The One Where You Meet MrsBing

Hello, my name is MrsBing. I have a Twilight Saga addiction. My obsession began in November of 2008 and I was extremely skeptical, at first. I was quarantined to my house (thank you, RSV) and was pressured into reading the series. I had put it off as long as I possibly could, but finally succumbed against my better judgment (or so I believed). Thank God for that lapse in judgment. Twilight interested me, but Stephenie Meyer knew a thing or two about hooking a reader when she took Edward out of New Moon (the anticipation for him almost killed me!). I was a little frustrated with it until, oh, page 413:

“Edward,” was all she whispered.

Sigh. Of. Fucking. Relief. It wasn’t until I completed New Moon, however, that the realization of my addiction hit. Pages 413-563 had me totally and completely enraptured. Let me paint a picture for you. My husband was deployed at the time and my two kids (ages 3yrs and 6mos) used up every bit of my time during the day. Up until the relief known as page 413, I had been reading at night, while they slept, or during their naptime. I was already into the flight-to-Italy/Volturi-explanation/Alice-procures-a-Turbo goodness when my kids woke from their nap. Shit! I listened to them talking on the monitor while I kept reading. For a bit. When I started feeling insanely guilty for leaving them in their rooms for the sake of reading a book about vampires, mortals, and werewolves, I set New Moon down and brought them downstairs. I placed my son in his swing and set it into action. I turned on my daughter’s favorite 30-minute episode of Scooby-Doo. And I retained my position on the couch to continue reading. WHAT WAS MY PROBLEM?! I couldn’t stop.

In the end, my daughter watched that same episode 3 times in a row, back-to-back, on repeat, while I read. At one point she claimed to be hungry (yes, I started reading again without even getting them a post-nap snack) and, without looking up from the book, I said, “Sweetie, there are some M&M’s in the bowl on the bookcase. Help yourself.” Horrible. I’m sure I’ll go straight to the hot place for that one. She won the jackpot that afternoon in the glorious form of 90 minutes of cartoons and an unlimited supply of holiday M&M’s for snacking. I, on the other hand, was busy pleading my case for Worst Mother of the Year. Like I said, that was the defining moment for me. That was the beginning. I have a problem.