Since becoming a mother, my life has been one series of unbelievable moments after another.
I’m sure that you’re thinking the word “unbelievable” has an exciting, magical connotation to it, right? Not even close. When I use the word “unbelievable,” it has more to do with my reluctant acceptance of having said or done things I never would have considered imaginable in my pre-kids life.
Ever since that first unbelievable moment of passing a human being the size of a watermelon from out of my hoohah, it’s been just one incredulous moment after another. From the absurdly spoken (Don’t put your Hot Wheels cars in the toaster; Twizzlers are not a food group; It’s not nice to hit your brother in the wiener) to the absurdly lived (wiping boogers from my child’s face using the inside of my shirt when no tissues could be found; trying to catch floating pieces of vomit in the YMCA swimming pool after my toddler gulped too much pool water), I’ve done and said some unbelievable things.
Motherhood does this to you. In fact, a dual purpose of childbirth is to completely break your spirit. A broken spirit is necessary so that you’re able to cope with the never-ending surprises that life holds in store for you as you attempt to raise your offspring. That broken spirit is what gives you the fortitude to change your toddler’s diaper on a bench right in the middle of the mall without even considering the “ew” factor. It’s also that same thing that allows you to step outside of your comfort zone and take incredible risks. You say to yourself, Hey, I’ve cleaned smeared-on poop off of my baby’s crib rails. No WAY can this be worse than that!
As my mother-in-law used to tell me, motherhood is definitely not for sissies.
In my almost 19 years (God help me) of child-rearing, there’s not much kid-related that I haven’t seen. I’ve fished chicken pieces and Legos out of children’s noses. I’ve dealt with choking and bleeding and barfing. I’ve washed (and dried!) pieces of crayons, chocolates, and salamanders forgotten inside jeans pockets. In fact, I’ve pretty much seen it all, done it all, and have the t-shirts to prove it. Well, all except for a molting hermit crab, that is.
For his birthday last April, my son Evan was given a hermit crab as a pet. In spite of dire warnings from the pet store employees (Now sweetie, this crab might not live very long. Don’t be sad if it doesn’t survive the night), Evan’s pet, Harry, has lived with us for almost a year. During that time, the crab has changed his shell once. I thought that shell-changing was considered molting, but evidently he just decided he wanted a bigger house like the rest of America.
One night last week as he was getting ready for bed, Evan announced excitedly that Harry was out of his shell. I rushed up to see him since I’d never seen a crab out of its shell before. Harry was completely shell-less and lying on his side in the corner of his tank. He was pale and didn’t move at all even when I attempted to mist him with some water. He looked dead. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that I’ve never seen any creature that looked deader than Harry did right then.
I’m rather lazy and didn’t exactly feel like having a burial and all of those important but time-consuming Dead Pet rituals at 10:00 at night. Who wants to dig a grave outside while it’s dark and 30 degrees? Certainly not me! Rather than confirm that Harry was indeed dead, I suggested to Evan that we leave him alone and see if he looks any different in the morning. Evan agreed and went to bed.
I managed to wiggle out of having to bury a dead pet before bedtime, but what would happen in the morning when Evan discovered that Harry is still in the exact same spot? I did not want to have to deal with a dead crab in the morning before school. Our last deceased pet (my son Matt’s anole, Cypher)was discovered on a school day morning and almost caused a grieving Matt to miss the bus. I didn’t want to go down that road again! I needed to have a plan in place so that disaster could be averted during the morning’s rush and everyone would make it to school on time.
Whenever I don’t know what to do, I Google my thoughts and fears. To me, Google is a wise oracle dispensing the antidote to total cluelessness. I’ve Googled everything from “Help! My father-in-law married a narcissist” to“how can I keep mice from dying inside my walls” to “why is my dog crazy?” No matter what I throw at it, an answer of one kind or another always comes up. Google is like asking your crazy old Aunt Francis for advice: you might need to discard two-thirds of what comes out of her mouth but eventually you’ll find a tidbit worth keeping.
I typed “Is my crab dead or molting?” into the all-knowing Google search box. An answer appeared in 0.2 seconds. Who knew that I wasn’t the first person to ask this question? According to one website, the best thing to do is to leave the crab alone. Hermit crabs actually shed their entire exoskeletons when they molt and can appear to be dead as they wait for the new exoskeleton to harden. Wow; good thing I didn’t bury him. I wonder how many people see a molting hermit crab and simply throw it out?
According to the experts, a crab will start stinking if it’s dead. If it doesn’t stink, it’s most likely molting. Unbelievable! You’d think there’d be a more scientific method for determining the state of being alive versus being dead but, hey, this is advice from the Great Powerful Google. Who am I to question its wisdom?
While Harry the Crab undergoes his hopeful metamorphosis over the next few weeks, his daily care has been reduced to spritzing him with water every day and, get this, sniffing the tank to see if he smells. Honest to God. No stink? We’re good. Stink? It’s time to dig the grave, assemble the mourners, play the weepy music, and pass around the tissues.
For the next three weeks, or until Harry starts stinking up the place, I am the Official Hermit Crab Sniffer, just one of many hats I wear as a mother.
While I’m sure that all of those years of dealing with baby poop have amply qualified me for this position, I can’t help but wonder if I can renegotiate my motherhood contract into one that’s less odoriferous.
Hmmm...Maybe I should ask Google or crazy old Aunt Francis about this...
Comments
You are a wonderful hermit crab sniffer by the way. I'm sure you did great.
(thumbified by the lady who just found a dead lizard in her purse)
Lisa ~ I don't know whether to laugh or gag!!! These are all excellent pre-breakfast references ... brb ....
bbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
xoxoxoxoxo
hey .... I think I know Crazy Aunt Francis ...
Jess - Styrofoam? Oh my! I'm afraid to ask what she was planning on keeping in there.
Jodi - Ha ha! Can you imagine? If children molted, they'd be still and quiet for three weeks. You might actually be able to finish a sentence, a meal, or a night's sleep during that time!
Mother - Sorry to get you before breakfast. But hey, you've got several kids and no doubt the strong stomach required to raise them.
OES - Are you kidding me? Anything the least bit stinky and he's already in the next county.
Mr. Mustard - 20's? Now you're really scaring me.
Diana - Thank YOU for reading. :)
Lea - These are icky moments, but I guess we'll miss them one day. The last time you suggested "Please Don't Eat the Daisies," I bought a used copy. I haven't read it yet, but from browsing through it, my motherhood adventures do seem similar.
in my aquarium for about two years. Couldn't believe how long he lived. Not much bigger than a fingernail when I got him but he grew to be about three inches. He would molt every three or four months. First time I thought he was dead because of the discarded carcass then I got used to the ritual. I found out that craw (cray) fish float AND stink when they die.
And don't think of it as breaking your spirit - it's making you stronger and more well-rounded in the most interesting ways!!!
Amen to that! Thanks for making me laugh out loud again.
And in answer to Jodi -- Back when my sister was little she came home from preschool to annouce that her classmate Johnny WAS molting. Turned out he'd had a rather expreme haircut and my sister was using the term we applied to our parakeet. It became part of our family lore.
and isn't it amazing that no matter what kind of crazy question you come up with, someone has already asked the google god? it blows me a way but i've never managed to stump it yet.
Christian - I like the image of your boys not-yet-born. I used to say that I wasn't having kids, too, and now look at me.
Michael - Ha! My husband says that of course the crab will stink; all seafood does. Crayfish are seafood, too, right?
Juli - Oh, yes, the things they do each other's hair. Has your oldest decided to give the young one a haircut yet? That's always a good time.
bluesurly - Ear test? I will definitely check out your post. I like your use of the word "interesting." It's much better than what I had in mind. :)
Faith - With your boys, I KNOW you know what I'm talking about.
Cap'n - Wow, thank you! And yes, however did we live before Google - the Keeper of All Knowledge?
Monte
Too funny – the wise oracle of Google. (Seriously, before Google, etc., what? Books and encyclopedias? Not that great and not that handy).
Around here, I’ve passed the sniffer job on to our 2-year old. He’s usually the first one to remark when the cat box is some yucky smelling, daddy.
When our baby goat died, the vet at the university told me that if I wanted an accurate autopsy, I'd have to place the goat in the refrigerator. I feel like some of life's questions must remain unanswered, especially if the pursuit of knowledge involves placing a dead farm animal next to the milk.
David - Surely you've already hit the barf-in-the-pool or the Hot-Wheels-in-the-toaster milestones. The Legos-up-the-nose is a scary one, but at least it doesn't stink as bad as the chicken-up-the-nose does (true story!) I can't wait to read of the many ways your kids torture you. :)
angrymom - A goat in the refrigerator? I agree. Some things should remain mysteries.
screamin' - Yes. I hope they remember this stuff when it's time to pick our our nursing homes.
LandP - Headless gerbils? Oh my! Thanks for showing me that things can always be worse.
If you don't catch dead crab essence as you walk in the house, it will hit you in the face long before leaning over the tank. Of course I wish Harry long life, but if he goes, is burial mandatory? What ever happened to the goldfish swish? He is a water creature, after all.
So, I buried him in a nice box out back. I hope he's not too pissed at me for burying him alive. Now I'm burdened by TREMENDOUS guilt! :-D I'm serious.
Thanks for the info for when Miles or Ella molt. Both have successfully moved into nicer neighborhoods and once we watched. They are some ugly pets I will tell you that!
Rated
and this line: "Google is like asking your crazy old Aunt Francis for advice: you might need to discard two-thirds of what comes out of her mouth but eventually you’ll find a tidbit worth keeping." that is so true, what a great way of putting it
How about the mercy flushing a sick gold fish? Mommy, how come Goldie is shaped like a U? I did it once, and felt horribly afterwards..
http://open.salon.com/blog/somyr_perry/2009/02/26/my_life_with_crabs
Rated for crabiness.
When it's dead: it no longer can control its muscles, so its entire body just limply dangles out of the shell when you pick it up.
Blue - Uh-oh...didn't mean to cause you guilt! They do look nasty and alien-like; even kind of shriveled. It's been about 10 days and Harry's actually getting pinker and plumper even though he still hasn't moved. At least now you know for Miles and Ella. :)
Julie - Thank you for getting my comparison of Google to crazy Aunt Francis. There's pearls of wisdom in there, but man, sometimes you've got to shift through a lotta stuff to find them.
Teddy - Wow! Such nice words! Thank you my friend. You've totally made me day.
TrudiJo - Of course I can remove gum off a fuzzy coat! Use an ice cube to harden the gum and then scrape it off with a dull knife.
Brie - Oh, yes...sending the goldfish to the hospital in the toilet. It breaks your heart but you have to do it. And did you EVER think you'd be feeding a snake - A SNAKE! - crickets before you had kids?
Somyr - I was hoping you'd stop by! I loved your crab piece and I have major Crabitat Envy as a result of it. In fact, I was going to message you about Harry before I found the molting info on Google. Does all of this sound right to you? He's getting pinker and starting to plump up but he's still on his side in the corner of the tank.
Pamela - Thanks for the nice compliments. :) I, too, wonder why no one adequately prepared me for motherhood. They sure as heck don't teach this stuff in Lamaze class.
These are exactly the reasons I have never had a desire to give birth. Of course, being male and queer, it was an easy decision to make...
O'Kathryn - I'm so glad to see you here. Thank you!
Noble - Aw, yes...Erma Bombeck knew these things. Thank you for stopping by.
Dr. Spud - Snake poop on a heating pad? Oh man! That just sounds nasty. Thank you for your kind words.
mamoore - Shhh! Ixnay onay theay uriedbay ermithay abcrays. Your secret is safe with me. The pet shop people really should tell their customers when they buy a hermit crab that they look dead when they molt. That's an important detail! Thank you for reading and commenting. :)
My college and graduate school experience--memories of the sudden, urgent need to find a new apartment because all the locks had been changed on the old one--informs me that the answer to this question is 5.
Great line! This post goes into my Lisa Hall of Fame. Hilarious!
As you know, I have no kids, but only last Friday I goggled "Help! My dog ate an entire tube of cocoa butter."
Btw, I'm with Lea...there's a book here.
Laurel - Thank you, my friend! I'm worried about the dog and the cocoa butter, though, and feel compelled to check out Google myself. I just have this image of, um, "everything" becoming extra lubricated by the cocoa butter (yikes!)
Brian - I'll bet your mom had her hands full with you. :)
Dustbowldiva - I'm laughing out loud at "Body Fluids R Us." Still no stink from Harry so I assume he's still among the living. Stay tuned!
newsfromthepurplehouse - So nice to see you! And you're a fellow hermit crab owner. Please tell me that they make it through these molts OK. I'm angsting a bit about whether or not he'll approve of our shell selection for his new home once he's all done molting. Hmm...Do crabs register at places such as Petco, like brides register at Macy's?
JL - Ha! Oh, yes, the old smell-my-finger routine. My kids don't use that one but they're always trying to get me to smell various things. I've learned that it's always a bad idea. Now I just say No.
http://www.kokosgoldfish.com/
http://thegab.org/Articles/Euthanasia.html
and that is the best description of google i've ever heard!
We are about to raise some type of multi-million year old creatures from the Triassic period called Triops, also called dinosaur shrimp, which is why the pre-pubescent one wanted them.
Apparently, these things are the new Sea Monkeys; the tag line is, "Hatch your own ancient creatures!" What kid wouldn't want little tiny swimming dinosaurs for their very own?
I can foresee some problems here, not the least that the pre-pubescent one has a tendency to forget to feed the creatures that he holds hostage. He also has a tendency to heap mountains of clothes, papers and toys in his room, necessitating What are ancient dinosaurs going to smell like when they die, then rot in their stagnant aquarium? I already know what dead salamanders, frogs, toads, moths, butterflies, earthworms, caterpillars and baby jellybean mice smell like. (Thanks to our cat, who has a a serious digestive issue, I also know what regurgitated dead bats, squirrels, chipmunks, baby birds, bats, voles, and moles smell like. Their heads, anyway.)
These things are picky. They need special water to hatch and swim around in. After six and a half visits to the local Wal-Mart, one Shop-Vac of the carpet in the new-to-us Durango, three tantrums, two groundings and one serious discussion between adults ("Honey, we talked about NOT DRINKING THE DAMN DINOSAUR WATER!"), the pre-pubescent one asks at least once a week about hatching the dinosaurs. I figure that's how often he'll remember to feed them. It's probably also how long I have before I have to Google, "how do i doctor filthy starving mostly dead dinosaurs ".
Well, it won't be the strangest thing I've ever Googled. Maybe we need an Open Call.
;)
Melinda - A kindred spirit! Thank you for stopping by.
sickofstupid - Your comment is worthy of its own post. You had me laughing out loud as I read it. My middle son did the Triops too. They're like brine shrimp (remember Amazing Sea Monkeys?) They did OK and lived way longer than I expected until he got bored with them and allowed their water to evaporate (not a good thing to do.) I might sniff hermit crabs but I draw the line at keeping what is really fish food alive.
Thanks for the early morning chuckle!
Plus, a woman once told me the best wisdom about motherhood I have ever heard: Motherhood is the one job you are guaranteed, no matter what you do, to fuck up.
Avatar - Yeah, this one has quite a bit of "ewww" in it, but I appreciate you reading it anyway. :)