True Story: I'm a Wussy Mom (The Betta Fish Saga)
True Story: I'm a Wussy Mom.
No, really. I am. I like to think I'm tough-as-nails-take-the-right-
Since, oh, say, early 2009, we've had two Betta fish (separately tanked). One is in Bear's room, and one was in our room. Bear's fish, Fishy (innovative, right?) is now actually Fishy III. But Christmas...my very own Betta is the original.
Okay, *was* the original.
Christmas recently passed on to the other side. Bought the farm. Embarked upon the big sleep. Kicked the bucket. Need I go on?
Late in the night, K. and I had a small ceremony for him. It took place in our bathroom. We said a few words, assured each other he was only a shell and his soul was happily swimming in the eternal ocean, and flushed.
That evening while lying bed, the following conversation transpired:
Me: I don't really want a replacement. That fish tank takes up a lot of room for one fish. (They both live(d) in five gallon fish tanks. Don't even ask.)
K: Me neither. But what are we going to tell Bear?
Me: We'll just be upfront, but in a non-fear-inducing manner. We'll break it gently. Like a "joy in the eternal afterlife" kinda thing.
K: Babe. You know this isn't going to go well.
Me: Well, shouldn't we try it?
K: Yeah, I guess. Maybe it won't be so bad.
We then decided to take the even less abrasive route and move Christmas' old tank into our family room, and maybe get a goldfish or three. So last night, my mom came over to stay with the sleeping girls, and 7:15 PM found us en route to Petsmart. Conversation on the way to Petsmart:
Me: Hey, Bear. Wanna know why we're going to Petsmart?
Bear: Yeah! Why *are* we going to Petsmart?
Me: We're going to get some goldfish! And new rocks, new plants, new food...
Bear: Really?! Goldfish! YAY! (pause) Are we getting a new tank, too?
Me: Well...that's the thing. No, baby. We're not. We're going to use Christmas' old tank.
Bear: Where's Christmas?
Me: Well...Christmas went to heaven. We might not be able to see him, but he's always in our hearts.
Bear: Wait, we won't see him ever again?
Me: Well, no. But we always have good memories of him, right?
Bear: But I want Christmas. I miss him so much.
Me: ...
Bear: Oh, that poor, poor fish. (growing louder in volume and intensity) I just want Christmas back! He has to come back!
Me: (glancing at K who looks as aghast as I feel, even though we're both trying to maintain some sense of composure)
Bear: He needs to come back, momma! I looooove him so much!
Me: (falling off the wagon) You know? I was wrong. He IS back. Silly me! He was just at the vet. He's already home. I forgot.
Bear: (not caring that I resurrected a fish from the dead) Oh, really?! That's great news! Yay! And now we get goldfish, too!
Me: Umm...yes, yes we do. We just need to get Christmas a smaller tank so the goldfish have a place to live, okay?
Bear: Okay.
Yes, internet land, I am a wuss. I raised Christmas from the dead.
K. and I stifled laughter the rest of the ride, even though it was a cross between hilarity and simple relief. At Petsmart, we purchased new rocks for Fishy, a new mini bowl (with a lid so Christmas II doesn't become a cat's meal), new rocks for the goldfish, new plants for the goldfish, new tank ornaments (a "nemo" for Fishy, a skull for Christmas), fish food, water conditioner, a new net (ours went missing), filters (we were out), and a lightbulb (replacement). Next up? The saga of the goldfish...
Oh, you want to hear about that, too? How much time do you have?
So. The goldfish.
Yeah.
We went for a few goldfish for a five gallon tank. I found the "feeder " fish (read as: the ones you win at carnivals that either live into their eighties or die within two hours of purchasing all the necessary, life-sustaining supplies), and plowed right past them. I stopped in front of a tank with four goldfish, each to the tune of $1.99. They looked...reasonably robust. Perfect for a five gallon tank, even. Executive decision made by the wife (me): we would take all four. K. ordered 'em up (ha! get it! it's a fish joke!) and then made a fatal error: he asked the employee if five would fit in a five gallon tank. He then looked at us as if we had eleven heads. Apiece. No way, he said. Two, tops.
Okay, we'll get two. So he bagged the two and we walked away. I had a face on. I could feel it, K. could sense it.
In line, the conversation went like this:
Me: What does he mean a five gallon tank can't fit four fish?! Phhhpt!
K: Well, they will get a bit bigger.
Me: These two won't even last the night. I know it. And now I'm bothered.
K: By what?
Me: Oh...I don't know. We, you know, left two. Half of them. Don't you feel bad?
K: No.
Me: Well...I think you should get the other two when you sneak back in to buy the new Christmas.
K: ...
Me: I mean, they won't all live anyway, right? And then we can distract Bear by the others in the tank. He won't even notice that one's missing on top of the entertainment center. I can say he's behind the plant.
K: Well...okay.
Me: Thanks, babe. You know how I get.
K: Oh, I know.
So we paid for our fish supplies ($96.40! Are you serious?!) and packed into the car. K. faked a forgotten can of cat food and went back in to purchase Christmas II (and the two additional goldfish) as I sat with Bear. A few minutes later (and an additional $6.52), K. emerged with the "cat food" (read as: a well-concealed Christmas II) and another bag of goldfish. Bear was delighted at the new additions and promptly named them The Cat in the Hat, Thing 1, Thing 2, and Carlos K. Krinklebein .
And strangely enough, they all have some feature that sets them each apart. Who knew?
We arrived home and I bolted in with five fish, pounding on the front door with my foot. My mom opened the door and I bolted past her, (gently) chucking Christmas: The Sequel into a kitchen cabinet until I could distract Bear long enough to set up Part Deux in his new digs.
So now...instead of two fish, we have six. As of right now, all are alive in their clean tanks. I'm certain the goldfish are going to morph into these monstrosities at eight inches a pop, requiring a new tank of epic proportions. Like...world's biggest goldfish style. And they'll probably all live a decade. But just over a hundred bucks and a few new pets and there you have it: I secured my place in mommy wussdom but preserved my son's innocence for just a bit longer.
It all evens out, right?
Right.
<3
PS - Also, if it's not already immediately apparent, I married an absolute saint.
xo
No, really. I am. I like to think I'm tough-as-nails-take-the-right-
Since, oh, say, early 2009, we've had two Betta fish (separately tanked). One is in Bear's room, and one was in our room. Bear's fish, Fishy (innovative, right?) is now actually Fishy III. But Christmas...my very own Betta is the original.
Okay, *was* the original.
Christmas recently passed on to the other side. Bought the farm. Embarked upon the big sleep. Kicked the bucket. Need I go on?
Late in the night, K. and I had a small ceremony for him. It took place in our bathroom. We said a few words, assured each other he was only a shell and his soul was happily swimming in the eternal ocean, and flushed.
That evening while lying bed, the following conversation transpired:
Me: I don't really want a replacement. That fish tank takes up a lot of room for one fish. (They both live(d) in five gallon fish tanks. Don't even ask.)
K: Me neither. But what are we going to tell Bear?
Me: We'll just be upfront, but in a non-fear-inducing manner. We'll break it gently. Like a "joy in the eternal afterlife" kinda thing.
K: Babe. You know this isn't going to go well.
Me: Well, shouldn't we try it?
K: Yeah, I guess. Maybe it won't be so bad.
We then decided to take the even less abrasive route and move Christmas' old tank into our family room, and maybe get a goldfish or three. So last night, my mom came over to stay with the sleeping girls, and 7:15 PM found us en route to Petsmart. Conversation on the way to Petsmart:
Me: Hey, Bear. Wanna know why we're going to Petsmart?
Bear: Yeah! Why *are* we going to Petsmart?
Me: We're going to get some goldfish! And new rocks, new plants, new food...
Bear: Really?! Goldfish! YAY! (pause) Are we getting a new tank, too?
Me: Well...that's the thing. No, baby. We're not. We're going to use Christmas' old tank.
Bear: Where's Christmas?
Me: Well...Christmas went to heaven. We might not be able to see him, but he's always in our hearts.
Bear: Wait, we won't see him ever again?
Me: Well, no. But we always have good memories of him, right?
Bear: But I want Christmas. I miss him so much.
Me: ...
Bear: Oh, that poor, poor fish. (growing louder in volume and intensity) I just want Christmas back! He has to come back!
Me: (glancing at K who looks as aghast as I feel, even though we're both trying to maintain some sense of composure)
Bear: He needs to come back, momma! I looooove him so much!
Me: (falling off the wagon) You know? I was wrong. He IS back. Silly me! He was just at the vet. He's already home. I forgot.
Bear: (not caring that I resurrected a fish from the dead) Oh, really?! That's great news! Yay! And now we get goldfish, too!
Me: Umm...yes, yes we do. We just need to get Christmas a smaller tank so the goldfish have a place to live, okay?
Bear: Okay.
Yes, internet land, I am a wuss. I raised Christmas from the dead.
K. and I stifled laughter the rest of the ride, even though it was a cross between hilarity and simple relief. At Petsmart, we purchased new rocks for Fishy, a new mini bowl (with a lid so Christmas II doesn't become a cat's meal), new rocks for the goldfish, new plants for the goldfish, new tank ornaments (a "nemo" for Fishy, a skull for Christmas), fish food, water conditioner, a new net (ours went missing), filters (we were out), and a lightbulb (replacement). Next up? The saga of the goldfish...
Oh, you want to hear about that, too? How much time do you have?
So. The goldfish.
Yeah.
We went for a few goldfish for a five gallon tank. I found the "feeder " fish (read as: the ones you win at carnivals that either live into their eighties or die within two hours of purchasing all the necessary, life-sustaining supplies), and plowed right past them. I stopped in front of a tank with four goldfish, each to the tune of $1.99. They looked...reasonably robust. Perfect for a five gallon tank, even. Executive decision made by the wife (me): we would take all four. K. ordered 'em up (ha! get it! it's a fish joke!) and then made a fatal error: he asked the employee if five would fit in a five gallon tank. He then looked at us as if we had eleven heads. Apiece. No way, he said. Two, tops.
Okay, we'll get two. So he bagged the two and we walked away. I had a face on. I could feel it, K. could sense it.
In line, the conversation went like this:
Me: What does he mean a five gallon tank can't fit four fish?! Phhhpt!
K: Well, they will get a bit bigger.
Me: These two won't even last the night. I know it. And now I'm bothered.
K: By what?
Me: Oh...I don't know. We, you know, left two. Half of them. Don't you feel bad?
K: No.
Me: Well...I think you should get the other two when you sneak back in to buy the new Christmas.
K: ...
Me: I mean, they won't all live anyway, right? And then we can distract Bear by the others in the tank. He won't even notice that one's missing on top of the entertainment center. I can say he's behind the plant.
K: Well...okay.
Me: Thanks, babe. You know how I get.
K: Oh, I know.
So we paid for our fish supplies ($96.40! Are you serious?!) and packed into the car. K. faked a forgotten can of cat food and went back in to purchase Christmas II (and the two additional goldfish) as I sat with Bear. A few minutes later (and an additional $6.52), K. emerged with the "cat food" (read as: a well-concealed Christmas II) and another bag of goldfish. Bear was delighted at the new additions and promptly named them The Cat in the Hat, Thing 1, Thing 2, and Carlos K. Krinklebein .
And strangely enough, they all have some feature that sets them each apart. Who knew?
We arrived home and I bolted in with five fish, pounding on the front door with my foot. My mom opened the door and I bolted past her, (gently) chucking Christmas: The Sequel into a kitchen cabinet until I could distract Bear long enough to set up Part Deux in his new digs.
So now...instead of two fish, we have six. As of right now, all are alive in their clean tanks. I'm certain the goldfish are going to morph into these monstrosities at eight inches a pop, requiring a new tank of epic proportions. Like...world's biggest goldfish style. And they'll probably all live a decade. But just over a hundred bucks and a few new pets and there you have it: I secured my place in mommy wussdom but preserved my son's innocence for just a bit longer.
It all evens out, right?
Right.
<3
PS - Also, if it's not already immediately apparent, I married an absolute saint.
xo
Posted by courtney at 8/3/2010 2:20 PM 
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: love christmas II betta fish wussy mom behavior money money money christmas goldfish innocence fishy III bear
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: love christmas II betta fish wussy mom behavior money money money christmas goldfish innocence fishy III bear
just so ya know, babe... those goldfish? yeah. they get big. HUGE. think koi! hahaha!!! we had ONE in a 10-gallon tank and recently purchased a second goldfish. thing is, the first monstrous fish is now incredibly large even for the 10-gallon. (seriously)
it took 1 year for the explosion of growth. and now he's so big that his spine has caused his swim bladder to capture air and unless i HAND FEED this guy green peas, he can't poop out the air easy enough and ends up floating belly-up until he does. (he looks dead!)
he's easily (including his fins) bigger than my palm.
"speck" (named after pee-wee herman's dog in the movie "pee-wee's big adventure")
we have another fancy goldfish now, all gold with a white face. we've named it kabuki.
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