Fish Stink

Okay, so this whole story is ridiculous.  But at this point, I've got to tell it.

So, here I go... Two weeks ago I was at Walmart with my two year old, Jaxon and I told him that if he was really good I'd take him to look at the fish when we were done.  Boy...had I only known what I was in for.  It's times like these that you need to have someone very close to you beat you over the head with a baseball bat several times yelling, "DON'T DO IT!  DON'T DO IT!!"

So, as I so innocently showed him the beautiful male Beta's (A.K.A. "Chinese Fighting Fish"), he started shouting, "NEMO MOMMY!  NEMO!  MOMMY, NEEEEMO!!"  As a mother, my first thought was, 'oh, how sweet, he remembers Nemo's name from the movie!  My boy is so smart.'  Then, instead of a baseball bat I was was hit over the head with a ball full of guilt.  Big, fat, terrible guilt.  The kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach because you know what you're about to do is going to be really, really bad.  So, 

I empathetically watched my sweet little boy point to each and every little tupperware container on the shelf saying, "Nemo" as he looked closely into each little Beta's face...yes, they have faces...evil little faces that say to you, "Just buy me Mom, come on, you know he'll love me and I'll be sooo easy to take care of.  Besides, this little bowl is so small and I really need a good home with a bigger bowl.  Just do it Mom.  Your baby will be so excited."  I swear...if you ever look into one of those stupid little Beta's faces...just look away.  Look away!

So I did.  I looked away, clear to the other side of the store.  There was no way I was going to let some stinking little fish tell ME what to do.  I'm my OWN boss.  

So, as I checked myself out at the 'Self Check Out' aisle in the front of the store, I placed Nemo in the bag with his stinking bowl, and his stinking food and his stinking net and his stinking rocks.  By the way, I know what you're thinking...I caved.  No, for the record, I did NOT cave.  The decision to buy the fish was made solely of my own accord.  I decided all by myself that the sale on fish that day was extremely good and that I'd be a fool not to take advantage of the $11.00 "ready-to-go" fish tank.  I also concluded that a fish would be a perfect pet for a two-year-old.  He can look but not touch, it's educational...I'm sure (not exactly in which sense, but I'm sure there's something on the internet about it), and there's no time or mess involved.  Simple!!  What a great idea I had!  I'd buy my son a fish.

So, all was well on the home front as I followed the directions and set up the tank; placed the fish in the bowl and watched.  That's right, I watched, because that's what you do with a fish, right?  Nothing else, it's simple!  You just watch!  They swim around, you sprinkle some flaky stuff on the top and wah-lah!  Pet in a jar!  Cheap food, no need for a baby-sitter, no messy clean-up... everyone wins.   

Okay, so I promise, this is where the story starts to take a turn.

Upon return from school, my oldest children, Truman and Grace pronounced exuberantly their excitement at bringing a fish into our family.  Nemo.  Our first fish.  They told me how great it was and that Jaxon was so lucky.  Nemo was a beautiful fish, bright blue with flowing fins and arms.  But wait.  Why didn't they get a fish?  They've been asking for a fish for years!  Why did Jaxon, the baby, get a fish and THEY didn't get a fish.  It doesn't make sense, they're older, more responsible, capable...and all of that hoo-ha.

Once again, the ball of guilt came crashing down from the sky like a 50 pound ton of bricks.  Wait, if it's 50 pounds, how can it be a ton?  Okay, whatever, anyway, I felt guilty okay?  They were right, weren't they?  I mean, they were much older and they had asked me for a fish many times over the years.  I always swore on my dead grandmothers grave, (or I would have if I had a dead grandmother) that I would never be a fish owner.  But I lied didn't I?  I got a fish even though I swore I never would and I didn't get one for Truman and Grace and now they were calling me out!  I was a liar!  Well, that was not okay with me.  I am not a liar!  By-golly, I will not be made a mockery of, I will march right down to that fish store and buy my kids a fish!  Three fish can't be any more work than one.  I'm going to get them the fish that they've always dreamed of and they're going to love me for it.  They will love me and every time they look at their little fishies faces, they will think of what a great Mom they have and that she is not a liar.  She's a great Mom!  That's what they're going to say!

So, unfortunately no one called PetSmart to tell them I was coming.  I did my business and I came right out with the fish that I promised my kids I would get them.  Plus...seven more fish...and a frog...and a 10 gallon fish tank...and a heater...and a light and some bubble thingy that has a sponge in it and MORE FOOD AND SOME BOTTLES OF WATERY STUFF THAT'S SUPPOSED TO HELP THE TAP WATER IN SOME WAY AND......aaaaaaAAAAHHHH!!!  The fish lady at PetSmart walked away very soon after I stood very stoically  repeating, "I'm stupid, huh...I mean...aren't I stupid?  I was never going to be a fish owner!  This is stupid isn't it?  I don't know how to take care of fish....what's that spongy thing for again?"  

They kindly assisted me to my car with my fish gear.  They are so nice there!

You see, they made sure I got exactly what I needed.  Beta's can't live with other fish, so I had to get 3 different fishies altogether.  But the one's that could live peaceably only swam in SCHOOLS!  That's right....I SAID IT, SCHOOLS!  I know so little about fish, I don't even know if that's how you spell "schools".  And of course, 10 fish won't live in a 1 gallon tank, they have to live in a 10 gallon tank.  Wierd.  And they have to be warm and the light makes them pretty and the chemicals are used for something important, I'm sure.  So, off I went.

Exactly one week later, I was back.  Carrying a baggy full of 10 dead fish.  I kindly returned the fish, using my receipt that I was so brilliantly wise to hang on to, and exchanged them for 1o new fish that looked exactly the same.  It was a fantastic idea, I knew.  No one would be the wiser, right?  I mean they look exactly the same, I'd get them in the tank before the kids got home from school and ta-da!  All is well.

One hour later, I was back at PetSmart with the receipt that I was so brilliantly wise enough to keep, exchanging the 10 dead fish for 10 new fish! :)

Okay, so, this time I told the PetSmart girl that I wanted 10 totally different fish.  Maybe this time they'd live.  I mean, 10 new fish...all new luck!!  How can I go wrong?  No problem.

So after a few hours on the internet, educating myself on the life of a fish-owner, I was off to the races.  I changed the water, cleaned the little sponge-thingy, washed the fish off and said "Hi" to the frog.    

Two days later, I had 13 baby fishies.

Awesome.

So, new tank, new rocks, new spongy-thingy, fresh food.  It's all good.  I'M SO EXCITED!!!!

Yay.

One week later:

Soooooo.....I was headed to bed last night and decided, HEY!  I think I might check the water with my new little water-checking-strippy-thingies and for the love of all that is good, the fish were on their death bed.  I guess water gets toxic when fish poop and pee in it.  

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!!?

By 3am, I'd changed the water (found the frog.... thought he was a goner for sure), more research, new bowls for everyone.

Good news...they were all alive when I woke up this morning.  I'll let you know when I get the tank for the next 13 fish.

Fish are awesome.  Yay.  

The end.