There comes a time in every parent’s life when their child comes home from the local carnival and exclaims the four words they dread to hear:

“I won a fish!”

“NOOOOOOO!!!” your internal voice screams.

Thus, we came upon a night a couple of weeks ago when Franny came home with not one, but two, goldfish.  She was sheepishly holding one in each hand, their little orange fins swimming away in the requisite plastic bags carnival goldfish are prone to be delivered in.

“I tried to give one to Olivia but she didn’t want it.”

“What about the other girls?  Did you ask Bryn? Susie?  Did you offer it to Sadie? Surely one of them wanted a new fish!”

“Nope. No one wanted one.”

Impossible. What 11-year-old girl doesn’t want a fish?  What seemed more likely was that their parents had been more clear about carnival rules than I had been:  1) Answer your phone when I text you. 2) The $20 I gave you is for lunch. Do not spend $5 on ice cream, $6 on a frappuccino, and $6 on games where you might possibly win a fish. 3) DON’T BRING HOME ANY FISH.

Not that I have any experience with that exact scenario.

“What should I name them?” she said.

“You are not allowed to name them until tomorrow. They need to prove they can stay alive for 24 hours before they get a name.”

Side Note:

My only experience with carnival fish happened several years ago when Franny was a toddler.  We won a goldfish at the local fest and placed it in a small fishbowl in her bedroom.  The next morning I awoke wondering where the awful stench in my house was coming from. After searching around I traced it back to the fish. How could such a small thing create such a stink? I cleaned the fishbowl that was now murky and cloudy.  Within hours the house had a foul odor again.   I cleaned the tank AGAIN.  It didn’t work. On day three I did nothing and let the fish die in its own filth.

Back to Tim and Alfred.  Oh, yes, they lived 24 hours.

We pulled out the old fish bowl, let the water adjust to room temperature and put them in their new home.   They seemed happy and vibrant, and on day two when I saw they were still alive, I decided to invest in fish food.

Unfortunately, it was time to clean the tank already.  I told Franny she was getting a tutorial, as cleaning a fish bowl every two days was not my idea of summer fun.  We placed both the fish in the same Solo cup and set it on the bathroom counter while we cleaned the bowl.  All we needed to do now was wait again for the water temps to adjust to each other. (Believe me, this part is important.  If you place the fish back in the bowl too soon and the water is colder or warmer than they are used to, they will die. Trust me.)

At this point, Ted was home, so things were done with more attention to sanitation than they normally would be. He was following me around making sure I didn’t use one of our drinking glasses, insisting I use a fish net, spraying down every surface I touched, and warning me not to put the two fish in the same Solo cup.  Ted’s concern about the tight quarters seemed a bit dramatic.

“It will be fine,” I said as I walked away.

An hour later I went to check on the water.  AN HOUR LATER.

Oh, the water was room temperature all right. Also, Timmy was on the floor next to the toilet.

Holy Hell.  “AHHHHH!!!!” I screamed.

I have no idea how long he was down there.  Or how he got there.  Somewhere between right after I left the bathroom and ONE HOUR.  So many questions flooded my brain. Was he alive?  Was he breathing? Do fish breathe? Did Alfred push him out?  Did he jump to his death?  Was he trying to get to the toilet?  DO all drains lead to the ocean??

In a panic, I scooped him up with my fingers and threw him back into the fishbowl. We watched. And we watched.  He floated lifelessly on his side. And then…and then…his mouth started moving.  HE WAS ALIVE!!

Except was he? He was opening his mouth and closing it, but he wasn’t exactly swimming.  He was kind of just floating.  We waited.  I prodded him with my finger.  He lurched and then went back to floating on his side.   Oh no…was this going to be a repeat of when a certain toddler dropped our guinea pig years ago?  First shock, and then a slow, theatrical death involving spasms and twitches?

After a few minutes, he began to swim slowly, but still on his side, only using one fin. Maybe he just had a broken fin. An image of Nemo popped into my head.  Could a fish live by using just one fin and only swimming diagonally?  I prodded him again. He moved to the side of the bowl and started rotating the way an alligator would if he was trying to kill his prey, his nose in the corner spinning in circles.  He’d gone mad.  I could only hope he would be able to maintain a healthy weight with the constant spinning while eating for the rest of his life.

By morning he was normal again. Although I can’t say Ted was. He insisted from then on we put them in separate cups while we cleaned the bowl.  He felt certain Alfred pushed Timmy out due to cramped space. I insisted we also put the dog away during the cleaning process.  I could not guarantee that Athena was not, in fact, a pescatarian and wondered if maybe we just got lucky the first time.

Five days later, in a surprising turn of events, Alfred died. (It appeared to be of natural causes with no foul play suspected.  Except for the fact that it happened while Ted was the only one home. Still, the kids and I made the executive decision to close the case.)  The day after that, we found Timmy laying on the bottom of the bowl.  It was obvious he died of a broken heart.

I wish I could have come up with a heartfelt send-off for them, but quite frankly, I didn’t have much to work with.

RIP Alfred and Timmy. We hardly knew ya.

Legend has it that when I was born my dad said “Another girl??,” promptly got up, and went to the racetrack. Or maybe he was at the racetrack WHILE I was born. That actually seems more likely. At any rate, the story continues that while there, he bet on a horse named Salamantha. The horse won and I was consequently named Samantha, with the nickname Sal. In fact, Sal was the only thing my dad ever called me. It’s not often I admit that I was named after a horse.

My dad also made a bunch of stuff up so who really knows if this is even true. He was a great storyteller. An embellisher. He had a quick, biting, wit. Usually at the expense of others. (And yes, I am not immune to the obvious.)

He was funny. Once, while he was taking an experimental cancer treatment drug made from shark cartilage, he started telling everyone he could suddenly breathe underwater. When he had his gall stones removed he had them made into a paperweight. He would eat hot peppers and force you to feel his bald spot to see if it was sweaty.

He had an incredibly deep voice. The kind of voice that would scare my friends who came over for a sleepover when he asked them if they had a quarter to take the bus home.

He was also scary. The kind of scary where, let’s say you were hiding around a corner to scare your brother but when you jumped out and yelled “ROAR” and it was him instead, you might run for your life out of fear.

And if I’m being honest, for many years, he was pretty uninvolved. He would come home from work, watch tv, eat dinner without conversing much, and go to bed. There was an unspoken tension and anxiety when he was around. He was not what you would consider approachable to his kids.

And then my mom died. And he rose to the occasion. He changed. He softened. He became affectionate. Involved. Interested. If you needed him he would stop what he was doing and really listen. It was the opposite side of the coin to her death. There was an opportunity to get close to us. A responsibility.

Yesterday marked 20 years he has been gone. I hardly remember any of those early years when he was stiff and distant. When I think of him I see him laughing with us. At Chris coming over fresh from her visit to Target, showing him all the deals she got. At me when I’m dancing in front of the television trying to get a reaction from him. All five of us together reminiscing and telling stories about my mom.

The day before he died he told me he wished he would have been able to see the babies I was going to have someday. When I think of that it still shatters me. So I make sure to share with Teddy and Franny memories about their Papou, and hope they will know him through pictures and stories. Because even if he can’t know my babies, they will know him.

Once I had kids, I stopped watching television.  There simply wasn’t time. But recently we decided to revamp all of our tech at home and get rid of cable.  We settled on DirecTV and Netflix.  Suddenly, I have become a TV junkie, binge-watching new shows like The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and discovering old shows like The Office.  I finally feel like I can contribute to conversations that involve discussions about something other than Dude Perfect and Girl Meets World.

However, there is one show I have never seen.  Some of you may have heard of it.  It’s called Game of Thrones.  It just finished its last season and it’s all I’ve been hearing about for the past few weeks.  Apparently, die-hard fans were conflicted on how the show was wrapping up.  I have never seen an episode.  Although I do have an interest in fantasy-based TV shows, GoT just never seemed that compelling to me.  And at this point, I’m not sure I have the dedication to go back and watch eight seasons worth of complicated storylines and characters with unusual names dying every episode.  Besides, I don’t have HBO.

But last week my brother texted me and asked me if I had seen the most recent episode. (Second to the last one).  Below you’ll find the text of our conversation.  I mean, you have to be pretty worked up to complain this much to someone who doesn’t even watch the show.  Please excuse his language.  He was very upset.

So I decided to watch the final episode to see what all the fuss is about.

The first thing I did was subscribe to a one-week trial of HBO. There’s no way I’m going to start paying for a new channel just to see the last episode of Game of Thrones.  I’m sure I’m not the only who has “tried out” a new channel just to see a show or two and then cancel.

Sunday night arrived and I settled in on the couch to watch.  The kids were off doing their own thing and Ted went to bed early because he didn’t feel good.  Apparently, no one told him if you eat a whole bag of salty sunflower seeds over the weekend there is a good chance you will get a swollen tongue and sores in your mouth.

The first thing I see is the guy from Elf.  Elf guy is walking around a city that has been destroyed.  He’s digging around in the rubble looking for something.  He comes across a couple who died while hugging à la those two old people in Titanic.  It’s clear they are important to him and he is sad.  I wonder about the back story of the guy from Elf.  Is he a mystical creature or is he just a regular little person?  Do they have a little people in this world?

Next scene: Jon Snow is heading to a castle.  I know him because everyone knows him whether you watch the show or not and also he was on SNL.  At this point I text my brother a single sentence: “So far this is dumb.”  I guess it’s just a bit more slow-moving than what I was expecting considering the hype.

Right after I type that some sort of flying dragon screeches through the sky and scares the crap out of me.

Okay, now we are getting somewhere. The queen is on screen and she’s an angry queen.  She speaking Elvish maybe and I have no idea what she is talking about even with the subtitles.  This is also the first time I hear about “breaking the wheel.”  I hear this phrase many times throughout the episode and unfortunately never figure out if it is a euphemism for something or if there is an ACTUAL wheel that has to be broken.

Suddenly Ted comes out of his slumber to join me.  He watches for five minutes and then leaves, stating, “I’ve seen this before. When it was called Lord of the Rings.”

Back to the show.  The guy from Elf rips off his golden-hand badge in fury, I assume symbolizing he has quit the evil-queen club.  The bad guys take him away.  And I’m pretty sure Miles Finch is headed toward his death.

HOLY HELL!!!  THE CABLE GOES OUT!!

Ok.  It was only a minute or so and I didn’t miss anything important. Other than the first eight seasons. HAHA.

So now I’m having two thoughts at once. First, maybe I should stop watching NOW and go back eight seasons. I’m getting kind of into this.  But can I get through them all in the six days left of my HBO trial?  I doubt it.  Second, maybe I should keep HBO.  They have some pretty good shows. This is how they suck you in. This free trial week is no joke.  These cable guys know what they’re doing.

So now Jon Snow kisses the queen and….what…is she dead??  Ok, so I had to back that scene up as I thought maybe it was a poisoned kiss and I didn’t realize he stabbed her. Too many Disney movies I guess.  The queen is dead and somehow the dragon is subconsciously alerted to this and it looks like Jon Snow is going to be toast.  Literally.  But, no.  Instead, it’s bye bye Iron Throne.

SIDE NOTE: As I am watching, I do have to wonder how there is an imbalance of power when one person has a dragon.   I mean, couldn’t this whole show have ended in season one if you just had your dragon burn down all your enemies?

Anyway, now is the time for the elders to decide the fate of Middle Earth and I guess they decide that democracy is not going to happen.  Somehow after eight seasons and tons of battles, they all easily agree that a KID IN A WHEELCHAIR with NO DRAGON is going to be the ruler.  But the Iron Throne is gone so I guess the homemade wooden wheelchair will have to do.  Jon Snow is banished. The girl with the eyebrows is going all Ponce de León on us.  And the last girl is going off to marry Joe Jonas.

It ends with a lady filling in her 23 and Me scrapbook and a big meeting where everyone decides on their jobs pretty easily: Master of Whisperers. Master of Laws. I’m pretty sure if I were there I’d like to be Master of Cheese.

Jon Snow goes home to Hoth and sees his one-eared wolf and they head to who knows where.

My overall assessment: I could see how people would get into the show. But in the end, the throne was melted, the kid in the wheelchair is King, and I still don’t know if they broke the wheel.

Continue reading →

*This is a reprint of a Facebook post I wrote two years ago.* 

When I was three years old I drank a bunch of Tang and then ate some oranges and threw up all over our blue corduroy couch. I remember specifically calling for my mom AND sister, “Mommy! Melissa !! I just threw up!!”

I don’t actually remember what happened next, but there is good chance Melissa was the one who got there first.

She was eight. And she wasn’t even my oldest sister. (And yes, I know Chris isn’t here to defend herself; but if she were, I feel comfortable that even she would agree she was NOT the one you called for during a vomit emergency).

This is what my dry erase board looks like during a typical month. As you can see, we have a lot going on.  On any given day I am cook, maid, dog walker, scheduler, chauffeur, mediator, accountant, teacher, therapist, and occasionally these days, verbal punching bag. And though I don’t work a job outside the home, I do find myself constantly busy. So what exactly do I DO all day???

7:36am: Jump out of bed startled and panicked. Realize you have been hitting the snooze for half an hour.  Throw on work out clothes.

Give dog a treat and let her outside.  Yell for kids to come downstairs.  Yell for kids to turn off devices as they know they are not supposed to be on devices in the morning.  Watch kids walk downstairs with devices four inches from face.  Yell again.  Make lunches.

Ask youngest if she wants breakfast even though you know she will refuse because she is not a breakfast eater unless there are donuts or pop-tarts or cinnamon toast crunch in which case she IS a breakfast eater.  Ask her if she brushed her teeth. Ask her again. Watch her go upstairs to brush her teeth.

Tell older child three times that he has baseball practice tonight but be prepared that he will later insist you did not tell him. Wonder about his acne and why it isn’t clearing up. Make mental note to browse online later for new skin-care system for him.

8:05am: Get kids in car.  Watch dog as she looks at you at the door expectantly, asking “Am I coming or am I staying?” Decide if you are going to the gym or not.  Yes, she can come.  Her feeling loved is more important than your exercise. You will work out later.  Know deep in your heart or maybe not so deep you are not going to go work out in the afternoon.  Stay in workout clothes anyway to make yourself feel like there is the option you might.

Drop kids off at school. Yell “I love you!” to oldest as he walks away disinterested (his near-constant mood).  Yell “Make good choices!” to youngest as she hops out of car full of energy. Realize it is 31 degrees out and neither child has on a coat.

Go back home. Consider taking a nap.  Resist.  Unload dishwasher.  Wonder why there are so many forks and hardly any spoons.  Wonder where all the spoons have gone in the last 20 years and how can you lose 17 spoons but still have all your forks?  Retrieve all the dishes and glasses that are upstairs and in bedrooms and bring them to the kitchen.  Wonder if you should install a dumb-waiter.

Get a snack. Let the dog out. Let the dog in.  Let dog out. Tell dog it’s raining and she won’t want to go out. Watch her go out anyway. Watch her walk right back inside. Wonder how she will forget this again in a few minutes. Consider a doggie door but remember when you had one before, your old dog brought in a giant dead bird and laid it on your bed. Decide against a doggie door.

Throw a load of laundry in.  Wonder how there is so much laundry after one day. Wonder why kids can’t wear pajamas more than once.  Wonder how many clothes just fell off hangers and were thrown in the laundry so they didn’t have to be hung up again.  Smell hoodies to make sure they have actually been worn.

Check emails. Answer texts. Get into long discussion via text with brother about which one of us would be Hall and which one of us would be Oates. Have conversation AS IF we are Hall and Oates. Crack ourselves up.  Realize no else would think this is funny but us. Pet dog for a while so she leaves you alone.

10:00am: Walk past mud room and wonder if you should wash winter coats and put them away for the season. Know that the moment you wash them it will snow.  Walk past big mess of games and puzzles in office and start to organize them.  Take some things to the basement.  Discover it is a mess and start to straighten it.  Notice rack of CD’s.  Laugh at the fact you still have a WHAM! CD.  Try to remember why you are in the basement.  Wonder how the last hour disappeared when all you wanted to do is put some games and puzzles away in the office.  Make dog Kong so she will stop bugging you.

11:00am; Admit you are not going to work out after all.  Consider whether you should shower.  Assess what you are doing the rest of the day and if you are going to see anyone outside of family and kids in carpool.  Decide there is a good chance you will run into someone at Jewel.  Give in and take shower.

Look at the clock.  It’s already 11:30am.  Ask yourself what you have done the past three hours.  Answer more texts.  Put phone down and tell self not to answer anything that isn’t an emergency.  Think about what to make for dinner.  Decide that if you had a choice between a chef and a maid you would pick a chef.  Silently proclaim to no one that thinking about what to make for dinner is the worst part of being a mom.  Eat lunch of cheese stick, apple and pretzels.

12:00: Take dog for a walk.  Start listening to a podcast.  Realize after ten minutes you haven’t heard anything on your podcast because you have been distracted about all the things you have to do.  Start podcast over.  Realize 25 minutes in you have already heard this one but it took you that long to notice.

1:00pm: Transfer laundry. Sit down to write blog.  Get some good work in between telling dog “No!” as she continues to paw you.  Tell her you have already taken her on a ride, given her multiple treats, taken her for a walk, and played with her.  Wait for her acknowledgement.  Get dog nail clipper out as last resort and show it to her every time she bugs you.  Watch her run away.

2:00pm: Look online for dress for daughter for church.  Follow her conditions by eliminating anything with glitter, bright colors, spaghetti straps, sequins, florals, and ruffles.  Settle on sweatshirt dress.

2:50pm Pick up daughter from school.  Pretend to be interested in her stories about recess.  Drop her off at home and go straight to pick up son 20 minutes early because you already need a break from her non-stop talking.  Brace for him to ask  “What’s for dinner?” as soon as he gets in the car.  Say “I don’t know” because A) You don’t and  B) As soon as you tell him what IS for dinner unless you say Pizza or Culver’s he will complain.

Wonder about how different it is that when you are in the car with your daughter she WILL NOT STOP TALKING and all you want is some peace but when you are in the car with your son he says nothing as you try desperately to connect with him.

Drop him off at home and go get something for dinner at the grocery store.  See nobody you know.  Get irritated you wasted a shower on no one. Get home and step over backpacks and jackets and hoodies and cleats and shoes to get through mud room that has built-in lockers and hooks that seem to be underutilized. Bring dirty dishes and yogurt containers and plastic bottles from various places around the house that have appeared in the 20 minutes you have been at the grocery store.

4:15pm-7:00pm: DRIVING AROUND THE CITY OF DOWNERS GROVE BEGINS!!

Decide whether to make dinner before sports and eat in shifts starting at 4pm or after you get home and everyone eats together at 7:45 but then goes straight to bed on a full stomach.

Pick up girls six loud girls, aged 8-13, from soccer. Watch as they tumble into the car with their soccer bags, water bottles and cleats.  Mediate over who gets to sit in the front and decide on a rotating system.  Make sure everyone is in the car and you aren’t missing anyone (only happened once). Drive slowly and carefully so you don’t get stopped by the police (only happened once). Drop off girls one by one and make sure everyone gets in respective houses safely.  Go home.

6:30pm: Do internal happy dance because you are in for the night.  You can finally relax.  You can have a glass of wine.  YOU CAN TAKE OFF YOUR BRA!! Know that now that your bra is off you are in for the night and nothing will make you leave again except maybe a house fire. Eat dinner.

8:00: Tell daughter it’s time to get ready for bed. Argue with her about how she is the only person she knows who goes to bed at 8 o’clock and she should go to bed later and watch her meltdown while making your exact point that she needs to go to bed early in order to function. Put her to bed.

9:00pm. Watch The Crown. Decide you definitely should have been a queen or at least a princess and brood about it for a while. Wish for servants and designer clothes and summer home in Scotland.  Realize the closest you will get is Nordstrom Rack, a cleaning lady, and the water park in The Dells.

10:00pm. Get in bed and obsess over the next day’s activities. Push snoring husband on his side. Nudge dog so she will stop licking herself. Repeat until you fall asleep.

Above: Athena Trying to get my attention.

Below: Screenshot of my conversation with my brother and insight into our sense of humor.