What if...

Our house is trashed. A total mess. It often happens on the weekends, at least on the really good weekends. Bed sheet forts...cozy, made for movie-watching palates...6 wet towels from 6 wet kids...Saturday's play clothes...Sunday's church shoes...all over the place.

Upside: If a burglar enters the premises, he'll turn around and leave, thinking we've already been hit.

Downside: Someone has got to clean this place up and all signs point to it being me.

Have you heard of Webkinz? They're sort of the Beanie Babies of the next generation. Just a little stuffed toy, overpriced of course, with an attached "secret" code that grants access to a web wonderland. The kids' Mimi sent them a little package a couple weeks ago, a card with some spending money came along with. Since indoor activities were on our agenda while Luke recovered, I finally took Lily to get her first Webkinz. She'd be asking for quite awhile, long before I had a clue what a Webkinz was. Luke wasn't with us when we shopped for her perfect pet, but I picked him up one too, just in case. The Black Lab for Lily, the Elephant for Luke. Katelyn and Elly, respectively.

Big hit! They both love their Webkinz. The cute little stuffed animals go everywhere we go, and the web world of games and activities keeps them entertained. In monitored intervals of course!

But there is one problem. My problem.

You're probably thinking the "Web" in Webkinz is for the "web," the internet. Nope. It's for web, as in a trap...tangled up, ensnared. I'm hooked. I sneak on all the time, enter the little world, and play, play, play. I turn the volume really low so the kids won't hear me and ask for a turn. I mine and sell rare gems, I spin the Wheel of Wow with bated breath, I play Quizzy's Word Challenge and Cash Cow until my eyes glaze over. I shop. With Kinz Cash.

It's sick, I know. I actually found myself standing in the store holding a Lil' Kinz the other day, on the verge of purchasing it so I could have my own animal, my own access code, my own "room" to decorate, and wouldn't have to run all my "purchases" by a tight fisted 5 and 6 year old.

I feel David's confused and slightly annoyed stare burning into my back as I play in the evenings while he watches TV. He knows me well enough to know I'll get bored soon so I don't think he's too concerned. But I'm not bored yet...so I wonder why I'm wasting time here!

Summer has been quite a roller coaster. I'm sure everyone can relate in their own way. Remember that silly, naive post several weeks ago about taking it easy, smooth sailing on the horizon? Whatever. We had about two peaceful weeks. Then the 5 year old check up that sent everything into a spiral. We rushed the kids to Florida to maximize their vacation time before Luke had surgery, then we went for a week, then we came home and brought my mom along, then Luke had surgery, now Luke's recovering wonderfully, and Grandma June has returned home. But then the fish died. In the past few weeks, if I've said it once, I've said it 100 times: when things get back to normal...

We'll get the kids back on track with a regular bedtime, when things get back to normal. Their behavior will improve, when things get back to normal. My patience will be renewed, when things get back to normal. I'll get caught up on my Bible study, have more regular quiet times, reconnect with David, catch up with friends, get those "to do list" items checked off, be more consistent in my leadership roles, cook dinner more often...when things get back to normal.

I think I've figured out, if I keep waiting for "normal," we're in trouble.

Tuesday, after dropping my mom off at the airport, Luke and I stopped by David's office on our drive home. As we were leaving, I said something like, Well, with vacation over, surgery behind us, and Mom gone, I guess life will just go back to normal.

What's that? he said back to me.

Hmmmm. Good question. What is that? And if I don't even know what it looks like, why am I waiting for it, and how will I know when it's happened?

I think I need to be writing an obit for my blog, that seems to be dying a slow death...no post for almost a week?...and that's become the norm?! What a slacker. But before I pronounce it dead, I'll try my hardest to resuscitate it over the coming weeks. But beyond resuscitation:

Luke, beautiful blue Betta fish, is dead.

Luke the fish, 3 month pet of Luke the boy, has died a tragic death. Luke's native origin is unknown but as a young fish, he spent time in the murky waters of the Walmart pet department. Most recently, he resided in a lovely tank on Luke the boy's bookshelf. He is survived and grieved (kind of) by Luke, the boy, and Lily, the boy's sister. Mom and Dad are sharing in the children's surprisingly mild disappointment. Luke the fish enjoyed leisure days of swimming, breathing and eating. He recently enjoyed a 9 day stay on the Wheeler piano, and the family is grateful Luke was able to see the world (another living room) before his untimely death. Services were held around the ceramic circle, at 10:30 p.m. on July 22, with Dad officiating (flushing). Mom was too distraught (grossed out) to attend services. In lieu of flowers, the family has asked that no one ever mention the fish again, in hopes that Luke, the boy, will soon forget Luke, the fish, so that a replacement will not be necessary.

Yesterday started with a 4:45 a.m. alarm followed by an early morning surgery. The day ended with David doing tricks with a pink light-up jump rope. I'm sure that leaves room for a lot of questions. I would also like to offer a simple word of praise to the drugs that gave a very nervous 5 year old a goofy grin that could rival the late Heath Ledger's Joker. And blue pee. Gotta love blue pee. And light up jump ropes that end a long, mental exhausting day on a silly note. It was nice to see the same daddy who'd worn out the waiting room carpet with his pacing, relaxed and smiling at the end of the day.

Back from vacation. Back to the real world. Back to blogging (maybe?). We headed to FL two Thursdays ago and returned late Saturday evening. After a day to rest and recover from a very busy week and a long, rainy, drive home, we reentered "life" today. David's back to work, Lily's back to allergy shots, Luke's back to Luke (the fish). It's good to be back.


I'll try and post some great vacation moments, sorry no pics, I left our camera on the mantle here at home!

I miss the way Lily "helps" in the kitchen. I miss tripping over the stool she stands on, wiping up the extra spills and hearing her say "oopsie" when the mess happens...and believe me, the mess will happen.

I miss the way Luke tells me he's "starbin" for "brekstas" but then doesn't eat a bite, only to actually be hungry an hour later, when he's "brekstas" is cold or soggy.

I miss the way Lily acts surprised when I say "Yes" to her request, whatever it may be, like a snack, outside time, etc...as if she is a deprived child who rarely experiences joy.

I miss the way Luke says "Woo-hoo" when Lily shares the good news about my affirmative response to her various requests. Woo-hoo, high pitched and excited, never fails.

I miss hearing Lily recite the prayer Luke learned in preschool, with one eye open and one hand on her dinner fork, as she waits to hear his complaint.

I miss Luke fussing over the prayer, calling it "his prayer" as if he's the first child to have ever learned the "God Our Father" blessing song.

I miss Lily asking me to tell her "good dreams" before she falls asleep.

I miss Luke telling me he loves me "to God and back eight hundred and sixty-nine million times." That's a lot of lovin'.

I miss Lily stepping out of her room nightly to tell us it's "smokin' hot" in there and she just can't sleep. The upstairs is much warmer than down, but rarely "smokin" and she's usually asleep within the next five minutes.

I miss Luke telling me his room is too dark and scary, even though his Lightening McQueen night lite brightly illuminates the room, and light is still peeking through the blinds on these long summer days.

I miss Lily's rare, but heart felt, hugs and kisses.

I miss Luke's frequent, can't-get-close-enough, hugs and kisses.

I miss the way Lily acts coy when her daddy walks in the door, as if it's no big deal, even though she's so excited to see him. I often do the same thing.

I miss the way Luke doesn't bother with coyness and shows unabashed excitement at his daddy's arrival each evening.

I miss my kids.