And so, another Thanksgiving bites the dust.

Because we didn’t have “company”* this year, our traditional dinner was surprisingly relaxed (for my family). The boys kept their usual eating habits – which is to say that Daniel had two breakfasts, “No Eating at the table for Me, Mommy!”**, and followed that up with snacks throughout the day. Joe, on the other hand, had one of Mom’s carbohydrate-bomb pancakes, two plates** at lunch, and then soup AND a pb&j for supper. My daughter dined en suite as has become her habit of late.

So what all am I thankful for, you might ask….

My children are happy, healthy, well-fed, and intelligent creatures and I delight in them every day. (Even right now, with Dan out of bed (at 10:24PM) asking me “Can I have something that tastes good?”)

Though living with my parents isn’t the easiest thing on the planet, we manage.

I still haven’t decided “what I want to be when I grow up”, but I’m enjoying school a LOT.

Though online friends still significantly outnumber IRL friends, progress has been made in that arena – some by pulling online friends through the Glowing Blue Box, and some through school.

I’m thankful for StumbleUpon – without which I’d probably get a lot more done.

And last but certainly not least, I’m thankful for the turkey-induced tryptophan haze that I’m going to succumb to right this minute.

Goodnight, everyone, and Happy Thanksgiving. *hugs your neck and kisses your cheek*

*“Company” is defined by Mom as “anyone who does not live in this house”. As such, The House MUST Be Spotless And Perfect (or as close as we can get). It makes for a rather stressful holiday, since she is also the Only One Who Knows How to Clean in this house. Over the years, I’ve learned that it’s *much* easier to stay the hell out of her way and listen to her mutter “lazy” than to attempt cleaning. And re-cleaning. And cleaning again. And THEN her going behind you saying “Get out of the way I’ll just doit myself!”.

**I do not, as a general rule, feed my children at the same table as my Dad. Eating at his table is a contact sport, and if you don’t defend your plate with knife and fork, your food WILL be messed with. Yes, I’ve asked/begged/screamed for him to stop. It’d be easier to dam Niagara Falls with Legos.