Liars...

So, the world is full of liars.

First, before you get married, they tell you that you should definitely get married. It is so great to be married, and to come home every single  day to the person you have sworn to be with for the rest of your life.

Oh sure, this isn't really a lie. There are parts of marriage that are great, but what these people are really saying is "Pay attention. Read between the lines! I just told you that you will be coming home to the same person, every single day, for the rest of your life. Quick! Run!"

I'm convinced of it.

Then, before you have kids, they tell you that you should definitely have one...or two...or five.. because kids are so much fun.

Again, there's no obvious lie in that statement. Kids are so much fun. But there is a big ol lie of omission here. BIG. As in, Kids are so much fun but....

They are so much work.
Really. You have no idea.
You will be really, really tired.
No, I mean it.
You can't even imagine how tired.
No, believe me. It's true.
You will, at some point, quite possibly be really really broke, especially if you become a one income household after you have kids.
Your social life, while not over, is forever changed. OK, maybe not forever. Just for the next thirteen years or so (unless you are lucky enough to live in one of those states that has no minimum age for when you can leave your kids alone. Oh, I'm kidding).
Those cute babies will turn into toddlers, who have an ability to trash your house unlike anything you have ever seen. Your house won't be clean again until...well, I haven't reached this part yet, so I have no idea when it will be clean again
Those sweet babies for whom you stayed up all night, went broke, gave up your social life, and allowed your home to be turned into a toy store (minus the people whose job it is to put the toys back on the shelves), those sweet babies will get bigger, and mouthier, and at times, meaner. Yes, I said meaner.

Sometimes even toward you.

Yup, its all true.

And I can't even speak to the teenage years yet.

Not that any of these things is a reason NOT to get married and have a baby, of course. I mean, look at me. Even knowing most of the above, I've stayed married and had two more kids.

I guess I just believe in full disclosure, especially since no one really did me that honor. At least, not that I remember. Not before I got married. Not before I had kids. (Not that I would have done either of those things differently, I swear). And not before we got the goldfish.

N asked for goldfish for Christmas two yrs ago. I was quick to tell her that Santa did not bring goldfish. Mainly because I had a five year old,a  two year old, a five month old, a dog, a husband, husband's new business, a house, and a job. I was quite sure there was no room for goldfish in my life.

And this Santa was quite comfortable with the fact that there would be no goldfish for Christmas. The problem, however, was that the other Santa thought goldfish were a great idea. And after he talked to some people who had them, he thought they were an even better idea. He even assured me that I wouldn't have to do a thing, because the goldfish people assured him that N could take care of them all by herself.

The goldfish people told us goldfish were great. They were easy. They involved minimal care.
Jimmy believed the goldfish people because the goldfish people were experienced goldfish owners. They were our friends. They were our neighbors. They could be trusted.

Me, I was onto them. I knew it as soon as they said "Goldfish are great, You should definitely get some. In fact, you could take ours".

Now why would someone want to get rid of such a great, easy pet that required minimal care?

I'll tell you why.

Because the goldfish people were liars.

The truth is that goldfish are easy. Compared to a dog. You don't have to walk them, or paper train them, and they don't shed in your house.

But easy is kind of a relative term.

The truth about goldfish is that, well, they die. Eventually. But not nearly as soon as you might hope think. It can apparently be quite traumatic for goldfish to adjust to a new tank, and it can be a little tricky to get the water just right, and you might even think the goldfish aren't going to survive the first few days of their new life. In fact, when they do certain things--like swim upside down, or lay on their side for long periods of time, or lay on the bottom of the tank--you may even become convinced that you are going to have to run out to find a twenty four hour fish store to buy replacement fish at two in the morning so that your five year old doesn't discover her brand new Christmas presents DEAD in the morning.

You become quite familiar with the signs of impending goldfish death, as you are often up with your infant in the middle of the night, and there is little else to do but be on goldfish death watch, as they swim upside down again--which you are pretty sure is not a good sign- and which causes you, in your hormonal and sleep deprived state, to wonder what they hell Santa was thinking, bringing such a depressing creature as a Christmas present for a five year old.

This goes on for weeks. They look better. They look worse. They start eating. They stop eating. They swim around normally. And then, they start swimming upside again, or sideways, or laying very still on the bottom of the tank for long periods of time.

But not long enough.

I mean, if you're going to die, could you just die already?!

Somehow, those original goldfish pulled through.There's no rational explanation. I don't know how one goldfish--let alone four--comes back from the brink of death. But they did. I'd like to think it was a Christmas miracle.

Over time, we learned some more about goldfish. Mainly, that "minimal care" is not the same as "no care". You still have to clean their tank, which involved emptying all of the water into buckets, and emptying all the buckets into the toilet, and filling more buckets, and refilling the tank. Also, it's generally frowned upon to flush the goldfish down the toilet with the old water. 

As this is all a little labor intensive for a five year old--way more labor intensive, in fact, than the goldfish people would have had us believe- it became a family endeavor. Remind me to tell you sometime how great family endeavors can be.

Eventually, we lost one fish, and then another several months later, but two of the original have remained, along with two additions.

Lately, one of the originals has been looking a little...sleepy. She'd lay around for a while, and wouldn't eat, and I'd think the end was near. And then she'd come back around, swimming normally, and eating, and I'd think maybe she was fine. Only to repeat the same pattern a few days later.

I found myself checking the tank several times a day, tapping the glass to see if she'd move. It was official, I was on goldfish death watch again. And though she wouldn't admit it, I noticed that N was, too.

It was like we were running our own little goldfish hospice.

Today, N came home from school and fed the fish. She couldn't find the black one. As I looked around the rocks in the tank for it, N paced. She cried. She made this little sound that should definitely be reserved only for actual people who have died, and not goldfish, and then she ran up to her room in tears.

I found the goldfish. In the corner. Almost dead. But not quite.

I broke it to N that the goldfish was quite likely going to be leaving us soon. She sobbed. And freaked out. And begged me to get rid of them.

As it turns out, my sensitive child finds goldfish too stressful. Every time she feeds them, she finds herself looking to see if one has died.

She also said she has nightmares about someone flushing them down the toilet.

Huh.

As it turns out, she and Jimmy managed to work out a deal that, for some reason I totally don't understand, they are both happy with.

He's giving her two dollars to take over ownership of the goldfish.

He's paying her to take care of the stupid ass fish that our dear friends, the Liars, convinced him to get her in the first place.

The fish will stay just where they are. Well, with the exception of the nearly dead one. She's getting a burial at sea. Assuming she ever actually dies.

In the midst of this evenings goldfish death watch, O grabbed my phone, pressed a few buttons, and dropped it on the floor. I picked it up to see that he had not only gotten online, but was "just one click away from a years subscription...

To Match.com"

Right, like I have time for that. I have kids to raise, and a house to not clean, and a husband not to say I told you so to.

Besides, I'm busy running a goldfish hospice.

On the other hand, maybe I could just fill out the part that asks what type of person I'm interested in.

Wanted: Experienced hospice worker to assist with goldfish euthanasia.

Unbelievable work environment.

Really.