Smoke and mirrors, my friends

As you glance at these pictures it will appear that our Thanksgiving weekend was calm, cool and filled with small children getting along. But don't let my slick photography skills fool 'ya! 5 kids, 4 and under just doesn't end up that way.

I was shocked, though as I looked over and realized that 3 of the kids at the "kids" table were actually mine. I mean, wasn't it just a few years ago that I was at the kids table? Geez!
I almost didn't put these Thanksgiving day photos up because by the time the holiday is nearly a week past, it just seems pointless. But then I had a moment of clarity. It occurred to me that I am still making up for lost bloggy time. Even this morning I remembered that I hadn't checked in on McMommy and her family yet. I raced home from our weekend away to see how Kelly and Melanie had fared over their holiday.

I talk of these ladies as if they are my friends. But sadly, they are not. I'm pretty sure at least 2 of the 3 would really like me if they met me. Even if I am a Yankee. (I have an odd obsession with blogs written by Southerners.) Go figure.

So I figured, if I had a *need* to check out their holiday pics, someone out there (can I get at least one hand?) might want to see a picture of my boys looking at a ceramic tree (which they promptly broke several minutes after this picture was taken.)

My love for spying (its surely not voyeurism!) began in college as my roommates and I discovered an addictive little show called The Real World on MTV. I know you know it! There were Saturdays my roommates and I didn't even get dressed because we would be enthralled in a Real World marathon. If you don't know what that is (bless your heart) it is when MTV decides to own you for a day and show backtobacktoback episodes of the show *in case* you missed a few along the way. After 8 hours of tv watching, your mind becomes utterly useless and its time to go to the bars to help bring some clarity back.

NOT some of my finer hours. In fact, I remember the cloud of depression that hit the day I realized, I was in fact, now too old to apply to be on the show (I think you can be no older than 23 or something like that. Go figure.)

Anyhow, I was reminded of my start to reality obsessions last night when Steve and I had some friends over.

Somehow (our friend Scott was roommates with a guy on The Real World, Philadelphia) we got to talking about the show and how certain people on the show become *friends* and yada yada yada.

I might have divulged my college obsession and found that Scott and I had a similar affinity toward the second season where they lived in L.A. (can I get a witness?)

At which point, Scott whips out his cell phone and scrolls down to Jon Brennan's phone number. (It's another long story of how he got it and I won't go into it. Suffice it to say that his ex-roommate, the Philly Real World guy comes in handy!)

Somehow, I reverted to my 20 year old self and may have let out a short but deafening scream. YOU HAVE HIS NUMBER???!!!

And then, with my husband sitting across the room, I may have also yelled, "Ohmygosh, let's call him!" And then I belly laughed like I haven't for a long time. Because I think I might have been serious for a few seconds.

Well, all of that to say, I have a deep rooted illness with all things reality. Blogging is just my 37 year old, stay at home mommy version. But hey, if MTV wanted to move me to a mansion in some sah-weet city with other SAHM's I'd totally be up for it.

So, MTV...call me, okay?