The day started off with a bang around here.

With Thanksgiving over, we set about ringing in the Christmas season. And we love Christmas.

L-O-V-E Christmas.

So we hauled out the tree, added some lights and a snowman to the house, and listened to Christmas music all morning. Joshua started feeling pretty sluggish, and by 12:30 he was sleeping on the couch under a blanket.

1:15 rolled around and you guessed it – he woke up with fever. So off to the hospital we go.

And if I could vent here for just a moment. We moved into a house built in 1957 about a year and a half ago, and we love it. It’s a great house in a greater neighborhood. But moving in, we got a home warranty protection from America’s First Warranty cause we knew some stuff would break.

Well, last Friday night the heater went out. It was blowing, but it was blowing cool air. So we called the warranty company on Saturday morning. We didn’t hear anything back until Monday, when we learned that apparently they “misplaced” the work order. A technician came out on Monday and said they had to order a part for the heater.

Tuesday came and no part.

Wednesday no part.

Thursday was Thanksgiving.

Friday, no part.

This morning they told me it would be Monday before they could come. That’s 9 days without heat. Now I know I don’t have much to complain about given our status in the world at large, but man – I am upset. I can’t help but think that going 9 days without heat might have contributed to my son going to the hospital. As you might imagine, I’ve had several really fun conversations with the company already today, none of which have been close to satisfying to me, especially since this is the 4th service call we’ve made about the heating / AC unit in the last year.

So any chance there’s a high level exec from America’s First reading our blog? If so, boy – I’d love to grab about 10 minutes of conversation with you.

Hopefully Joshua won’t have to stay overnight. We’ll keep the blog updated…

Sometimes worlds collide at playtime.

Joshua is pretty much consumed with Star Wars. At dinner, his hands become x-wing fighters. At playtime, he’s either a droid or Boba Fett or someone called Phlo Kuhn.

Andi, on the other hand, likes baby dolls. Alot. Pretty much every grown woman is someone’s mommy (always interesting when we’re walking through the supermarket and see a lady and Andi asks, “Who’s that mommy?”).

But sometimes worlds collide.

For example, on the playground today, Joshua was busy fabricating a Star Wars light saber battle. Andi was running a pretend concession stand at the swings. Then they both run up, determined that they both want to play Ninja Turtles. Here’s how it went:

Joshua: “We’re gonna play Ninja Turtles. I’m that guy with the long weapon. What’s his name? That guy. The one with the stick.”

Me: “Donatello.”

Joshua: “Yeah, I’m Donatello. And our enemy the Black Tiger, is over there. And we’re gonna get him. I’m going to get him with my sword. I mean, my stick.”

Me: “Okay. Andi, who are you going to be?”

Andi: “I the Lucy.”

(Pause here – Andi thinks Lucy from The Chronicles of Narnia is the girl superhero. So in these scenarios, she is frequently Lucy, or as she says, “The Lucy.”)

Me: “Sounds good. Go get ‘em, guys.”

Andi: “And after he dead, we going to get ice cream.”

The perfect end to any battle.

Joshua and I were watching the football game together when we saw a recruiting commercial for the US military. The video showed a helicopter piloting its way into enemy territory, flying down low, and soldiers jumping out with night vision goggles on. They found their fellow soldiers who had apparently been trapped and got them on board. Then the helicopter flew away.

Joshua let out a deep and long, “Aaaaaaawesome!”

Then we had a little chat:

Me: “You know, Joshua, that’s what Wesley’s daddy does for his job.”

Joshua: “What?”

Me: “He flies helicopters in the army. He’s probably flying one right now.”

Joshua: “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Me: “Nope. You know how sometimes you come to daddy’s office where he works? Well, that helicopter is kind of like Mr. Mark’s office. That’s what he does for his job.”

Long pause here…

Joshua: “Maybe you can do that someday.”

Probably not, Joshua. But I can type 70 words a minute. That’s something, right?

We went to the emergency room last night, maybe for the last time. Joshua got a fever, so off we went. Everyone there was growing snouts and expressed an overwhelming desire for truffles. So we instructed Joshua to not touch anything.

Anything.

So he got checked out; counts were good; we were released about 8:30 to come home.

Joshua was very mad that he didn’t get to sleep in the hospital.

Go figure. Apparently he’s not too worried about the swine flu.

Tomorrow, October 18th, is the 3 year anniversary of Joshua’s diagnosis with acute lymphocytic leukemia. That also means that as of today, he has been undergoing chemotherapy for 2 years, 363 days.

Hard to believe it’s been 3 years. We just wanted to reflect a little with a few pictures, starting just before he was diagnosed, through the early stages of treatment, through hair loss, and finally just a week ago on vacation.

On Monday, Joshua will receive – God willing – his last ever spinal tap. If you’re keeping score, that means after Monday we only have 2 chemo treatments left.

Andi has won my heart. I mean, come on – look at her.

One problem in life right now, though – Andi does not like to be dropped off places. She cries when she goes to Sunday School. She cries when she goes to school. She cries even when she has to go upstairs to the little kids’ room for our community group in our friends’ house. This week at community group, we could hear her wailing upstairs (which is no small feat, considering our community group has 25 kids at it.) And I decided to put my parental foot down.

So I went upstairs and pulled her out of the class. The following is how the conversation went:

ME: Andi, what’s the problem?

ANDI (sniff, sniff): I just want my daddy, cause I love you.

ME: I love you, too. Stop crying.

ANDI: Daddy?

ME: Stop crying. You need to have a happy heart. You are here to play with friends, sing songs, and learn about Jesus.

ANDI (sniff, sniff): Kay…

ME: I’m serious. Find a happy heart, Andi. And if you can find it, after community group we can share a piece of cake.

ANDI (less sniffing): Kay…

ME: Okay. So let’s review. Do you want to have some cake?

ANDI: Yeah…

ME: And what do you need if you want to have the cake?

ANDI: Fork.

I’m done. She had me at fork.

Another post from the baseball world from Joshua. At our last practice, we went for almost 2 hours.

Wow. The last thing of the night was a base running contest. So the coach put all the boys in a line, spreading out the faster and slower ones. Joshua was positioned last. The context was this: he was going to send them running one at a time with a short distance in between. The person who passed the most people on the basepath won a prize. So the boys start one at a time: Go. Go. Go. Finally it’s Joshua’s turn.

Go Joshua Go!

He runs about 20 feet, and then pauses. Instead of continuing to first base, he runs as fast as he can across the field to third base, touches that one and turns for home. Arriving at home plate, he declared that he had passed everyone. Joshua won the prize for being the smartest.

I’ll be honest – Thursday was a tough day. Not only did Joshua have his dose of chemo on Wednesday, but Thursday was the first day of baseball practice. And we found ourselves moving into a new world of sports.

Our neighborhood league evidently has a long and illustrious history of many championships of something or other. To that end, people around here take their baseball pretty seriously. We showed up to practice on the 4- 5- and 6-year-old team finding out that they practice 3 times a week for an hour and a half each time until games start.

Wow.

And Joshua, bless his heart, had kind of a rough time. Not only is a little inexperienced in the baseball realm, it was hot and he had medicine pumping through him. So he struggled some – tried hard, but struggled. And we struggled to watch him struggle.

On the good side, though, it forced us to evaluate exactly what we’re hoping to accomplish on that field. I’m under no illusion that Joshua is going to pitch for the Braves someday. I’d sure take it if that’s the case, but I’m not betting my retirement on it. So in the end, I think the experience freed us to try and help Joshua understand the most important rule of baseball:

“Have fun.”

(Today’s post done by guest blogger, Joshua Kelley, who has elected to express his thoughts in story form)

“Once upon a time, there was a man that liked to go in caves. And then when he went into that cave, he always found precious jewels. Suddenly there was a dinosaur!

The man said, “What are you doing here?”

The dinosaur said, “Well… I want to eat you!”

Then he said, “Let’s have a challenge… fighting!” Then he tried to punch the dinosaur but he was too fast. Then he had an idea. He punched him really hard and he didn’t even know. Then he died.

The end.”

Band-aids. I can’t remember if it was like this when I was a kid, but we go through band-aids by the stinkin’ gross at our house.

Apparently, both our children are under the delusion that a band-aid makes it feel better.

I swear last week Joshua looked like he was being held together with the stupid things.

As I type this, there are 6 band-aids being worn by out 2 children.

I am, as of this moment, instituting a “no blood, no band-aid” policy. Otherwise, I’m going to have to declare bankruptcy.