Fish Food

My kids have been bugging me fuh-evuh about getting a pet. I'm not really pet-friendly, so much poo and hair and cleaning and weird smells and food and sometimes they get expensive...I mean...I own a boy...is that not "pet" enough? Anyhow, I was cleaning the garage the other day and came across my Big Girl's old fishtank. Um...hello...I am so totally about to become Mother of the Year. Excuse me while I squint...I'm blinded by the lightbulb above my noggin. I have the tank, here are the rocks, I have the filter, and Sweet Lord in heaven I just found some filter cartridges! All I need to add is fish (and I'm thinking "of the Feeder variety") so what I am looking at? Ten cents a piece? Five fish (one representative for each family member). Total investment: $.15. Okay and a couple of bucks for fish food. Total investment for complete and utter adoration from my children: $2.50. I am a genius.

I call in The Boy and The Princess, "Hey guys....guess what? What do you think about (stretch out the anticipation).....going to the store (wait for it...wait for it)....and buying.... (smile and nod and wait for their little hearts to burst forth with happiness) some PET FISH! At this point, they completely lose their sh-tuff, jumping up and down, screaming, hugging each other, hugging me...utter delirium.

I show them the tank in the garage and they follow me into the kitchen to clean it out. They marvel at the little mermaid and the ceramic treasure chest and delight when I explain to them about the bubble wand and how the pump pushes the air...wait, where's the pump? Pump? Ugh...pump. Okay...so what's that gonna be a few more bucks? Mother of the Year status: $5.50? Still a good deal.

We get the tank set up, bubble wand on the counter waiting for said pump, and we pack up to go to the store, the thrill of pending pet ownership still buzzing in their little brains.

We drive to the store, I won't name it...let's call it PetStupid...to pick out our new found friends. I take the kids by the hand and we head toward to fish department. I, of course, head straight for the Feeder Fish goldfish tank because I am well aware that, as you go down the line, the fish get more fabulous and more expensive. Hmm...Feeder Fish are $.13 apiece, not $.10. Okay: $5.65. Still worth it. A sales associate, a lovely young girl, comes over as asks if we need assistance. "Yes, ma'am," I say. "We are getting pet fish!" squeals The Boy. "Yeah, fishes!" The Princess blurts.

"Aw, that's so sweet. How many would you like?" ask the associate.

"Five," I answer.

"Wow, okay, five? How big is your tank?" Her brows furrow with concern.

"Five gallons."

"Oh...see...I'm thinking you probably don't want to get more than two for a tank that size." (Okay...do you see where this is going?)

"I'm sorry?" I question.

"Yeah....see (and she says "see" for a really long time) they are going to get bigger and then they will outgrow the tank and that will be a problem (pronounced "praaaaahbleeeeem")."

"Okay....wait a minute...so what you (darling girl) are telling me is that you think (which I didn't ask you to do...catch fish...don't think) that these fish will suffer a crueler fate in a fish tank at my house with approximately one gallon each of free roaming fun through a squiggling wall of bubbles and fairly hot mermaid chick as their neighbor than what have in store for them if they stay here? Seriously, you're kidding right? I mean, am I crazy, you've got, like, a thousand of them in a 20 gallon tank, banging into each other, just waiting for sweet freedom, only to find out that, as soon as they get their new digs, they're gonna be big fish food?" (*Sigh*...and then I got the giggles. I was trying not to laugh AT her...but I was totalling laughing AT her. I mean, really, how stupid IS that? THEY ARE FEEDER FISH!)

Anyhow, she conceded, picked out five fish (yes...she PICKED out five fish. We stood there, like, five minutes watching her chase SPECIFIC fish around the tank! I was, like, "Honey, just dip the net and dump five in the bag already!) Then she explained, "I'm picking out the smallest ones so they'll last longer." Am I crazy, or this chick really this concerned about the living conditions of these goldfish? She actually looked a little forlorn as she handed over the plastic bag o'fish for me to take home. Gotta give it to those folks at PetStupid...they REALLY do love pets. I should have gotten her number so I could call later and let her know they made it home safe and sound.

Anyway, I'm thinking I won't be finding out if she was right or I was about them outgrowing their home. I've got a feeling these fish are gonna be short-timers. About ten minutes after I put them in their new abode, I walked out of the room while the little kid's were still marveling at them, only to return a few minutes later to find a whole Cheeze Doodle floating in the top of the tank.

Dear Sarah

Dear Sarah,

I was in the shower just now and started thinking about your wedding cake cupcakes and how I said "invite me to the frosting party" instead of doing them all myself because I hate cupcakes. I don't know why I thought about them in the shower. Maybe it was the shave gel I was using. It smelled really sweet and then puffed up into a white frosting-looking blob. I think it was called Alluring Avacado...which made me think of your lemon cupcakes with green-tea frosting deal. Huh...that's really weird that they would use a food for shave gel....because nothing says "yuck" like food and hair. Oh, wait a minute...maybe they were appealing to the avacado as more "spa treatment" and less "ingredient". Hmmmm....wait...where were we? Holy, tangent. Oh....cupcakes, right.

So, I'm thinking that if you get the girls together for a "frosting party" like we talked about, there is going to be, at some point, alcohol involved. Again, let's face it, nothing says "cake" like a shot of Citron. Wait...that might just be me. Tangent! Anyhoo, as the night goes on those little cupcakes of your are probably going to start lookin' a hot mess! I'm sending you this pic of a cake I made for a little girl that wanted "a blue cake with a purple flower on it". I don't know what your colors are, but I can just imagine two or three rows of white or palest yellow petals (I'm trying for pale-est, but "palest" doesn't look right...hmm. Isn't it funny how sometimes when you spell out a word and it doesn't look right? I actually spellchecked "of" one time. I typed the "o" and the "f", but then I kept thinking there MUST be a "v". It just looked off to me...oh, now that's funny...'cause I said "off" and "of" is just one letter away from...Good God from Greensboro that pot of coffee is doing me NO favors this morning!) with a tiny, palest...um, very pale...chartreuse center. You could even do a few different color cominations...whatev. So, call me soon and let me know if you're still interested in hiring out the cupcakes. If you need me to do them, I'm in! Gonna go to the kitchen now. All this talk has me hungry for avacados and cake...and Citron. I know, I know...it's only 9:00 am, but it's cool, my kid doesn't have school today. Wait...it might only be 8:00 am. I'm not sure if I changed this clock forward yet. Like it matters.

Ah...The Power of The Easy Listening Rock Station

Isn't it funny how, as an adult, you hear songs from your youth and you finally understand what the singer is singing? Lo, these many years I have thought that Kenny Roger's wife left him with "four hundred children and a crop in the field". I remember as a child thinking, "Run, Lucille, run!" I've also come to realize that Steve Miller wasn't singing "Big Ol' Jed had a light on" and nobody was EVER "blinded by the light...wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night."

City Girls Just Seem To Find Out Early...

A friend of mine was just posting the lyrics to "Your Lyin' Eyes" by the Eagles on her Facebook page...and it got me to thinking. You know, that whole "City girls just seem to find out early, how to open doors with just a smile" line used to give me a complex. What was I, about 7 when that song came out? Well, and I swear to God I did this, I used to sit on the bed and smile at my doorknob to see if I could make it open. And then I remember being REALLY upset that we lived in the country...because I couldn't do it and the CITY girls were learning how! Frickin' city girls...they get ALL the advantages! "Maybe I'm just not pretty enough" I remember saying to myself...at age 7...already with a complex...about not being pretty enough...nor telekinetic. Frickin' Eagles! And these guys had the balls to charge $150+ per ticket a few years ago. Sh*t, I paid more than that in therapy! I AM PRETTY ENOUGH GLEN FRYE AND DON HENLEY! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU JACKHOLES? I AM PRETTY ENOUGH!

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Toddler Scorned

It's a gorgeous, Carolina blue-sky day and I'm finally getting around to spring cleaning because, you know, it's October. I was cleaning windows on the front porch while The Boy and The Princess were riding bikes. She kept getting mad because he kept winning the race up the driveway. (It's only a race if he's in front already or it has been predetermined that he shall be the victor. Every time they get to the end of the driveway, he turns quick and starts heading back toward the house screaming, "I win! I win!" This reduces The Princess to a screaming puddle of girl standing in the middle of the driveway beside the crumpled bike that she has slammed to the ground.)

She ran up the steps, stepped inside the front door and yelled, "Mom...and you help me wock dis door!"
"Why Princess?
"'Cause I want wock Brother out!"
"Princess, you can't lock your brother out."
"FINE! Den I go up my woom!"
"Baby, that's not a nice thing to do."
"FINE! Den I hate you!" Stomp, stomp, ...stomp, stomp, ...stomp, stomp. (Stomping up the stairs is a painfully long process when you're three and you have to land both feet on every step before you go up to the next one. By the time she gets about half way up, you're over the shock of the stubborn, screaming toddler and you have to turn away to not laugh at her.)
"Baby Girl! That is a terrible thing to say!"
Stomp, stomp...stomp, stomp...SLAM!
O......M......G.
Yeah, she's cute now. But one day this is going to be the one that shows up with the long-haired boyfriend and takes the hubby and I out with a .38 for insurance money. Remember that I said this.

I'm Gonna Miss Stupid...

"Stupid is as stupid does." - Forrest Gump

stu-pid adj. 1. In a stupor; stupefied. 2. Slow to apprehend; dull; obtuse. 3. Showing a lack of sense or intelligence. 4. Uninteresting; trite or dull. -n Informal. A stupid person. - The American Heritage Dictionary

When exactly did "stupid" become the latest in a long list of words we can no longer use? Certainly, some words should have gone away long before they did...the "n-word", "colored", "retarded"(oh, I miss "retarded"), "faggot", etc....but "stupid"? What was the cataclysmic event that happened to cause all the hatred toward "stupid"? These other words indeed are derogatory toward certain groups of people that refer to something that they can't change about themselves...color, sexual orientation, mental handicaps....but, really..."stupid'? Honey...that's a whole other group of people altogether!

If nothing happens because of stupidity then we have to find a "real reason" behind doing stupid things. Everything has to have a meaning, an excuse, a cause and effect... I hate to break it to you....but sometimes "stupid" IS the reason.

"Johnny broke his arm because he tried to skateboard off the roof into the swimming pool."
"Why in the world would he do a thing like that?"
"Because....he's stu-....wait....because he was acting out against tyranny and oppression, the stress of eighth grade math, the-the-the destruction of the rain forests, arctic ice caps are melting, um...Daddy doesn't hug him enough, uh.....uh....and did you know that jellyfish are taking over the oceans?!!!"

Exhausting. Geez, wouldn't it be easier to just go straight to "stupid"?

And in case you haven't seen this, nothing gets a Mom up in arms like one kid calling another "stupid". Recently I witnessed the following:

"Dude...that was so stupid!"
"Johnny...you know we don't use THAT word in OUR house!"
"But, Mom...."
"Absolutely NOT, Johnny........"

Okay, now wait a minute. Wasn't that same little brat just screaming at his mom to buy him a "new frickin' Nintendo" five minutes ago? "Frickin'"....and "stupid" was the thing that put her over the edge.

Isn't it so funny that we get all caught up in the new Mom rules of the day that we forget common sense. So busy trying to measure up the new PC standards that we can't even see the stupid forest for the stupid trees?

"Stupid" is a great word. It's useful, succinct, and, usually, pretty accurate. I'm holding on to you "stupid"! I'll fight the "stupid" fight!!!

Not Quite The Circle of Life

I was sitting at breakfast with The Boy this morning, enjoying a little "boy & Mommy time", which we seldom get to have. As we were enjoying our grilled cheeses, he said to me, "Mom, and you know what I dreamed 'bout this night?"

"What, little buddy?" (Oh, he's sharing a little picture into his soul...what a moment! The house is quiet and it's just my baby boy and me. Oh...this is sooo "Hallmarky".)

"Well, you 'member we watched that show the other (pronounced "udder") day and there was that jaguar chasing that baby reindeer (a baby antelope, but at my house anything with four legs and the possibility of having horns is called a reindeer)?"

"Yeah, little man, I remember that."

"Well, I dreamed last night that I was standing in front and I caught that little baby reindeer." (Ahhh, a hero in the making! What a kind, loving heart he has already. Taking on a jaguar! He's going to be such a lovely grown man...considerate, gentle, with a touch of heroic when necessary. I'm quite amazed at myself for molding this little creature into the kind of man he'll become. I wasn't raised around boys so I was nervous I wouldn't be able to pull it off, ya know? I chuckle and shake my head at doubting myself. I'm actually getting a little teary just thinking about it. I've got to set this grilled cheese down so that when he finishes this tale I can scoop him up and cover him with kisses. What an angel! A blond haired, blue-eyed angel!)

"Son, you caught that little baby reindeer? I'm so proud of you! You rescued that poor, tiny thing and saved it from that big, bad jaguar?"

"No, Mom. I let him eat it."