Is it Friday yet?

Do you ever pretend that Thursday is Friday, or at least dream it is?  There are two Thursdays a month which are almost considered sacred here.  They are the days that my house is cleaned - not by me.  I never knew the joy of having your entire house completely cleaned at one time until a lady named Selma came into my life.  Yet, another cancer blessing, I'll have to say to all those years I cleaned one room a day in a never ending cycle, and looked at the high shelves that I didn't dust with guilt, "what was I thinking?"  I have a bit of a vacuuming disorder which continues to persist but otherwise, I have really learned to let go of a lot.  Stephen was appalled one Thursday when I spilled a few drops of coffee on the floor and didn't wipe it up immediately and then he said, "oh, Selma's coming."  Some people like massages, pedicures, Bikram Yoga, but I personally like a clean house.

So, tonight we ordered pizza and sat outside - I wouldn't dare mess up that kitchen - until dark and much after and watched our kids squeeze out the last bit of summer.  Because these are the days they will remember - sidewalk chalk hopscotch, practicing their fake touchdown and then victory dance, flying like the wind on a scooter with flashing wheels, and making up cheers in the front yard.  At least, I will remember it.  I sit on the driveway with the sole purpose of traffic control - I even bought those little green fake plastic children - Fred and Ethel - that you see holding flags and it's not above me to put those things in the middle of the road.  I find great joy in watching people slow down at the sight of those alien people.  When it got too dark for playing in the street, we went inside for a lesson on how to make rainbow bracelets out of tiny rubberbands - fascinatingly entertaining.  I can't wait to wear my new bracelet.

We finally gave Joe, the African Dwarf frog, a proper burial around the tree by the other small creatures.  Bailey makes each of them their own headstone and writes their name on them, a practice that I find very endearing and worth the sacrifice of our landscaping rocks.  We have buried quite a few fish since our first one that he won when he was 3 at the fair - all because his daddy was trying to shut him up about being scared of rides - great plan.  It cost at least 50 bucks to house the free fish only to discover that he had jumped out of the tank and plunged to his death a few days later.  Being the mom that I was and not wanting to explain death to my perceptive little 3 year old, I replaced these 29 cent fish about every week without him knowing for 2 or 3 months.  It was quite exhausting to orchestrate the distract, go to Petco, and replace plan, but I made it work for a while until I just finally had to lay it on the line and be straight with him.  And he said, "oh, ok, can we get two this time?"  It was then that I realized that whatever fears, experiences, and anxieties about death that I had were certainly not shared by my 3 year old and I was not doing either of us any good by pretending that those fish had nine lives.  After all, he's way smarter than me.

We ended tonight making sandwiches - human ones.   Bailey, Kate, and I like to take turns being the bread and the bologna.  They find it hysterically funny to pile on top of each other and try not to fall off.  Poor Kate always wants to be the bottom bread but she's really a panini after we squish her down so we usually let her be the topper.  Either way, it's quite funny and I get to hug and squeeze my two favorite short people while they giggle.

I'm so excited for this weekend will bring - looking so forward to the family picnic fundraiser for the Melanoma Research Foundation.  We are already amazed at how inspired people are to give and to support us and look forward to the actual race October 19th.  Hope to see you Saturday, or at least somewhere in the world wearing an obnoxious pink t-shirt!