Fishtastrophe

We have had a fish tank since November of 2015, approximately 8 months. 10 gallons of passing glances at cute fish with colorful names and scales. I was able to withstand the barrage of "Dad, can we have a dog..." and the compromise was the tank and the fish. Little did I know, fish can be expensive and often, they don't last.

My family and I have unfortunately negatively impacted conservation efforts on several species of aquarium fish, including the Betta and Danio population over the last 8 months. PETA has begun protests in front of our house, and my children fear leaving the safety of our home, as someone may throw red paint on us on the way to our car. It's gotten pretty bad, we have failed 7 fish, and have only 2 brave souls remaining. I thought perhaps eating sushi in front of them was part of the problem, however, we have now gotten to the point where I think they may enjoy a "last dinner" more than they dislike seeing their breathren on our table.

They have shared wonderful names, such as Alvin, Simon, Theodore, Glimmer, Mr Sucker, Glubs, and Glubs the second. Tributes can be found in our backyard for Glubs the second, he was buried below our mulch near the playhouse. Glubs "the original" may or may not have been flushed down the toilet before my children came home, I cannot confirm or deny his whereabouts.

Friday evening, after work, I had to remove Mr Sucker, who was sleeping with the fishes, or Luca Brasi, if you are old enough to remember this reference. Saturday morning, after a night out with friends while our kids had a sitter, I was forced to extract Glimmer, who was supposedly still blinking, in spite of the fact he was stuck to the intake pipe of the water filter upside down the entire morning. After a failed attempt at resuscitation to pacify my children, Glimmer circled the drain and made his way to water treatment.

What has been truly amazing to watch, has been the transformation in my girls.

We began with massive sobbing and tears when Glubs the first passed and I failed to provide a proper burial. Glubs the 2nd was buried with a prayer and memorial service.

Somewhere in between Glubs the Deuce and Mr Sucker, my children went from wanting to host a wake, to flipping the fish into the toilet and flushing it themselves.

I blame myself, my inability to keep fish alive certainly has made their disposability an issue.

This event has led to a revelation. Girls don't need fish. Anyone want a 10 gallon tank before my kids begin to think nature is disposable? 2 fish included if you make it soon...

Enjoy!

bvd

I remember those days...

I'm not sure when it first began, when I started thinking about events that occurred in the past with my girls and began thinking, "I remember those days" , however, it has started occurring more frequently the last several months as I marvel at how fast my daughters are growing in vocabulary, height, and particularly developing into their own crazy characters.

Aside from the traditional father to future son in law thoughts like, "good luck son" and "may the force be with you" of late trickling through my brain, I've caught a few "I remember when's..."

This morning on a business trip, after boarding a plane, and after receiving some very cute texts from wife and spouse with emoji's I'm still deciphering like an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph, a tiny baby girl swaddled in her mothers arms accompanied by an obviously exceptional grandmother, scooted into two seats directly in front of where I was seated. Short flight from Detroit to Philly, I am thinking I might have some entertainment and a baby I get to goo goo too and mutually entertain. I'm a terrible judge of baby age, so I would put this little grommet at the approximate of 6 months, only because it's July and we have just entered the 7th month of the year.

Unfortunately, this content child was far too amazing, quietly purring and smiling in her mother's arms to focus on much else in the world. I doubted I would see or hear much of this child's personality on the flight.

A thought trickled through my head, I remember when .... my children would be this content for about 5 minutes before unleashing the fury on all those in earshot. It seemed like forever ago when they had attention spans longer than a goldfish and could stare at your eyes for what seemed like forever. No I could tell, this child was extremely content, had a great mother and the power of grandma sitting right next to her, this child was going to be lucky to wake from their love induced coma.

It is amazing when you take the time to watch the interaction of a baby with the world around them. Such a special place their view of the world can be sometimes, full of wonder, content, exploration, coming from a basic foundation of safety and support. Freedom to fail and learn by doing so, with a careful catastrophe prevention squad as your guide.

So as we all settled into our seats and prepared to travel in bliss, the baby popped up and smiled between the seats ready to explore. Adorable child, I remember when popped up again for me too ... remembering when my kids were that adorable ... they loved to cuddle ... they loved to explore ..... it came rushing back and a large smile broke across my face. The baby smiled as well.

Such joy in believing you were responsible for a child's smile. 

And then the cute baby giggled lightly, oh the joy!

It was at this moment, the I remember's began to flow

A faint odor slid it's way between the cracks of the pleather, trickling over the armrest. Gas probably, no wonder the child is smiling... I remember when my kids would toot and giggle....

The baby turned and smiled at the gentleman in the seat next to her... I remember when my 6 month old would flirt with strangers and make someone else's day too....

Then I heard the mother firmly pronounce, "oh $%@" and lift the smiling baby into the air off her pants... I remember when my girls pee'd through their diapers....

And as the adorable child continued to smile, the grandmother and mother discovered what we all know. Where there is smoke, there is fire, and the leak was not going to be allowed to mellow because it was not yellow...

At that moment, I remembered something very important, all the times when something natural and unexpected occurred in public with my child, and suddenly I was embarrassed and should not have been. Empathy flowed, but was not necessary here.

As I mentioned earlier, mom and grandma were exceptional. Pants were changed, magic wipes and a bottomless mommy bag produced not only a change of children's clothes, but mothers pants as well. I remain impressed we did not have to call in a bio hazard team and delay the plane.

Ironically, our entire flight was delayed over 1.5 hours, forced to deplane and the airline had to bring in another plane because of a mechanical issue, the computer part they needed to fix the plane, was not available in their hub in Detroit. Three comments:

1. If this mother and grandmother were our mechanic, they could have pulled whatever part we needed out of their bag, and perhaps a new plane too they were so well prepared

2. Perhaps this 6 month old uber child knew our trip was going to go to crap anyway

3. It's a lot of fun to remember when you are a daddy with daughters

Enjoy!

bvd


 

Road Trip

In America, the family road trip is a rite of passage, exceptional memories created for future generations of your spawn to reflect upon. It is a red white and blue institution, like baseball, apple pie, and politicians being full of themselves and baloney.

Road trips can be the prelude to new beginnings, new experiences, or new places. The colonist in all of us has a pre-disposition to explore, and from the early beginnings of our great experiment in the United States, the road trip was your birth rite.

I remember road trips with both my parents. Usually the funny or odd things stand out.

Like the time, "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac was stuck in the 8 track player of my dad's TR-7 and played on constant loop from Texas to Cincinnati. Now listening to that song brings back Clockwork Orange like flashbacks and I'm sure permanently scarred me into always thinking about tomorrow when I should be thinking about today because, it will be here, better than before. I mean, everyone knows yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone...

Or the time, my mother and I road tripped to California from Wisconsin. This was certainly a new beginning. I had just learned how in karate class to calm my breathing. I learned that trip, when we got to the mountains, that 10% gradients with Semi's around our tiny car was stressful for some adults. I remember my mother pulling over, mid descent, and attempting to teach her karate breathing so we could finish the drive.

So, as a dad with daughters, I decided it was prudent to make sure my children experienced a road trip. A family member is to be married today in Florida, and we made the decision to drive from Wisconsin to Palm Harbor, which according to the AAA TripTik, is 39.25 hours round trip, 2,664 miles, or "What were you thinking" distance.

To further pander to the inner colonist in all of us, I bypassed the horse and buggy, but chose to attempt the trip in our Toyota Camry, in spite of the fact we have a perfectly fine larger vehicle we could have taken. The first argument started before we left the house during the attempted packing of enough suitcases to clothe a civil war infantry regiment, into the trunk. The backseat was filled with pillows and books and all the suitcases and clothes we couldn't fit in the trunk. Somehow 2 children fit into their car seats. I consciously figured since we were headed to Florida, that looking like the Beverly Hillbillies or a mobile version of hoarders was acceptable in the state. I was correct.

To give you a snapshot of our trip, I recorded the first hour highlights of our 39.25 hour round trip:

38 seconds into the trip, "I need a snack"

13 minutes in came, "When are we going to be at the hotel" which repeated in similar format 27 times in the first hour, including "are we there yet" "when are we going to be there" etc etc etc

26 minutes in, I was told we forgot someone at the house. Just before I applied the brakes and caused an accident, I learned that we had forgotten one of my youngest daughter's imaginary friends. I didn't like this particular imaginary friend anyway, so we kept driving. You miss my on time choo choo, you no get ride.

34 minutes in I was asked, "Can I have some strawberries to make me feel better about missing our house"

48 minutes in, I realize our oldest daughter has yet to speak as she is intensely reading a new book. I instantly realize she has achieved "most favorite daughter status" a very rare and special award. I pray quickly this will continue.

52 minutes in, gas stop. Not for gas, but for potty. Boys don't do this, had I had sons, they would have had to refill the bottle that caused the need to tinkle.

58 minutes in I became a DJ, playing songs like, "The Hand Clap" song by Fitz and the Tantrums, "Roar" by Katy Perry, "Lips are Movin" by Megan with an H, and so on and so forth.

At the end of this first hour, I knew we were going to have a wonderful trip and there would be some great memories with my girls. And while we didn't get Fleetwood Mac stuck in the 8 track, or have to pull over to kung fu breathe on the side of the road in the mountains, we got to make our own memories.

Someday I look forward to hearing my daughters tell me about their first road trip with their children if they are so blessed. If it's anything like the first half of the one I just had, it will be worth every "are we there yet"

bvd