Yeah, I’m over here now.

That is all.

The other day I was going through Carter’s closet and tossing shirts that no longer fit, were missing buttons (I’m ashamed to admit I throw away shirts that are missing buttons) (stop judging me), and were covered with grass stains, and as I was going through the shirts lying on the floor of his closet and shaking them free of dust and dog hair (again, stop judging me) and attempting to hang them up again, I realized that the shirts that littered the floor of his closet were not there as a result of his laziness, but because his clothes no longer fit the small hangers I had been using for years. I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling as though time had hit me over the head with a frying pan as I folded outgrown t-shirts and carefully packed them in a cardboard box to be taken to the nearest consignment shop.

I find it hard to believe that it was ten years ago today that I called my mom in the middle of the night in a panic because I wasn’t sure if my water had broken or I had peed my pants.

“What if I wake up Mark and tell him I’m in labor and it turns out I HAD WET MY PANTS! I would DIE!”

The years since that day have passed by in a blur, and I often find myself wondering what happened to the little boy who would crawl into my lap asking me to read him a story and fall asleep before I had even finished the book. It seems like only yesterday that Carter, after watching me do a back handspring on the trampoline, stared at me with a look of awe and facination and spent the rest of the summer telling his friends, “Dude, my mom’s a Power Ranger!”.
It takes a lot more than a back handspring to impress him nowadays and unless I set myself on fire and baked brownies in the flames, I don’t think he’ll ever look at me again with such amazement the way he did that day in the backyard… he’s growing up, and even though I sometimes miss the little boy who used to empty his toybox and crawl inside to take a nap, I love the young man he’s becoming just as much as I loved the little boy he used to be.

Happy Birthday, Carter.

I wanted to post sooner- if for no other reason than to bury the post beneath this- but life has been a bit hectic lately. Mark and I and the kids celebrated Christmas early this year and three days later we left for Michigan to spend the holidays with family.

The kids had a lot of fun opening presents (I know, it’s crazy… who knew?) and were happy with everything that Santa Claus brought them. I think they were only being polite because Santa Claus brought them educational toys, books, and underwear (geez, Santa’s such a downer), but fortunately Mark and I came through with video games, remote controlled airplanes, a wooden train track, Play-Doh, and Airsoft guns (something I bought for them in a moment of weakness, forgetting the time my dad was young and aimed a BB gun at my aunt’s foot and told her to dance… she wasn’t quick enough and he shot her point blank in the foot) (I give Gage and Carter six months before one of them pulls the same stunt).

Carter has wanted an Air Hog remote controlled helicopter forever (translation: six months), so Mark and I finally (I have no idea where Carter has inherited his dramatic personality… heh) bought him one… his Havoc Heli is easily his favorite present and even though he had a hard time in the beginning (Macy still hasn’t come out from underneath our bed), he’s gotten a lot better and can now fly his helicopter through the house and land on the ceiling fan. We also bought him Guitar Hero so let me know if you’d like tickets when Aerosmith kicks off their next tour (he’ll be the one in the back telling the groupies to stop calling him and trying to give Steven Tyler a wedgie)… I have connections.

Gage wanted to be an only child for Christmas, but that ship has sailed so he had no other choice than to settle for Spore (a computer game) and Brisingr (the third and final book in the Inheritance trilogy. I buy each of the boys at least one book every year for Christmas because I’m hoping to pass on my love of reading to at least one of my kids, if not all three… it would be nice if they would inherit something of myself other than my height and biting sarcasm)… Gage loves to read (score!) so he finished reading the book before we pulled into the driveway after driving home from Michigan.

Ryerson has wanted everything he’s seen on tv for the past three months (seriously, Ryerson… the Sham Wow?) but Mark and I needed to draw the line somewhere so we went with the Leapster thinking he would love being able to play something along the lines of the Nintendo DS but age appropriate. It isn’t that he doesn’t have fun playing Go, Diego, Go: Animal Rescue and Finding Nemo, but I think he’s more impressed with the $4 tube of Play-Doh that I bought as an afterthought as opposed to the $60 educational video game system I searched one month and two stores to find.

Mark and I wanted the kids to have a few days to play with their new toys before we left to drive to Michigan, so we left early Tuesday morning. I had thought Mark and I had an understanding that if driving conditions looked to be at all life threatening, we wouldn’t leave until Wednesday morning. Apparently deals were made to be broken and what is usually a 7 1/2-8 hour drive took us 12 hours (yes, count them… TWELVE) (I’m very bitter… nearly losing my life in a head on collision tends to make me irritable). You would have thought that seeing as we were driving in freezing rain before we even made it out of town would have made Mark stop and think, “Hmmm… maybe we shouldn’t leave today”, but he insisted that it wouldn’t last long.

I’m not normally one to pass up the opportunity to say “I told you so”, but I managed to restrain myself only because Mark was feeling guilty enough as it was without me saying “I told you so” every time we passed some poor sucker in a ditch (instead I suggested to Mark that we count the number of times we used the anti-lock brake system to pass the time- ya’ know… FOR FUN- and wondered out loud if I was going to be banned at the gates of Heaven for the time I closed the door in the face of a Jehovah’s Witness), and I like to think I’m a good person.

I’m not sure it was worth risking our lives for, but we did have a great time in Michigan. It had snowed a lot the week before so the kids were able to play in “real” snow (as opposed the “fake” snow in Kentucky) and as much as I hate the snow, it was great watching them make a snow fort and being able to make a decent snowball without having to scrape off a layer of ice first. We spent Christmas Eve with Mark’s family playing games and taking bets on whether or not Rick would fall asleep (Rick is Mark’s brother and has spent a lot of time behind a snowplow lately). The kids were thrilled to finally see their cousins Jordan, Torie, and Jakob, and we were able to see family we hadn’t seen in a long time (hi, Aunt Karen… your Strawberry Pecan Salad was just as good as I remembered). We went to my dad and stepmom’s house on Christmas day and the kids spent the afternoon sledding… Gage and Carter lasted for quite a while but Ryerson only lasted fifteen minutes until he lost his boot in the snow (he wasn’t nearly as impressed with snow after that). They spent the night that night and had fun playing in the hot tub and peeing in the snow (something Grandpa always lets them do when I’m not around). Friday we spent the afternoon with my mom and her fiancee opening presents and making wedding plans (I have a feeling she’s going to make me wear something fuschia and covered in bows just to pay me back for all the times I snuck out of the house when I was in high school).

In spite of the wonderful time, it’s good to be home… we came home after spending a week in Michigan and we haven’t done much of anything since then. As much as I love the holidays, I wish Mark and I would have taken the season into consideration when planning our wedding… our anniversary was December 30th, but the two of us were too exhausted to celebrate. We had talked about hiring a babysitter and going out to dinner, but because of everything going on, neither one of us remembered to call our neighbor to babysit. Mark has been nothing but a fantastic husband and father and deserves more than a Marie Callendar’s chicken pot pie and two prerecorded episodes of the television series’ Fringe to commemorate the day we were married thirteen years ago, so this weekend I’m going to make it up to him by serving him a romantic dinner by candlelight and wrapping myself up with a bow and some glitter.

Because I’m a good wife. Wink.

Tonight Mark and I were watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall (full frontal would have been so much hotter had it been Brad Pitt rather than Jason Segel… just sayin’) and I noticed I was tagged by Seriously Mama and Daddy Joe for a meme. Life has been a bit dull lately and a meme was just the thing I needed to jump start an otherwise slow blog fodder day, so I was thrilled to see I maybe I had something to post today after all.

I went on to read the rules and was dumbfounded… what did I do to piss them off?

1) Take a picture of yourself right NOW!
2) DON’T change your clothes, DON’T fix your hair… Just take a picture.
3) Post that picture with NO editing.
4) Post these instruction with your picture.
5)Tag 10 people to do this..

Luckily today was a good day… any other day I would have been mortified, but today my hair- thanks to John Frieda Brilliant Brunette- was especially shiny and lustrous and I had just gone to the dry cleaners this afternoon to pick up my matching feather trimmed thong and bra set. We also have a runway for such occasions (you never know when Victoria’s Secret is going to call needing a last minute photo shoot… jeez, it’s like my time isn’t my own anymore) so I gave Mark the camera and proceeded to do my little turn on the catwalk.

Okay, not really, but it was worth a shot, although Mark did in fact take the picture… the following picture was taken moments after he said, “C’mon, honey, gimme a little flash of booby!”

Normally I would LOVE to pass along this meme (misery loves company and it would be nice knowing I wasn’t the only one who was forced to post a picture of themselves looking like total shit) but today I’m filled with the Christmas spirit (we celebrated Christmas with the boys yesterday because we’re going to be spending the holidays in Michigan… stay tuned. I haven’t had time to write a post detailing our morning with the boys because, well, I’ve been busy. Playing Donkey Kong Country and removing dog hair from the propellers of an Air Hog helicopter takes time, people)… happy freakin’ holidays.

This post is going to be short and sweet (which is unusual for me… I’m usually very wordy) because I need to stay sharp… Gage and Carter are home from school today for the third full day in a row because OH MY GOSH IT SNOWED THREE WHOLE INCHES Monday and the kids are determined to destroy the house and my sanity along with it (will someone please explain to Carter that giving me atomic wedgies while I’m cleaning is not funny?)(okay, maybe it is a little) just for fun.

Gage and Carter are thrilled… they’ve gotten up early the past three days and have spent most of the day outside. Snow is rare and we still have our sleds/snowboards that we brought with us when we moved (both of which haven’t been used very much since we moved) so they’ve spent the better part of every day outside sledding.

I’ve never seen Ryerson so happy… he LOVES the snow! I hate keeping him inside so I’ve bundled him up as much as I can considering he doesn’t own a pair of snow pants or boots and hope for the best (take note of the gloves he’s wearing in the photo to your left… yeah, the gloves are actually Carter’s. The poor child doesn’t even own a pair of mittens… epic mommy FAIL) he doesn’t seem to mind the wet and I’ve had to bribe him with candy or frostbite to make him come in the house.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken pictures (hence the lack of Weekly Winners posts) so yesterday I took advantage of the fact that all three kids were playing together and having fun OUTSIDE and took as many
pictures as I could before my fingers went numb. Enjoy the pictures and until next time… that’s all ya’ll.

PS I still don’t understand why school is cancelled… it hasn’t snowed in two and a half days and most of the snow HAS MELTED ALREADY! The roads are CLEAR! PUHLEASE! I grew up in Michigan… I’ve laid out in worse than this.

PSS Note to self: Must remember to buy Ryerson mittens when we go back to Michigan for the holidays.

The topic of this weeks Spin Cycle, brought to you by the always snarky Sprite’s Keeper (I believe the actual phrase is always lovely, and while it’s true Jen is lovely, she’s also snarky, which is a trait I admire above all others. Anyone can be lovely, but it takes a special person to compare constipation to rush hour traffic… that, my friends, is talent) is The Birth Of A Blog:

Jenboglass over at Steenky Bee had the wonderful idea of doing a Spin on why you named your blog- you know, what you named your blog. Why that name? Why did you choose that moniker to follow you around the blogosphere and become your alter-ego? But let’s go a little more in depth, shall we? Why do you blog? Why did you begin? Tell us all. An autobiography if you will.”

I honestly don’t remember why I went with The Edge Of Insanity… maybe Oh My Hell My Kids Are Driving Me Insane, Will Someone Please Send Vodka was already taken, or maybe it’s because Mark and I bought a timeshare in Crazy (it’s a lovely place to visit, but the service sucks) when we decided to have three kids. It honestly wasn’t something I put very thought into (something I’ve come to regret… The Edge Of Insanity is quite boring, although I have grown quite fond of Scrat, my googly-eyed squirrel), and I’m thinking of changing it… I’m leaning towad My A Cup Runneth Over or Go Ask Your Dad.

My reasons for starting a blog are simple… Mandi (my sister-in-law) made me do it. She grew weary of listening to me complain while I struggled with MySpace so she had suggested I start a blog instead (something I’m sure she’s come to regret… her posts always include sweet pictures of her son Jakob and profanity-free posts of the different things Jakob has done throughout the week, whereas I occasionally post sexually provacative pictures of David Beckham and once titled a post Kibbles And Shits). I thought it sounded like a great idea… Mark and I and the kids moved to Kentucky three years ago and I wanted to be able to keep our friends and family up to date on what was going on with us and the kids.

My reasons have changed since then, and now I write for my kids/myself… I want my kids to know how much I loved them and how much I loved being their mom, even when I was threatening them to send to their bedrooms if they didn’t stop fighting (BECAUSE DEAR GOD, THE FIGHTING!!!). I want them to know that I had a sense of humor and loved nothing more than to make people laugh, even if it meant *AHEM* occasionally stepping a toe over the line (Gage happened to come across an older post of mine today and proceeded to lecture me on my language. I begged him to send me to my bedroom as punishment but instead he sent me to the kitchen to make him a sandwich… it’s not fair). I hope one day they read this after they’ve grown up, with children of their own, and remember what it was like when they were young and hopefully they’ll remember things they might not have otherwise remembered. I want them to know who I was, that there was more to me than the person who folded their laundry and made sure their homework was finished on time…  in telling their story, I’m telling mine.

For more on the Spin Cycle, visit Sprite’s Keeper.

In keeping with blogging tradition I’m posting “100 Things About Myself”, not that I think anyone cares (hell, I don’t even care and it’s my post), but because… well, it’s tradition.

1.) I have an extremely short attention span. I never thought I would finish 10 posts, let alone 100.
2.) I love to read. I’ll read anything, even back issues of Reader’s Digest.
3.) I love the words “knackered” and “wonky”.
4.) I hate the words “panties” and “refreshing”.
5.) I don’t think Patrick Dempsey is very hot.
6.) I cuss like a sailor.
7.) I was hit by a car when I was 17.
8.) I lived.
9.) Mark and I have been married for 12 years.
10. ) I was 4 months pregnant when we were married, which is why no one (including me) thought it would last. Statistically speaking, we shouldn’t have lasted as long as we have.
11.) Mark is a saint… he has to be to put up with my huge array of shit.
12.) I love soggy nachos from 7-11 and movie theater popcorn.
13.) As much as I joke around about living in KY and calling myself a hillbilly, I love it here. Besides, who am I kidding? I was a hillbilly long before we moved here.
14.) I giggle every time I write the word KY.
15.) I can’t sleep with any part of my body hanging off the edge of the bed.
16.) My favorite movies are The Breakfast Club, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, and Harry Potter 1-5.
17.) I have three kids… Gage (12), Carter (9), and Ryerson (3).
18.) My kids are awesome… even when they’re being a pain in the ass, they’re hilarious.
19.) My favorite song is Something Good This Way Comes, by Jakob Dylan… this week. Last week it was Straight To Hell, by Hank Williams III
20.) I’m extremely anal. I’ve loosened up a lot in the last few years, but I still haven’t broken myself of the habit of lining up the remotes every night before I go to bed.
21.) I’m not sure if that’s analness or OCD.
22.) I’m having a hard time coming up with 100 things about myself… I’m very boring.
23.) If I’m ever interesting, I’ll be sure and let you know.
24.) That’s my Twitter bio.
25.) I actually considered cheating and using past tweets for this, but I don’t always tone it down a notch on Twitter.
26.) I’ve read each of the Harry Potter books at least five times and Gage and I stood in line at midnight when the final book was released.
27.) I haven’t written anything I will be ashamed for my kids to read when they’re older… and I never will. There are lines I’ve drawn for myself that I’ll never cross. My kids read the posts I write about them just because I would never want to embarrass them, even unintentionally, and they have final approval.
28.) I don’t have a cell phone… and I have no desire to own one. I think they’re annoying.
29.) Mark is definitely the grown-up in our relationship… he’s still annoyed with me for flinging peas at him during dinner. My kids still talk about it.
30.) My name is pronounced “SammanTHUH”, not “SammanTHEEUH”. I hate it when people mispronounce my name. Occasionally someone will ask, “Are you sure that’s how you spell your name?”. Duh.
31.) I don’t particularly care for ice cream or chocolate. I’m a freak of nature.
32.) I was voted “Least Likely To Be Seen In Class” in high school… learning was never my strong point. I was there to socialize.
33.) I’m a terrible driver… I consider myself lucky to be alive. I was once pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the highway at 2 o’ clock in the morning (yes, I was sober)… I didn’t even get a ticket.
34.) I also have a terrible sense of direction. I once went along with Mark on a business trip to Chicago… I left the motel a 8 o’ clock in the morning to go shopping at an outlet mall thirty minutes away. I finally got back to the motel shortly after 5, without ever having set foot in the mall. I ended up in Wisconsin.
35.) I warm up a cup of coffee 3-4 times before I actually finish it… it drives Mark and the kids insane because the microwave is always beeping.
36.) I’m a night owl.
37.) I don’t do mornings… Mark and the kids have learned not to talk to me until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee.
38.) I have a small birthmark in the shape of the United States on my leg and a tiny freckle where Portland would be.
39.) I bear a striking resemblance to Peppermint Patty. I blame the hair.
39.) I will sometimes edit a post two weeks after I’ve posted it.
40.) Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m only on number forty.
41.) I’ve heard there’s a special place in Heaven for mothers… I’m hoping there’s hot waiters and a bar.
42.) I have a guilty conscience, which makes it impossible for me to lie.
43.) I should probably shave my legs more often that what I do… Mark thinks it’s funny to call me “Sasquatch”.
44.) I have a lazy eye that isn’t noticeable unless I’m tired.
45.) My favorite colors are pink and orange.
46.) I love James Taylor.
47.) I watched The Titanic in the theater three times.
48.) I love JuJuBees, but I don’t like the black ones because they taste like licorice. I don’t like licorice.
49.) Unlike most women, I’m not all that into shoes. Purses are my weakness.
50.) I love old movies… Roman Holiday is my favorite.
51.) I’ve never had a manicure.
52.) I have freckles.
53.) I’m very naive when it comes to sex or anything possibly sexually related… I thought french kissing was something people only did in France until I was in the 8th grade.
54.) I’ve been up since 4 o’ clock this morning… I’ve done two loads of laundry, picked up the house, and wrapped six presents.
55.) I voted for John McCain.
56.) I don’t iron Mark’s shirts… he irons his own shirts. My anal nature makes it impossible for me to iron a shirt in less than twenty minutes so Mark takes pity on me and irons his own clothes.
57.) My eyes are hazel.
58.) I wear contacts.
59.) I love to shop.
60.) My middle name is Lea.
61.) My nickname in high school was “Smurphy”.
62.) I’m pretty strict with my kids… sometimes they hate me for it, but I hope one day they’ll thank me for it.
63.) Shortly before we moved to KY (giggle), I found a small lump on my back. I had it removed and a biopsy was done. The test results came back abnormal and I was told it was either a.) nothing b.) vascular disease or c.) cancer.
64.) Obviously it was nothing, but the week I had to wait for the results was one of the longest weeks of my life… I was scared to death.
65.) I love to cook.
66.) I’m not much of a baker.
67.) I knew when I married Mark he would be a great dad.
68.) I was right.
69.) I usually am. Wink.
70.) I hate winter.
71.) I pass out at the sight of blood… when Carter fell out of a tree and needed stitches (it was so bad the plastic surgeon took before/after pictures to take with him to a medical convention) I had to pull over on the way to the emergency room because I was seeing spots and felt dizzy.
72.) My favorite tv show is Brothers and Sisters.
73.) I joke around about being flat-chested but I’m happy with what I have. I’m only 5′1… if my chest were any bigger I’d look like a pepper mill.
74.) As far as I know, the closest Starbucks is an hour away… that shit ain’t right.
75.) I would rather have one or two close friends than a lot of so-so ones.
76.) I love autobiographies.
77.) Being a stay-at-home mom is a lot harder than it sounds and nothing pisses me off more than people who say, “Oh, you don’t work? Must be nice, I wish I could sit around all day.” I bust my ass around here.
78.) I grind my teeth when I sleep so bad I’ve worn them down… my teeth are completely flat.
79.) I’m Irish and have the temper to prove it… I’m very unconfrontational, but if someone pisses me off, especially when it comes to my kids, I will say something.
80.) I don’t usually wear much make-up, but I won’t walk to the mailbox without wearing cover-up.
81.) Mark refuses to play Monopoly with me… I kick his ass every time. He doesn’t mind losing, it’s the fact that I rub it in every time that annoys him.
82.) Mark and I rarely fight, but frequently piss each other off.
83.) I don’t actually expect anyone to read this drivel… I’m even boring myself.
84.) I’ve never spent time in a Turkish prison.
85.) When I was a baby, my pediatrician told my mom to give me whiskey water for an upset stomach. She actually did it.
86.) I’ve never given my kids whiskey… that’s not to say I’ve never been tempted.
87.) I’m just kidding. Sort of.
88.) Sometimes I want to give up blogging and take up scrapbooking instead.
89.) Mark is my best friend… he’s awesome and I’m lucky to be married to him.
90.) That’s not to say that sometimes he’s not a pain in the ass. Hi, honey.
91.) I’ve had my nose pierced once and my belly button pierced twice.
92.) I have one tattoo… I’d like one more but I haven’t decided what I want.
93.) I still have scars from when I was four and had the chicken pox.
94.) I’ve only had stitches once when I cut my foot on a candle… don’t ask me how I did it, I still can’t figure it out.
95.) I’ve never been abducted by aliens.
96.) I believe in ghosts.
97.) I have baby fine hair that makes it impossible to do anything with. I hate it.
98.) I don’t have many regrets, if any.
99.) I watched Britney: Off The Record. Twice. Please disregard number ninety-eight.
100.) I’ve never been so happy to be finished with a post in my life and I’m so sorry for putting you through this… as a peace offering I’d like to once again extend my apologies and a 42″ widecreen tv (I’m totally kidding).

Mark and I aren’t really into buying presents for each other, we never have been. As hokey as it sounds, we’re happy spending all of our money on things for the kids this time of year and watching them unwrap their presents Christmas morning. I honestly don’t remember the last time Mark and I bought each other anything for Christmas… if I remember right, it was in 2002.

It isn’t because of the money… we’re just not all that into presents. The fact that I did buy him a pair of Oakley sunglasses for Father’s Day was only because he wanted them, and if you knew Mark, you would know he doesn’t ask for much. He’s happy wearing clothes he’s had for years (I did manage to talk him into buying himself a few new shirts when we went shopping Saturday… I’m going through his closet today and throwing away shirts that are missing buttons and fraying around the edges. He’ll be pissed but it’ll be worth it just to see him having no choice but to wear the shirts I bought him as opposed to the shirts he usually wears that a homeless person wouldn’t be caught dead in) and other than frequently asking for The Sex (which is free, but a bitch to wrap), he doesn’t usually ask for anything. I don’t ask for much because if there’s something I want, then I buy it myself… I don’t have the patience to wait until Christmas.

However, when there is a present waiting for me underneath the tree, that’s not to say my curiosity won’t eventually get the best of me, and I’m ashamed to admit I snoop.

I’m a snooper. 

I remember carefully unwrapping presents when I was younger (with the help of an exacto knife… an exacto knife leaves less of a paper trail) (did you get that? I totally punned), eager to see what was inside, and one year I went as far as wearing a sweater to school that was meant to be worn after Christmas (I hid it in my backpack and changed my clothes on the way to the bus stop… my parents never knew, until now) (hi, mom. hi, dad) that I had found hidden in the trunk of my mom’s car (seriously, mom… the trunk? That was the first place Todd and I looked).

I know, I’m terrible.

When I woke up Friday morning Mark had already gone shopping and the proof was hastily wrapped underneath the tree. I didn’t bother pouring myself a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette, which is usually the first thing I do in the morning, and instead I launched myself at Mark with the shameless tenacity of Hilary Clinton in her bid for the White House.

“What is it? TELL ME!”

Mark said nothing, he just smiled, enjoying the moment in which he knew something, something big, and I didn’t.

I continued to badger him relentlessly, knowing he would eventually give in. I’ve learned from the masters… Gage, Carter, and Ryerson… and I knew sooner or later he would say, “Fine, dammit!” just because the constant nagging was making his ears bleed.

I was right.

Eventually he did give in, but not before telling me he should have gone with his first instinct, which was to drive to work after buying my present and hiding it there, where I would never find it. I think he he meant to make me feel guilty when he told me I was robbing him of the joy he would feel watching me open my present alongside the kids Christmas morning.

“I’ll live. Besides, you told me this was something we would both have fun with… I’m only nagging because you know deep down you wanna open it. I’m doing it for you.”

“Pfft. You’re doing it because you have the self control of a drug addict set loose in the Red Light District.”

True… very true.

I slowly opened my present, savoring every moment (at that point he was dying for me to open my present, but I wanted to watch him squirm as payback for making me wait twelve whole hours… don’t let him fool ya’, he’s just as bad as I am) and finally, after I could put it off no longer, I pulled my present from the box.

I have the best husband EVAH!

Mark bought me laptop… a shiny black/silver laptop with NVDIA Geforce GO 8200M graphics, integrated 5-in-1 digital media reader, and 15.4″ diagonal widescreen display, which allows the user to view videos and movies in high definition (I have no idea what that means, I’m reading the label). I no longer have to beg the kids to write posts and twitter myself pay bills and donate money to charities online… I love it.

Mark and I bought a router two weeks ago so that we could download games onto the Wii (hence my love of Mario, in spite of the nasty names I call him… I LOVE old school Super Mario Bros! Finally, a game I can actually play, instead of wandering aimlessly until one of the kids take pity on me and say, “Here, just gimme the controller”) so everything was good to go and within one hour I was online and didn’t have to leave the comfort of our couch to do it… it was awesome.

Between the Wii and my laptop I may never leave my living room again.

I have much to be thankful for this year… I’m thankful for the fact I’ve finally found a brand of jeans that doesn’t assume every woman in the world is 6′1 (thank you, Buckle Harbor jeans… I am forever in your debt), therefore elimating my need for heels so that my pants don’t drag on the floor. I’m thankful for Undomestic Diva (who was also kind enough to send me Starbucks coffee… for that I am eternally grateful) and FADKOG, because they, too, see a future in “Eh, They’re Alright Blogger” calendar (title courtesy of Undomestic Diva) as opposed to the “Hottest Blogger” calendar… us average looking girls need love, too.

I’m thankful for my new Dr. Marten shoes that make me want to kiss my feet at the end of the day (rather than cut them off at the ankle) and Krispy Creme donuts. I’m thankful for my dentist, who told me last week I was cavity-free (you would be thankful, too… my last appointment cost me over $2000. I still think I was screwed… having a crown wasn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it would be). I’m thankful for Sprite’s Keeper, despite her perfectly tweezed eyebrows and naturally curly hair, and the fact that Britney Spears has at long last ditched crazy and is now remembering to wear underwear in public.

I’m thankful for Brothers and Sisters and Gaming With Baby, who was kind enough to send me WiiPoints so I can now happily spend my day stomping on turtles and calling Mario a mother… well, nevermind. I’m thankful the elastic in my underwear has held up in spite of my love of cheesecake and sticky buns (with that said, let it be known that I am one piece of cheesecake away from stretchy pants) and Hugh Laurie.

But most of all, I’m thankful to be alive… I have stared death in the face, wrestled it to the ground, and RISEN VICTORIOUS!!!

I have lived through the flu. Yes… the flu.

I have gone through what no person should have to go through, and I wouldn’t wish the past five days on anyone, including Heidi Montag. I’ve had to clean the bathroom when Gage decided to throw up and missed the toilet by three feet and Mark was too sick to clean the bathroom so I was left with no other choice than to clean up the mess myself (I don’t normally do puke. I usually yell “I’ll pour the 7-Up, you clean it up!” and run away before he realizes what’s happened… SUCKA!).

I’ve had to check Ryerson’s pants every time he farts, because somehow him having to fart has meant me having to do another load of laundry (Mark decided this morning would be a good time to let one fly… Ryerson looked at Mark and said, ”Daddy, you have a wet butt”… you try explaining to a 3 year old that just because someone has farted doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ve just shat in their pants).

I’ve had to crawl out of bed at 2 o’ clock in the morning to change Ryerson’s sheets because he was so sick he threw up in his sleep.

Damn you, sloppy joes! DAMN YOU!

In spite of my suffering, I was thankful for the fact that I was well enough so that I could hand them a bucket and tell them not to breathe on me take care of everyone. I knew it was too late for me, so I pulled Carter close, told him I loved him, and gently stroked his hair.

And then I let him go.

“RUN, before it’s too late! SAVE YOUSELF!”

I was right… it was too late. Carter managed to escape unscathed… I, however, was not so lucky. I knew when I crawled out of bed Tuesday morning that my time was up, but I wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. I vacuuumed and dusted my way through denial, muttering to myself and shaking my head, in spite of my chills.

“No, no, NO! I’ve done nothing to deserve this. I’ve gladly cleaned up after everyone and I did what needed to be done ALL BY MYSELF! Okay, maybe not gladly, but I bit my tongue after Gage threw up in the bathtub when the toilet was RIGHT THERE! I smiled when Ryerson sharted and said, “Oops, I did it again!” FOR THE SIXTH TIME THAT DAY!”

I thought I had paid my dues… apparently not.

I went to bed yesterday at 11 o’ clock and not even the promise of Super Mario Bros. could rouse me from my achy stupor. I’ve thrown up toast and begged Mark to put me out of my misery. I’ve watched “The Suite Life Of Zach and Cody” because I was too sick to change the channel and was french kissed by a dog because my catlike reflexes weren’t up to snuff. I’ve sweat my way through three pairs of pajamas and at one point I thought I saw Jesus.

This morning when I crawled out of bed I felt almost human… I ate an entire saltine cracker without having to make a mad dash to the bathroom (sorry about that, Molly… I didn’t mean to run you over) (what goes around, comes around, and I’m thinking my having been french kissed by a dog is karma for tripping over her on way to the bathroom… karma’s a bitch, people, and tastes like kibble) shortly after. I played Super Mario Bro. and I knew I was feeling better when I called Mario a mother… well, nevermind. Ryerson hasn’t had an accident today and Gage ventured out of his bedroom long enough to play Runescape and call Carter an idiot. Mark is obviously feeling better… I’ve never seen him run as fast as I did when I told him maybe the pizza rolls I ate for dinner tonight weren’t such a good idea. At first I thought he was running for cover, but instead he brought me a bucket.

That, my friends, is true love.

We managed to survive, the five of us, and for that I’m thankful. I’m thankful for my family, who loves me in spite of the fact that I haven’t showered or gotten dressed in two days. I’m thankful for Mark, who loves me enough to lie to me when I ask him “How hot am I right now on a scale of one to ten?” by telling me “I’d still do ya’” (under the condition that I at least brush my teeth). I’m thankful for my kids, who love me enough to eat frozen pizza for dinner two nights in a row without complaining (much).

I’m a lucky girl, and for that I am thankful… my A cup runneth over.

For more on the Spin Cycle, visit Sprite’s Keeper.

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Last, but certainly not least, I am thankful for Blissfully Caffeinated, who bestowed upon me the FIRST EVAH T.G.I.F. Dungeons and Dragons award.

This award is given to a blogger who managed to bring a smile to a reader’s face with a single post… or, as in my case, a single photo.

The rules (of which I just now realized I’m breaking because it’s Wednesday, not Friday… I haven’t completely lost my mind, but I am hoping she’ll forgive me because of my, ya’ know… near death experience and all):

Here are the rules for this brand new T.G.I.F. award:

1. Post the award on your blog (duh.)

2. Link back to the blog that awarded it (’cause that’s a nice thing to do)

3. Award this very special T.G.I.F. award on a Friday to a blogger or bloggers who wrote something great the week prior and link to those posts.

4. Post these here T.G.I.F. rules.

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for….

I’m giving this award to Heather at Riding The Short Bus because she made me laugh out loud (I may have even peed a little) while reading about her own brush with death. Not only is she not afraid to walk through Target while holding a handful of her son’s puke, she blogged about it, and that is awesome and deserving of an award… solidarity, sister. Solidarity.

A few weeks ago I dragged Carter to see the movie High School Musical 3… I’m not embarrassed to admit I shamelessly bribed him with Pepsi and a tub of popcorn big enough to swim in if he would be my “date” for the evening so that I could ogle Zac Efron. Carter reluctantly agreed (after making it clear that he thought I was “weird” for wanted to see HSM3… I didn’t bother correcting him. My desire to see HSM3 had nothing to do with wanting to see the actual movie and everything to do with Zac Efron… he is delicious) and complained the entire time.

“This movie is stupid.”

“Shhh. I’m watching Zac Efron, er, the movie… be quiet.”

He suffered in silence, only allowing himself the occasional heavy sigh and dramatic eye rolling to covey his extreme displeasure at having to sit through an entire movie made up of singing, dancing, and the occasional kiss (to which he voiced his disgust by gagging into his sleeve).

He was such a trooper I rewarded him yesterday afternoon by taking him to see the movie Twilight, a movie he actually wanted to see (I asked Gage if he wanted to go, but he’s 12… he would rather run naked through the hallways of middle school than be seen with watching a movie in public with his mom and younger brother. He went with his friend, Josh, to see the movie Quantum Solace… he loved it).

The movie was awesome… we LOVED it!

It was only twenty minutes into the movie before Carter turned to me and said, “Mom, this movie is AWESOME! We HAVE to buy it when it comes out on dvd!”, and he had to pee for thirty minutes before he would tear himself away from the movie long enough to go to the bathroom. When the movie was finished and we left it was all he could talk about on the way home.

“OhmygoshthatmoviewassoawesomeIloveditcanwegetitwhenitcomesoutondvdcanwe
canwehuhIwishIwasavampirethatwouldbesocool.”

I loved Twilight just as much as Carter, and shortly after we got home I went to Walmart so that I could buy the third book in the series and I finished it in less than two days (I didn’t take a shower yesterday because I couldn’t tear myself from Eclipse. By the time I finished reading the book it was 7 o’clock and I didn’t see the point any more… personal hygiene, be damned) (obviously I liked the third book a lot better than I did the first two… I wasn’t impressed with the first two books in the series, even though I did fall hopelessly a little bit in love with Edward… I know, I’m such a cliche) (I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen a movie that I liked better than the book… huh).

Mark and I are going to see Twilight sometime in the next few weeks (I told him he has to see it, and it gives me a reason to see it again) and maybe then I can do what I wanted to when I watched the movie with Carter (I restrained myself thinking it would be inappropriate) and when Edward unbuttons his shirt to show Bella his bedazzled self in the sunlight, I can stand up on my seat and throw my bra at the movie screen while screaming,

“Take it off, Edward! TAKE IT OFF!!!”

That would be awesome.