Pages

Thursday, June 5, 2014

*sigh*

An email was sent out to the parents in Anna’s class last week asking if anyone would like to take home the class fish. Being that I’m a masochist, I promptly replied “Sure! We’ll take your fish! Anna has been wanting one!” The teacher replied that another mom already said she’d take them but she’d send her an email asking if it would be okay if we took one. I didn’t check my email to respond quickly enough to tell her “no that was okay. She could have both.” When I next checked my email, my fish was on hold and waiting to come home with us.

The next day, I got the bowl all ready for “her” (Anna wanted the girl fish…please don’t make me go into that) so that when we got her home, no fuss-no muss, she’d slip right in and live happily ever after.

You’ll not be surprised to know…that’s not at all how it happened…

Friday afternoon, we get the fish home and I immediately see a very big (or very small depending on how you look at it) problem. I’m going to put this fish into a ½ gallon bowl.
It just came out of a 22 gallon tank. Hmmm. I apologized to “Elsa” and added her to the bowl. I’m absolutely positive she glared at me as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”
No, Elsa, I’m not kidding you. This is where you are to live out the rest of your day. (Yes, day.)

Elsa went into a decline and I was feeling horrible. Anna wasn’t so impressed, either. In addition to much smaller living quarters Elsa also had the challenge of getting used to “new” water. She had been a class pet since last September and was used to her own school water. What a princess! I had no idea goldfish were so high maintenance! I thought you could put them in a bowl and go about your day! Ha! Not in this house!!

That evening, I called my friend and asked if she’d be willing to take Elsa and put her in her fish tank. She wasn’t able to add any more fish to her tank, however, she said we could try her in their koi pond! Brilliant!
Alas, when I woke up the next morning, Elsa was no longer with us. L

I gave Elsa *ahem* a proper burial and when Anna woke up I gently explained to her what had happened. She was sad for a minute and then immediately brightened! “Can we go get a new fish???” Since I thought it unfair that her “first pet” lasted only 15 hours, I agreed to buy her a Beta fish because those last an obnoxiously long time under our care.

The pet store had a hundred betas in their little containers. Red ones, blue ones, flowy ones, spindly ones, and then we saw a beautiful blonde one with billowy fins that looked, I swear, like its name should be Rapunzel. Anna’s eyes got all big and she screamed “I want that one!!!!!” I told her that I wanted that one, too! “She” was really cool!...but not that cool.
$20.00???  Say what?
I told Anna to try again. She was a little disappointed until we went around the corner and saw (doot do da loooooo!!!!) beta babies!!!! Super cutie cute, impossibly tiny, weensie baby betas. I asked the fish guy how much they were.
“$1.99.”
Um, SOLD!
Anna trotted happily to the counter and I happily doled out my $1.99 (plus a few extra dollars for the *micro* food) and we headed home with her (my) new fish. We slipped her into the bowl (which had been cleaned and filled with newly conditioned water (left over from our previous betas)) and she moved right in where she has been living very comfortably for the past 5 and a half days.
 


Anna promised (where have I heard this before?...It sounds so familiar) to feed it every day and clean it “Not like Nathan didn’t do, mom.” But I have to hand it to her, she’s reminded me every day, twice a day to help her feed little “Belle.” We’ll see how long this care and concern lasts but, for now, I’ll take it.


Monday, June 2, 2014

Tedward "Teddy" VanDyken

So, this hamster.
Nathan wanted a hamster so badly. We started discussing it and went to the library (I like the library for old-school research instead of the web.) After about a month of talking about it, we decided to get him one for his 10th birthday. I was more sold than my husband. His arguments were: a) they smell b) they’re up at night so the wheel would drive us all crazy and c) see “b.” But I convinced (lied to) him that the wheels they make now are quiet and assured him that we wouldn’t hear it. Wanting to make his boy happy, Matt went along with the idea. So, after school on his birthday, Nathan and I set out for the pet store to choose the hamster that he promised to love honor and cherish until next Thursday when the job would fall squarely into my lap. "Teddy" (my new hamster) bit Nathan, drew blood, and that was that. But we were $100 into this thing by now so, doggone it, we were going to push through until Nathan and Teddy were compatible roommates again. I explained (since I had bonded and fallen in love with this little dude) that you cannot simply grab a hamster and pick it up like a baseball, you have to feed it by hand to establish trust and then slowly let him get used to you, “Like how I did when I met your father.” Matt didn’t think that was funny. Huh.
I was, however, *not* going to clean the cage. This was, in fact, Nathan’s hamster and he promised to do that job. I told him I’d help him the first few times until he was comfortable doing it himself. Did I mention I am a loony tunes control freak? I didn’t? Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a looney tunes control freak and once I saw how my son “cleaned” the cage I spazzed out and declared that it was “just quicker and easier if I did it” and now the transition was complete and my hamster lives in my son’s room where he talks to him and drops crackers in there every few days while I talk to, pet, clean, and manage his little hamster diet daily all because “it’s easier if I do it.”

*Don’t write me letters about how I’m not doing my kids any favors. I’m already aware of this.

Fast forward about 6 months. When I get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night I usually make my rounds and make sure all is well. I checked on my daughter and re-covered her and then went into Nathan’s room and did the same for him. I looked in Teddy’s cage. Teddy is nocturnal so he’s usually swinging from the bars, running on his “quiet” wheel, or just enjoying hamster nightlife.
I didn’t see Teddy.
I looked more closely, trying to make my eyes focus and adjust to the darkness. In an instant, panic. Teddy had popped the top open on his little “loft” and he wasn’t in his cage. I grabbed the little flashlight my son has next to his bed and frantically shined it all over the room. Nothing. I went in to wake up my husband.

“Matt,” I whisper. “Teddy’s out of his cage.”
(Grumbly sleepy sounds.)
“Matt! Teddy’s not in his cage. Help me.”
“K” (snoring.)
Seriously. “MATT! Get up! Teddy’s out!”
“$%^&*!!”
“I know. So, help me.”


Turning on our bedroom light (so he wouldn’t step on Teddy) Matt looked around our room because I never saw him in Nathan’s. I went into the kitchen to grab the box of Honey Nut Cheerios (Teddy’s favorite. I’m so embarrassed right now. Please don’t judge.) As I opened the pantry I hear, “There you are you little @#$%^! Becki, I found him!” I come back to the room to find Matt reaching under our bed trying to grab the hamster. I throw some Cheerios under the bed and went to get the hamster ball so he wouldn’t bite in case he was scared. I threw some Cheerios in there, too, to coax him out. While Matt is swearing at the hamster, I’m laughing (because this is a completely inappropriate time to break out into laughter and that’s what I do) and trying to figure out how he got around our 80lb Labrador. Did he crawl over him? Matt, finally contains Teddy and we get him back into his cage and duct tape the loft closed. We both climb back into bed, with me still giggling and Matt contemplating using duct tape on me, and as I finally get myself under control and am about to fall asleep I hear my husband next to me mumble, “@#$%^ hamster.”

This just proves that we parents will do just about anything for our kids. Even if they have absolutely no idea that it ever even happened.

We’ve all grown to love Teddy very dearly. He’s lived in our home for just over a year now and he’s adorable. Especially with the 14 rolls of duct tape all over his cage. You see, we’ve discovered that Teddy is a bit of an escape artist. He’s either trying desperately to get away from us or he just likes to tinker with things. He’s unscrewed his little “plug” on the side of his cage and popped his little head out. Luckily, I caught him doing it because of the racket he was making. This, fortunately, was during the day. This activity also led to his second strip of duct tape. And now, even though it’s hooked on so he can’t squeeze through, he likes to climb the side of his wire cage and try to mash himself between the ceiling and the “wall.” This, unfortunately, was during the evening which resulted in an overabundance of duct tape because I was only half-awake and not in the mood for shenanigans.
(I removed some of the tape the next morning.)



The average hamster lives three years.


I’m sure there are a multitude of lessons to be learned from my experience.

But I choose denial and subjugation. Okay, maybe that’s going a little far but I’m sure I know what I’m getting myself into when I submit to taking on these critters. I remember my mom doing it for me (My guinea pig, “Elvis.” My kitten, “Blaze.”) and I’m quite sure my grandma did the same thing for my mom (I recall a hand-me-down bird story.) The bottom line is that these animals somehow find their way into our homes and because we love our kids and we’re big, fat softies for the long, fluttering eyelashes they bat at us, this cycle will most likely continue on through to my children’s children's children. Our kiddos are only young once and someday (at least I hope) they’ll grow out of this phase of their lives (just like we did) and move onto far more exciting adventures.
Until then, I’ll feed the hamster.