I love animals. Ben loves animals. The kids love animals. So why have we failed so much in the pet area of our lives?? I don't know. Maybe it's because I get stressed easily. Maybe it's because I can't stand fecal matter or urine to touch any area of my house. Maybe it's because I have my hands really, really full. Maybe someday I'll have the mental strength to do the dog thing. Because I really want to. I love doggies.
Oh, did I ever tell you we got rid of Xena? This was...awhile ago. Last spring, maybe? She was peeing all over our beds. Ben had had enough and took her to the humane society. At least this time it was him, and not me that got rid of the pet. And he's a big-time cat person. But again, bodily fluids touching any part of our house...not cool with either of us.
Anywaysssss, whenever the kids bring up getting another pet, I always tell them that maybe I'll be ready to do that when Gage gets potty-trained. Which I'm beginning to think will never, ever happen. He definitely regressed when we moved. Because of me. When a woman is packing an entire house and moving it, she doesn't often have time to ask if her developmentally-delayed son needs to pee, listen to the silence of him not saying whether or not he needs to go pee, put him on the potty and him maybe or maybe not peeing, etc.
This is so funny - Gage's new sunbeams teacher came over this week to introduce herself and give him a cookie, which was really sweet. And she was sitting down with him and telling him that he needs to raise his hand if he has a question, and to fold his arms during the prayer, etc. And he's looking at her and, like, drooling. And Ben and I are thinking, "He has no ideeeeea what you're talking about..." Funny, and sad. I hope someday he'll catch up with other kiddos his age. But for now, he's just not at their level yet. I get envious of normally-developed three-year-olds that I see. I get sad. And I get scared. But we're doing all we can. And he is making progress.
Sorry. Huge tangent.
Kay, so Sadie, for weeks, was all, "I really want my own fish for Christmas." And Ben and I were all, "Yeah, we think we can do this. Not too hard. Clean their tank once a week. No biggie."
I picked out a betta fish. They're so pretty, and you only get one of them, and I felt like that would work for us.
The kids were sooo excited. They insisted on keeping the fish in their bedrooms. Sadie named hers Rosie (she knows that only the boys are the beautiful, colorful ones, but she wants us all to pretend Rosie is a girl). Micah named his Blue Star. Rosie is very, very friendly. When you come in the room, she's like, "What's up? How are you? Are you going to feed me? I'm so happy!" Blue Star is grumpy and very antisocial. He hides in his Squidword house all the time.
Ben was obsessed with these fish. He would worry if they were warm enough. He worried about any level of warmth in the water giving the water a small amount of saltiness (because we have a water softener in this house. WHICH I LOVE). So when Ben cleaned the bowls, he would fill them with cold water, then microwave the water until it came to room temperature. Not kidding. He obsessed about their food. He worried that they weren't eating well, so he got the pebble kind instead of the flake kind. He was always visiting the fish and talking to them. And staring at them wistfully.
Finally, on Christmas Eve, I said, "Ben, do you want a fish? Because we can get you one, too, you know. They're, like, $3.50." He was like, "OKAY!!" and off we went to Petco on Christmas Eve. He got another kind of betta fish - I think they're called Double Tail or something:
Ben quite happily takes on fish feeding duty and bowl-cleaning duty. He won't let anyone else do it. He's so funny.
So yeah, now we have three fish. But so far, they aren't stressing me out, which is good. Because I have a house full of unpacked stuff still stressing me out. But the kitchen is all in (except for some 9X13 inch pans that I forgot at the other house), and I've been able to cook, which is really important to me. So we're making progress.