Wednesday, May 14, 2008

I interrupt my regularly scheduled programming to bring you this important news...

I am sorry to say that Jeff, the 2cm frog died yesterday in the aquarium.

Jeff was Aidan's frog (Aidan is six) that lived in Ethan's tank (Ethan is ten).

I am upstairs, supposed to be putting laundry away, but the draw of the computer is too much. Just want to check my email for one second, when I hear Aidan frantically screaming "Mom, mom, where are you?"

Due the decibel of scream, I figure someone is either dead or very near death. I leap up to run to the rescue, and greet Aidan in the hallway of my bedroom. His little white face all red, and ruddy, and runny with tears and snot.

"Aidan", I say, "what is the matter?"

"Jeff diiiied", he says and on the word died, he completely collapses into a teary tantrum. Poor little soul, he is heartbroken, and so I call in Ethan for verification.

Ethan, my little crocodile hunter in the making, comes down, fish net in hand, and starts to detail how he found Jeff dismembered in the tank. "His eyeballs are out, and his head skeleton..."

"Okay, Ethan, enough" , I say putting my free hand up, as I hold Aidan to my chest.

"Aidan, Ethan asks sweetly, why does death bring out the best in us?, do you want to come flush him with me?"

Sobbing hysterically, Aidan says no. I can't get him to stop crying, and so I decide we will make an impromptu trip to Petco, where we wind up buying a little five dollar tank, in addition to two new frogs, because according the sales girl, these little frogs sometimes can't get enough air or food in a large aquarium.

I call my husband from the car to tell him where we are. So much for it taking fifteen minutes. Sierra, the thirteen year old, wants to know, can she get a dog like Lauren from the Hills? What would she have to do? Ethan wants a bull frog. Isabelle wants a cat, even though we already have two at home; and Tasha and I really like the parakeets. To top it off, we get in line behind some wacko buying a ferret. She is letting it crawl all over her shoulders, and telling it about its brothers and sisters at home. Of course, she is writing a check. The trip has now taken over an hour, and that's just the time that we have been in the store.

So I call my husband to ask him if he wants to cook or if I should just get take out. He agrees to cook, and asks me why I rushed out to get him a new frog- shouldn't I be teaching him that this is what happens in life. "You're a softee he says to me".

The truth is though, I am not at all bothered by this label. Yes, there was a moment on the way to the store where I thought, am I handling this situation properly? But it was only a moment, and the answer that came to my head was yes, I am.

In my earlier years, I might have been filled with more self-doubt, might have questioned myself a bit more, but now I know. Moms can't fix everything. Even if Ethan deserves to be on the travel soccer team, or Sierra should have the lead in the play, there is nothing that I can do, or nothing that I am willing to do. Those are the lessons of the life that they must learn. I can't force kids to invite them over to their houses,can't make them the most popular, the richest, the smartest, the most athletic. They all do just fine in their own right, but their little lives aren't perfect, and you know who it's hardest on- Mom.

As a mother, there are so many times that you just want to step in and fix everything, and make their lives like a day at Disney World, but then you realize that you have to resist for their own good, and sometimes it seems as if doing so could kill you. So when you can be a superhero simply by driving to Petco and purchasing two little two dollar frogs- well it's awfully to resist, because what is the harm?

By the way, was going to write today about either naming your baby, in reference again to a post by her bad mother (seriously am not stalking you, but your posts keep making me have flashbacks), or about my BF who turned into an F'ing B ( crazy how that term turns around just like so many BF's turn into F'ing Bs), or about the Fantasy Island sleepover party that I am planning (yes, I am serious, yes, there something wrong with me, and yes I actually know people who are not only willing, but excited to come.)

Well, two weeks are up, so I have to go and clean for the cleaning ladies (another post I promise to write soon) Thanks for stopping by, come back again- Laurie

1 comment:

mommastantrum said...

I would have bought four frogs probably...just in case.

And you're right, do what you can to make it better when you can, and when you can't then be there to hold them when they cry.

You are a smarty pants mom.