Oh My God, I Think I'm More Traumatized Than Morgan.

I don't even know where to begin.

For those of you who know about all of the animal tragedies in this house, you're not going to be surprised by the end of this story at all. Disturbed, maybe, but not surprised. For those of you who don't know about Wally, Fez, the koi fish that were floating, and various other wild animals that have launched themselves into our egress windows on a straight shot to twitchy hell, please feel free to read previous blogs about the death and destruction that occurs around here.

So where to start?

We have gone through perhaps 6-7 Beta fish. But as far as Morgan is concerned, she's always had just the ONE. Luckily, she never pays attention to her fish, and the little plastic tank that has served as its (plural) residence was so covered in stickers that she couldn't really see it, so every time a fish would die, I'd go get a new one and switch out the old with the new before she was ever the wiser! Hey, it was painful enough to have to explain the whole Wally and Fez thing to her (going to live with God and baby Jesus, batteries running out), and even then, she never really SAW death. She never saw the bodies, lifeless.

And then tonight happened because, for the gazillionth time, I'm not winning parent of the year any time soon.

The girls were playing nicely in Avery's room with the 8-10 purses they made me drag down from the top of the closet where I had hid them (not well enough, apparently). They were good to go, and I knew that Dan was watching Big Brother in his office, and I had already seen the episode. But it was a good one, a veto competition to rock the ages, a duel of this season's annoying "showmance" couple, and there was puke involved. So I wanted to watch it again, with Dan. We sat in his office for maybe 30 minutes. The girls were quietly playing (which yes, should have been my first clue that disaster was occurring, but you know that you do it too, sometimes....you know they're up to no good, but it's just so darn quiet, YOU DON'T CARE!!!!)

After the vomiting veto competition, I opened the office door to go check on the kids, just as they were coming out of Morgan's room. I didn't even hear them open Avery's door and close Morgan's. And I was immediately faced with the question that no parent wants to hear: "Mommy, wanna see something???!!!"

In my head: NO! What did you do?!?!?!

Me:Sure.

Morgan: Well, we dumped Avery's fish into my fish's container so they can play!

Pause.
Side note.
Let's remember that these are not pretty goldfish who will "play" nicely in the metaphorical sandbox. These are Beta fish and they'll fight to the death on sight. Awesome.

Me: Oh my gosh, girls! No!!!!! These fish will fight with each other! You know you're not allowed to touch the fish!

And I spastically carried the little tanks to the bathroom to dump the one fish back into the other tank, and I realized, um..........they weren't looking too healthy.

And I'll admit this - we have been out of fish food for awhile. The dogs managed to find and eat two containers of it, and I've been meaning to buy more. But Beta fish are known for being pretty easy to care for, so I didn't think too much about it. In hindsight, perhaps that was a neglectfully bad idea. Bad mommy.

But, yeah, they were sort of floating sideways, gasping, dazed, obviously on the verge of a little piscine death, and I began to wonder if they had even fought at all.

As I tried to wash out the dirty water and hopefully revive the fish, Avery was hanging on to my arm, wanting to play with her fish:
"Can I play with it in the sink?"
NO!
"Can I hold it?"
NO!
"Can I pet it?"
NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! GO AWAY!!!!!!!!

Morgan was crying in her room because she knew she was in trouble, although she wasn't completely sure as to why. She just knew she wasn't supposed to touch the fish. She was sobbing. Screaming. Crying. Loudly.

Then the real terror started - Morgan asking questions. (Avery could care less).

"Mommy, what's wrong with the fish? Will they be okay?"

Me: Well, Morgan, they aren't doing so well. Their little bodies aren't good.

Morgan: Are they...DYING?!?!??!?!

Pause:
Yes, she SORT OF knows what death is. Let's not forget that Morgan has figured out that when she's older, she'll move away from me, which doesn't make her happy. She wants to move in NEXT TO me, and bring Deagan with her. And when she told the little neighbor girl this, the girl told Morgan that Deagan will be DEAD by then...well, you can imagine the tears and anxiety that accompanied that scenario. I had to assure Morgan that she could take Deagy, and when she asked how old he was and I said 4, she said, "oh...that's not old at all". No, baby. No, he's not old at all. You can have Deagy when you move next door, and I'm going to go tell your stupid little friend that there isn't a Santa Claus.

Me: Yes, they are.

Morgan: Can we get new ones?

Me: No, honey. Not right now. Let's just deal with this first.

Morgan: But what happens when they stop working?

Me: Well, their little bodies may not work anymore, but their little fishy thoughts and little fishy personalities go to a very special fishy place where they can swim and swim and be happy all the time.

Morgan: (crying) But I don't WANT my fish to go! I want to keep them!

Me: Aw, honey. I know. It's sad. But they'll be very happy in magical fishy land.

Morgan: (emphatically, with tears) Can we take them there? Can you, me, and Avery take them?

Me: (choking on regret) No, honey. They get there by magic. Poof. Disappear.

Morgan: (cries. more.)

Pause:
So after a lot of hugs and a promise that she could have an icee, she calmed down. I got Avery into bed, and went back to check on Morgan.

Me: Are you alright now, hon?

Morgan: Yeah. But Mommy, I have to tell you a truth that might make you mad.

Me: (inside my head. F*%#)

Me: Well, Morgan, I'd prefer that you just tell me the truth rather than keep it from me.

Morgan: Well, me and Avery, we, like, took the fish out of their cages and played with them, and, like, Avery held her in her hands and it JUMPED out and we LOST it, but then we FOUND it! HEEHEEHEE! And mine (holds her finger in a pinch position), I held it like this and it wiggled so funny!

Me: (inside horrified!) Okay, Morgan, see this isn't good at all.

Pause:
Earlier today, we had JUST had a discussion about how fish breathe water and people breathe air - they were watching a cartoon about fish and they wanted to know. I even asked Morgan what would happen if we breathed water, and she said "we'll die" (yes, extreme) so I know she gets that end of it. Anyway, I asked her how fish feel breathing air if they're supposed to breathe water. Her response? "They'll die". And in that moment I realized that I might have completely traumatized my baby girl. My empathetic, sensitive, wanna please and care for everything baby girl. Like I've said before - DEFINITELY NOT winning parent of the year.

So I proceeded to explain how playing with the fish was not a good idea. She understood.

Morgan: Can I see what my fish is doing?

Me: (shit).

Morgan: Mommy, I want to see her.

Me: okay, honey (shit, shit).

So we went to see Rainbow #7

Morgan: (crying now) Mommy, I love her so much. See the stickers I put on there? The hearts? They...mean...I...LOVE....HER!!!!!

And at this point I'm crying, too. My baby sees death and I think I'm gonna be more traumatized than she is! I didn't want her to see this or know this. I never wanted her to have to feel sadness or pain or guilt or suffering or anxiety or loneliness or....anything other than joy. WTF?!?!?! Is that so difficult??!?!?!?!?! UGH! My heart is bleeding and aching for her sorrow. And she's probably up in her room right now thinking nothing about it, blissfully being 5 and watching Horseland as her happy little soul drifts off to la-la land while my 39 year old insane mom brain will continue to stew over this all night long and have vivid nightmares about little fish who are slowly, desperately, angrily gasping for their last breaths of air, floating listlessly in a sideways position, gills pulsing as hard as they can to hold onto life for as long as they can, and blaming ME for their misfortune, and all I want to do is flush them NOW so they aren't up there just dying, dying, dying. Just die already so you're out of your misery and out of my life. But they float there, taunting me. Staring at me. Awkwardly sinking and floating and wilting...then staring at me some more when I dare to go up and look to see if they're truly DEAD dead yet. Fish eyes are pretty creepy when you look at them up close, and these four fishy eyes, dull with impending death, are staring straight into my soul, cursing me for my inadequacies.

So I'm sorry little Avery's fish who never had a name other than "Fishy". And I'm sorry Rainbow #7 about neglecting you and letting my kids manhandle you to death. May you float in peace when I flush you both down the drain tonight so I can tell my kids that you magically disappeared.

Oh...Morgan? When you are older and possibly reading all of this, please know that when I was maybe 5-7, I took my goldfish out of its bowl one Saturday morning and dried it off, thinking I was helping it. It, too, died.
So, my love, you're not the only one. Like mama like baby. :)

*******************************************************************

Morning update:

I woke up and gradually remembered that I had some fish to flush before the girls woke up. So I begrudgingly trudged up the stairs, and when I reached their final destination, I noticed Rainbow #7 STILL ALIVE!!!!! I mean, if you consider rolling on its side, glazed over eyes, barely moving, obviously on its last fins "alive". But it was alive, nonetheless.  So I found myself in quite the conundrum. To flush or not to flush? Could I really flush a little fish that was sort of still glub glubbing, aware of its inability to function? Would that actually just be putting it out of its misery? What if I kept it around and tried to nurse it back to health? But I did tell Morgan that they would magically disappear and go to happy fishy land, so I have to get rid of the fish somehow. Avery's fish? Yeah, totally dead. That thing never had a name, let alone a chance with Avery as its owner. So that one was an easy dump in the toilet. Rainbow #7 however? I bumped the tank a little bit to see what would happen, and the thing really didn't even react - it just sort of got thrown around by the water. So I figured it only had another hour or so. (But that's what I thought last night!!!). I regretfully scooped it out of the tank and put it in the toilet, immediately wishing I could take it back! But stupid Rainbow just went all the way down and back into the farthest nether-regions of the porcelain tomb, so the decision, at that point, was pretty much made. So I had to conquer the last portion of this murderous deed - the flush. Hesitant, paranoid, karma-fearing, I reached in. Waited. Waited. Pondered. Took a deep breath. Flushed....

MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (From right next to me at the top of her little Avery lungs)

I damn near jumped out of my skin, my heart skipped two beats (maybe three), and I broke out in a cold sweat. Did she SEE what I just did? Did she catch me in the middle of a most malicious and malignant murder? Oh, the horror!!!!!

MOMMY! I WOKE UP EARLY!!!!

Yes, yes you did, baby. Let's go, get out, nothing to see here, let's go downstairs, move it!!!!



I don't think she saw. And frankly, because she's kind of a little sociopath, I don't think she'd care.

So bye, bye fishies. Bye, bye sanity.

Hello insane asylum.