Last night I had a dream that Geekster was made captain of one of seven space shuttles, all of which were taking off simultaneously on some cosmic mission. I remember feeling so incredibly proud of him and, of course, bragging my ass off to everyone who could hear me.

Then I woke up and felt kind of bad for the bragging.

This dream taught me two things:

1. I've been watching far too many space movies lately (can't help it - Captain Kirk and Han Solo are dreamy dudes) and,

2. After sixteen years, I still think a great deal of my husband

Let's face it: Life has been shit on toast the last few months. The Maven family has had a series of unfortunate events that, while not exactly book or movie worthy, have thrown us for a loop or two. We faced a minor health crisis, a serious money crunch, some fluctuations in our social circle, a small fire, and a whole bucket load of 'Why is this all happening at once?!' This has undoubtedly been our worst year in at least a decade.

But he's been there, that man of mine. A shining example of this was how, when we couldn't afford anything for each other on Valentine's Day, he woke up early and made pink pancakes for the entire family. I married an amazing guy.

He's been solid footing when life feels almost treacherous; a warm campfire when the path is dark and cold. I could come up with many other cheesy metaphors - I'm quite good at them, you know - but I think the point has been made without making you gag on my sappiness. While stress has certainly not passed my darling husband by, he's been the incredible best friend to me that he always is, and for that I'm very grateful.

In fact, I'm feeling a whole crapload of gratitude lately. Back when I was quitting the sauce, I was taught by the wise recovery gurus that gratitude and optimism are sometimes all a girl's got to hitch her sanity to in times of extreme sucktitude, lest she go out for a pint or ten. I've carried that knowledge all these years within my soul.

Uh, I mean my fat cells, which is clearly why I carry the extra weight around. It all makes sense now, doesn't it? Someone pass the bag of chips; It's for a good cause.

So, in lieu of writing yet another depressing post about how we had to spend our grocery money to fix my windshield and Geekster's birthday money on groceries, I'm going to take a few moments to mention the good things in my life.

I know: big of me, right? Just flexing my well-used optimism muscle, that's all.

I've already mentioned my husband. He gets top billing. Then there are these beautiful little guys. Here they are this afternoon, smiling widely and loving life:



You're right: I'm full of it. They were totally fighting when I took those.

I'm also grateful for Spawnling's drawings. Like all good artists, his work is able to invoke several emotions simultaneously. When I see his work, I'm first proud that he's drawing sensible shapes.




Then I'm a little annoyed that every single one of them is either Spawnling and daddy, Daddy being a rock star, or some inanimate object. You'd think having given birth to the ten pound turkey, I might get my own cracked-out single-celled organism look-alike, but apparently not.

And finally I laugh a little, because they're gosh darn cute, just like their maker. And their maker's maker, obviously.

I'm grateful for the family members who have stepped up and helped out with babysitting so Geekster and I can preserve our sanity and our coupledom, bought outerwear for the kids so we don't have to worry about clothing three gremlins for next year's winter season, given us a hand up financially until things get better, and just been generally supportive and understanding.

I'm grateful for the friends who text just to tell me they care, tow away the gremlins to make our house less chaotic for a little while, take me out for breakfast, drop by with coffee, and listen to my incessant complaints about Murphy and his damn law.

It's really hard to be depressed around you guys. You give me little opportunity to drown my sorrows in melted chocolate. Thank you.

Husband, gremlins, creepy/adorable pictures, family, friends. That's five, right? Counting is hard this evening. I went skating with Gutsy's grade 1 class and accompanying grade 6 class today. After tying that many skates and watching a kit throw up in a garbage can a few times, my brain is a little fuzzy.

Oh! And finally, I'm grateful it wasn't my kid throwing up in the garbage can. That's six.