A few days ago, my husband, the kids and I were watching an MSNBC show called, “My Kid Would Never Do That.” The show has hidden cameras and tempts kids with things like a stranger who pulls up in an ice cream truck and offers them a Drumstick and a tour of the ice cream truck. I’m 40 and I would probably still fall for that.

The episode we were watching was focused on peer pressure and cheating on a test. There was a group of kids, with two actors planted among them, who kept urging the non-actors to look up answers on smartphones or, conveniently, on the answer sheet which was attached to the test. I’m 40 and I would probably…oh, you get the picture.

As any parents would, we used this as an opportunity to discuss honesty with our kids. I asked my nine year old what he would do in the same situation. He said, “I would look around for cameras and if I saw them, then I wouldn’t cheat.”

I appreciated his honesty, but this wasn’t the answer I was going for.

We spent some time discussing right and wrong and why it’s important to never lie. I explained that once someone lies to you, you have a hard time ever trusting them again.

Apparently, he got it.

This morning he was singing to me. That’s right, he occasionally breaks into song. Sometimes it’s Broadway, sometimes it’s Busta Rhymes. Same difference. So, this morning he was singing, “You are the most beautiful mom! Yes, you are the most beautiful mom!”

Then he suddenly stopped and said, “Oh, wait” and when he continued serenading me, he had new lyrics.

As he held his hands against his heart to show me that he meant it sincerely, he said, “I should have sang, you are the best mom! Yes, you are the best mom.”

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If you read my last post, you know that Thursday was a really sad day for us. So was Friday, and Saturday, and Sunday. My son actually said, “Our house doesn’t even feel like a home anymore.” We’re getting there though. We have cried a little less each day.

In addition to sadness, there have been glimmers of good. It started when we took a walk just a couple of hours after we put Blue down. I took this photo and noted that it had been gray and cloudy all day until we decided to take a walk to Blue’s favorite pond.

The next day, I was looking at the picture again, when I suddenly saw Blue in the clouds.

See her? With her tennis ball and shark fin angel wing? My friend, Melisa, who once wrote a book for children about the loss of a pet, told me that I would start seeing signs everywhere.

On Friday, my daughter’s teacher was telling a story about a book she had just read. She was moved to tears by the death of the main character’s 14 year old dog.

That same evening, my husband was watching a fishing show. He fishes, but he never watches fishing shows. Well, that’s not true, we both watch Deadliest Catch, but not really for the fishing; more for the train wreck of chain-smoking, crab-boat crews. Anyway, he was watching this fishing show that kept making reference to catching something called a “Blue Dog.”

And, in church yesterday, the homily was about being reunited with those you love; all of us restored, whole and without pain.

Thank you, Blue. I hope you keep sending us messages.

Also, if you could keep those messages off of the bottom of my shoe, I would be really grateful.

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So it has come to this.

That is my microwave with a rock glued to it.

Last week the door wouldn’t open and we were all, “What are we going to do with all of these bags of popcorn if we can’t open the microwave door?” We started using a screwdriver to pry the door open, but a screwdriver on your kitchen counter is not all that aesthetically appealing; unless, of course, it’s made of vodka and orange juice.

I thought maybe it was time to start scouring Craigslist or looking at scratch-and-dents at the local Sears outlet (because that’s how I roll), but my husband had other ideas. He went all Harry Home-Repairman on me and took it upon himself to…well…glue a rock to the door. When you hit the DOOR OPEN button and pull on the rock, I must admit, the door opens pretty well.

In his defense, he thought the rock would look nice. And, I happen to think the glue that was left to drip down adds a nice touch.

But, truth be told, I keep thinking about how I could hide a screwdriver when company comes over.

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My oldest sister has always had an incredible knack for decorating. She lives a few hours away and one time when I was staying with her, I actually got out of bed extra early just so I could surround myself with her pretty stuff. True story.

I visited her home this past weekend and, though I wasn’t there for a happy occasion (same city, different sister), I had that same urge. This time, I actually fought the desire to fill up my car with as much as I could grab. True story.

Her living room. Swoon.

See that white sofa? SHE HAS A DOG. A big one, who runs freely in the rolling fields surrounding her house. First born overachiever!

This is her mud room. What you can’t see is the gorgeous, heavy, antique door that marks the entrance. What you can see? That she has forced bulbs in February and I can’t grow plants in June when I buy them from the nursery already in bloom.

Doesn’t everyone have leaded glass over their kitchen sink? Oh, look! More bulbs!

A nook for when one of her guests picks up the guitar and plays. True story. It happens every time I’m there. Also, look at her phone! Who has a cute phone? Oh yes, that’s right…she does.

All I know is that I’m 40 years old and I still want to be her when I grow up.

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