numbing cramps. I’ve been told to “suck it up”, to take an Asprin and call back in the morning, to eat some chocolate and get over it.
When I turned 25 and had my first “real job” with my first “real insurance” and “real boyfriend”, I decided to stop putting up with it and have someone fix me. Mr. Flinger (pre-Flinger days) urged me to find someone to help because sitting on the floor crying in the bathroom for 5 days during your period just didn’t seem right. Either that or suck-it-up and eat a Hersheys.
I can’t begin to explain how much fun I’ve had here in Germany. There are no words.
It’s a home away from home that I’ve known intimately, not in any small part to my hosts Betty and Christoph. It it without hesitation that I can confess this has been the best possible experience I could have hoped for. Germany, a home I am familiar with in ways I could not have touched until this very moment in my life.
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.
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 you’re from the Northwest, these profiles sort of hit home.
I recently took a full time position with a fabulous design firm as their Director of Development. I work as a small team helping business reach their potential through an online presence that mimics their real life brand. We’re, what you call, all inclusive. Or “yer bitchez.” We answer to everything.
It’s a fabulous job, but it’s an adjustment. Life, though, is an adjustment. The older we get, the more we’ve adjusted and the more adjusting we do. Including our belt notches.
I’ve been sleepy since I was 16 years old. The first doctor I saw, during cross country season my Junior Year of High School, dismissed my complaints. “Look,” he leaned forward, his hands resting on this thighs, smelling of soap, “You’re not tired. You can’t be tired. You run 5 miles a day and get straight A’s. You’re not tired.”
But I *WAS* tired.
He wraps his arms around my neck, his cheek pressed against mine. I hear his soft breathing get longer, deeper, slower. I look at him, he is already asleep. Peaceful. Happy. Warm.
When I try to pull away, he wraps his arms tighter. He pulls me closer. “I just wuff you,” he whispers as I finally leave his tiny bed.