Parenting is hard!
Harder in a pandemic...
by MMB on July 12, 2020
To help my only child get through COVID-19, we have created an aquatic zoo. Some of these creatures came to us on purpose, some did not. When we were into quarantine week number three, and the isolation was getting to my 8 ½ social-butterfly. So, we took a walk and the neighbor around the corner was giving away a 20-gallon tank with stand and accessories for free. She said it worked perfectly - no leaks, they just thought it was time to give it up.
I had an aquarium that moved with me from Dallas to Austin to Waco, but when I came to New York City, that 50-gallon tank went bye-bye. My husband has always endured my love for aquatic animals but assured me that we would NEVER have an aquarium. On that day, though, when I called him from behind a tree to ask him to bring the Highlander around the corner. “Honey,” I said, “I know you said that we would never do this, as fish are too much work, and that fish have met their demise in the nano tank, but it is just because it was too small. AND...I have a feeling this pandemic is going nowhere anytime soon. The kid on the other side of this huge oak tree is going to need something to challenge her mind. Something to engage her.” He sat quietly on the other side of the phone, then sighed and said, “Just don’t say anymore. I will be there in a sec.”
We have spent quite a bit on this free fish tank, which has now lead to a tank that houses 4 turtles, next to the “community tank” with the nano tank now being repurposed by Jeff-Jeff because his two friends, Jeff and Jeff were discovered in various stages of decay this morning. Yes, it was confusing, but we have gone with all of the suggested names, though I did get to name one of the Map turtles Atlas; it took some convincing, though.
A scream came from the living room, and Jamie and I ran from our coffee on the deck. “He’s dead, he’s really dead!” Damn, I thought, this is not going to be good. “Okay, I said, we need the net and a burial shroud.” Using the term “paper towel” has seemed more than insensitive on occasions like this, so we very formally call it the former. The winding sheet was carefully brought my way, and I flopped poor Jeff out of the net into a perfectly laid out specimen. I was this close to asking her if she would like my little scalpel to perform a dissection, but I read the room when she asked me for my phone so we could take one last picture to remember him by. Ugh, I thought, his tragic little body was just laying there, splayed out like a lab experiment. “Yes,” I said, “however, I am not really sure this is him at his best, my darling. Won’t it make you sad?” Tears were still streaming down her face, she shook her head no, and snapped the pic.
It was time for a froggy funeral and it was our first. The frogs are her favorite, you see. I had read that African Drawf Frogs like Jeff-Jeff like to have more than one in the tank. We had had some recent disappearances of late, and thus the ordering of Jeff and Jeff came upon us.
We called Gran on Facetime (I explained the situation ahead of time to ensure that he was indeed going to “read the room” and understand this was a grave matter, and he should act accordingly.) He grinned but understood. We called Bailey downstairs and told her that Gran was going to give Jeff’s eulogy and help us give him the respectable ceremony he deserves. The three of us, with Gran in tow, went to the front where 14 tiles and rocks mark the lives of various fish who expired due to our scientific endeavor in aquatics. We bowed our heads, Gran sent him to heaven, and then we each sent him off with our own words about Jeff’s time in what Jamie now calls, in secret, of course, the “deathtrap.”
We come in, again, another scream! “It is the ghost shrimp, they are killing the Jeffs! Get in here.” Shit, I thought, I had plans for a very different day than this. Again, we scoop, grab another shroud, but this time, a picture of the decaying little guy was not suggested. She ran back over to the tank to have me scoop out the missing leg so he could, “have all of him when he goes to the Rainbow Bridge.” Okey dokey, I net the leg and include it in the package for burial. “Mom, we need another eulogy, Gran already had to do it once.”
I call Nana and Baba, again explaining the seriousness of our situation. They say they will call us back in 15. Tears continuing to flow, I say, “Okay, it is time that we start to hypothesize, guys. What are we not seeing? Ghost shrimp clean the tank, they are helpers, not the perpetrators here. Hold it, quickly, Bailey, get the test strips!” This spun my daughter from a sniveling mess to Nancy Drew. She efficiently dipped and then told me that our nitrates were “through the roof!” We had been diligent about water-testing when we were cycling the tank, but I had forgotten the importance of partial water changes. Oops. We had been replacing the water evaporating, which only concentrated the icky stuff that was going in there. The water was clear, and most of the deaths have been explained by whom was trying to catch whom, and most of them were attributed to a little bastard who cost $3.99 and was supposed to be fine in a community tank. Do not EVER get a pea pod pufferfish. This one-quarter inch fish at the tales off of around $50 worth of fish. He had been moved to the nano, and everyone stuck their tongues out at him when we walked by. I shot him the middle finger once or twice myself on the way upstairs.
Jamie got the bucket and I got the vacuum parts that I had very good intentions to use, but the clear aquarium made me cocky. The problem was, I had used the hose outside in the turtle pond to keep the water flowing out there. I swear to God, Jamie and I felt like we were on the Apollo 13 mission. We laid out all of the parts and fittings and told Bailey to help us treat it like a puzzle. I was trying to use an extra pump because I have had to suck the hose to get it started before, and it is not a pleasant experience. We got all the parts right, but the pump was not designed for that. Jamie and I looked at each other and did rock-paper-scissors. Even though I won, my gallant husband said I was even more immunocompromised than he, so he pulled hard on the hose. Luckily, the bucket was there because he looked a little green. We filled the first bucket with fish poo and toxic water, and I called for him to dump it. In walks my man with the wet-dry vac and sucks it up in two seconds. I told him that I want to kiss him right now, but he just drank fish water, and that is just gross.
I start on the second bucket and Nana and Baba call back to say they are ready for Jeff #3’s funeral (Bailey insisted it was #3). I call Jamie in and he says, “Now, really? If we stop, I am going to have to suck that damn tube again.” Bailey has already grabbed Jeff#3 from the morgue, which doubles as the top drawer of our freezer. “Yes, now,” I say as I reluctantly agree to suck the hose the next time. Out we go again, this time with Nana and Baba, to pick a spot for the second dead frog of the day. I suggested it might be nice to bury him next to Jeff #2 so they can be together. Nana takes hold of Jeff’s adieu and suggests that Jeff and Jeff might be with her horses, Jack and Johnny. We all started talking of little frogs in cowboy boots flying on the backs of these well-loved horses. The tears stopped, we said our goodbyes and I went back to sucking the hose.
Petco was in the cards for us today anyway because the rescue frog, Jearry (pronounced “Jerry,” but B insisted he needed a special spelling), was clearly unhappy with his housing arrangements. Two days before, he escaped the nano tank and disappeared. That was a weepy day also. We hunted a bit, but I suggested we let him come to us when he is ready. I seemed confident and reassuring, but I saw many scenarios flashing through my head of tragic ways we could find Jearry:
1. Snickers, our cat who stole the goldfish just for fun, might walk proudly into a room with frog legs hanging out of his mouth. FYI, B yelled “murderer!” at him for a week after he left “king” the goldfish flopping in the basement which led to me doing fishy CPR in the middle of the night. You might have guessed I was not successful at that task, though I did try.
2. I forget to watch where I am walking and SQUISH. I can only imagine what she would call me for years if he met his demise under my very own foot. That would be therapy on both sides, for sure.
3. That I would hit the button on the recliner and...we’ll, you know.
4. It was vacuuming day, but all of us agreed that it was a very good idea to postpone that particular chore. The Roomba was given a vacation until further notice.
5. That one of us would slip our toes into a shoe, and then...ew. I did tell everyone it would be wise to go with bare feet so we might be more aware of our surroundings.
Later in the day, I made Bailey take a walk with me in the pouring rain to kick and splash outside. I came in after, jumped in a warm shower left my wrung-out clothes on the shower seat.
After pizza, B said she was a bit anxious about sleeping that night because, “What if Jearry plops on my face in the middle of the night? Can you even imagine how much that would freak me out? Come on,” she continued. I assured her that would never happen. After she fell asleep, I started thinking it might not be so cool to be rudely awoken by a tree frog sticking to my face.
I turned on Spring Peeper frog sounds on all of our speakers and played them while I wrote some letters. Thought it might lure the poor guy from his hiding place, and it is a very relaxing sound.
I went in to brush my teeth and Jearry was cooling himself off and hydrating in my wet underpants and shorts on the stone shower bench. (No, He jumped before we could get that pic.)
I ran upstairs to get Jamie for backup. This guy is a jumper and his habitat was not intact. Jamie stood guard while I ran out in the rain to get a bigger boat, so to speak. I grabbed a huge clear plastic file box, and a grate to put on the top with very small holes. Remember when I said he was a jumper? Jamie tried to grab him and he jumped a good 18 inches to our new glass shower door. I tried to gently coherence him onto my hand and the little bastard used my arm, then the back of my neck. He then vaulted off of the top of my head, only to launch himself over Jamies’s head to stick himself to the tile wall on the other side of the shower. During this time, I was laughing my ass off, but also very nervous that Jearry would make his way down the back of my tee-shirt-at least I escaped that.
Jamie used the frog whisperer technique and I had the temporary enclosure ready. He held Jearry down to put him on a stick, and the little guy just sat on Jamie’s hand, very calmly. My hubby tried to turn his hand upside down, Jearry clung to him. It was very sweet, but not the adrenaline shot I needed at 1:30am. Well-played, Jearry, well-played. We will be getting you an apartment that suits you more property.
My refusal to give Jearry a new home led us to Petco today to get something that will suit him more properly. While I am talking to the awesome pet nerds about the right enclosure, my sweet beautiful compassionate daughter is falling in love with a cat named “Snickers,” amazingly enough (that is her cat’s name). “We have to adopt her momma, we have too.” I calmly explain that our rule is two dogs, two cats. Period. I go back to getting fish for the pond and whatever the hell we need to accommodate the rescue frog. Again, a tug on my shirt, “Momma, seriously, she is so sweet. Aren’t you and I compassionate souls who take care of helpless animals?” I take my phone out of my pocket and tell her to call her father and ask him, but she better tell him that my answer was already a very clear NO. About a minute and a half later, she comes back to me full-on ugly cry and tells me Daddy said no. I was 99.9% sure that I had sent the right telepathic message from West Orange to Glen Ridge, but I still sighed in relief when she told me the news. When we got home we laughed about the ESP that 15 years of marriage brings, but then he said, “I have to admit, I was about 10% scared that a cat was coming home with you today. She is little, though she is mighty, I thought maybe you would cave.
It was then that Bailey and I went to a private aisle. “Honey,” I said, “you cannot do this. Do you see that cart full of fish and that big frog habitat? It can all go back. I love your big heart, I know that you are lonely, but that is not a reasonable request. So, you need to stop, get a hold of yourself and breathe. I need to finish this up and be done. I had a whole plan today and it was not this. Dad and I suggested that Jearry have a home outside where maybe he can meet a nice girl peeper of his own, but you said you did not want him to die. Now I am spending $100 to alleviate your fears. We do not have to do that. Capiche?”
I am checking out, and just trying to get out of there. When I put my card in the machine, I was so distracted that I hit “yes” when I shouldn’t have. I thought it was cashback, but instead, I donated $20 to Petco’s campaign to save more animals. The teenager behind the register says, “Wow, thanks, Ma’am! You are very generous.” He grabs a paw off the wall and asked whose name should go on it. By that time, I was way too embarrassed to admit my mistake, so I spun it. I called to my kid who was still crying in the vestibule. That sweet kid and the manager told her that she just saved some loves of pets everywhere and she should be very proud. She reluctantly slump-walked to the glass door to stick it on.
I ordered curbside from Panera next door because I figured she hunger had a part in these tears. While we were waiting, she then hugged me and said, “Oh Mother, I am going to miss her so.” At this point, what I really want to say is, “Are you serious right now? You have looked at this cat for 15 minutes, one who scratched you, btw, and you were sobbing in the middle of Petco - give me a break kid!” Instead, I realize that this is her 8-year-old truth, and that I need to be sensitive to that.
“Babe, is this like when we met Lara, who helped us rescue Jearry, and you cried in the hotel room because you were going to miss her and we would never see her again? Does it feel like that?” She nodded her head.to acknowledge it was. “Okay, so I get it. We are very generous people with our hearts, my darling. It is a risk to love so whole-heartedly and openly, but we do it because it is worth it and it has the possibility of bringing us joy. I also know that this is not entirely about that cat. That cat will be adopted to the proper home, which is not ours, and we cannot make it our problem. I have a feeling that is about months of being lonely, bored, and frustrated with this stupid pandemic. It sucks for almost everyone we know, and since January all of us have had more to deal with than most, but we, Team Bennett, will find a way through this.”
I then talked to her about resilience and that it is important to teach her the things, at 49 I am having to relearn or learn anew. I don’t want her to have to wait that long. I explained that being resilient does not mean that we never cry, or put on armor to cover our feelings. It means that we go through all of that and we feel it however hard we need to. But then, we look at it, ask if that feeling is true, test it and see if you can prove it is true and work from there. It means being flexible enough to do the work to figure out if we have a choice in the way we feel. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t--sometimes you just have to sit in it for a bit. Be mad, be sad, be outraged if you want. But then take a breath, a very deep one, ask yourself how you dig yourself out. I explained to her that I have worked very hard for the last couple of years to see things differently. You CAN be in charge of your feelings. I explained that it so is easy to be swept away by some overwhelming feeling, being sad, scared, or angry are sometimes gifts that tell you to take a look at your thinking right now. In this moment, while we are waiting for our food must I feel this sad or can I change that?
I have been sneaking in lessons like this as I have been absorbing and believing them to be my truth. I am pretty sure she hears me because I have seen little change. Tonight my husband told me that he has never been so in love with me --even though we spend way too much time together, since, well, you know. He said that very few people decide to change the way they operate. I argued that there were tons of people that do because I have a hard time taking a compliment. I will own this one though because he is right. It is not easy, it is a tough road, and it takes bravery and vulnerability to take your inventory. I am doing it a minute at a time, but almost dying two weeks ago hit me like a ton of bricks. I did not almost die on the operating table. I almost died while I was fully awake, aware and that changes you. Life is too short not to live it honestly and vulnerably.
Thank you Brene Brown, Bryon Katie, and Emily Stein (our work is just beginning) for the work you do. It is changing my world and my family’s too. You are badasses, just like me.