Cooking Failures

Tag: books

  • Neighborhood Yard Sales

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    Everybody loves a neighborhood yard sale. People pull out all of their once-loved items and display them on the front lawn hoping someone will pay a dollar for them. How could items that once were so loved and needed now be discarded and worth practically nothing? It’s kind of sad if you think about it. I guess it’s a bit like relationships sometimes. People you once loved and needed are now discarded and worth barely anything to you.

    Is there anything more awkward than walking up someone’s driveway and looking at all of their junk? What happens if you decide it’s all just junk to you also?  Do you just turn around and walk away? You almost feel obligated to buy something, so you won’t hurt their feelings. “Oh! Look at these shin guards! Just what I needed! I’m a klutz and I’m always bumping into things and bruising my shins.  Are they kids’ size? Perfect! I have really small shins. How much are they?”

    I come back from yard sales with so much junk just because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. And then I go turn around and sell it at the next neighborhood yard sale and hope those people don’t come to my house.

    And what is the proper protocol when you are walking up someone’s driveway and they’re sitting there in their camping chair staring at you?  Do you smile? Do you make chitchat? Do you talk about the weather? Do you say, “Wow, it all looks lovely!” And then not buy anything? They will know you are lying!

    Also, I always think, “Am I walking funny?” I try to walk all tall like I’m a model on a catwalk or something. “Walk normal,” I tell myself.  I don’t want them to say, “Why is that girl walking funny?” Then I’ll be known as the girl who walks funny and doesn’t buy anything. Is anyone else self-conscious about the way they walk or is it only me?

    It’s also pretty awkward having people walk up and look at your stuff. “What do you mean you don’t want that old used bib? My son spit up on it over 432 times. You know what!? This bib is too good for you! It’s not for sale anymore!”

    And then I hug the bib to my chest and start crying and feeling nostalgic. That will really make people avoid my house.

    But does it make you feel bad about yourself when they walk away and they don’t buy anything? I’m torn between saying “Don’t worry! I won’t be offended if you don’t buy anything!” and, “How dare you not want this wooden train with a missing wheel?!”

    Is what people sell a reflection of them? Can people figure out who I am by looking at all the things I consider junk? Do my discarded items tell a story of my life? And is it one I want everybody to know?

    I have never taken part in the neighborhood yard sale because it seems super daunting and overwhelming. How do I know how much to charge? How can I see something I once loved being sold for 50 cents?  It seems like it must be worth more than that. Is the point of a yard sale to get rid of stuff or to make money?

    Do you have to put a price on every single thing? Do you have to buy those little stickers from the dollar store and write prices on them? Do you group them by items? By price? I don’t want to yard sale wrong! Is there a class for this somewhere I can take? 

    Luckily, I have a friend who is really good at yard sales, and she gave me some good advice and made me feel like I can conquer this task of taking part in the neighborhood yard sale.

    We moved to Wilmington 13 years ago. It was a pretty quick move, and I was doing most of packing myself. Also, I had two young kids with me so I just dumped everything in these big bins and figured I would sort them out when we got to Wilmington. 

    I’m sure you can imagine how that went. Twelve years later, there were still bins in the garage that had never even been touched. My mom was always on me about sorting through those bins. But You know how life goes. And you know how listening to your mother goes. I’m kidding, I listen to my mom now. It only took 45 years.

    Well, life doesn’t always turn out as you think it will and with all the twists and turns, and a couple difficult years, I found myself divorced, back in the house, and owning it on my own… with a garage full of bins that had not been opened in 12 years. It seemed like a metaphor for starting over and cleaning out, so I decided to finally go through them. The timing coincided perfectly with the neighborhood yard sale.

    So, I slowly started going through the bins. Cleaning out the bins, cleaning out the garage, and cleaning out my life. I honestly had no idea what was in most of them.

    The first bin I opened had a box of Cheerios in it! That expired 12 years ago. I think it might’ve even been opened. What was I thinking? That they don’t have grocery stores in Wilmington? That I was going to unpack this box right away and probably figured it would be good to have some snacks handy for kids. Don’t worry, I did not sell that box of Cheerios at the yard sale. Although people like strange things. Maybe a vintage 12-year-old box of stale Cheerios could’ve sold. It was embarrassing and too much to explain so that just went in the trash.

    Another bin was full of vases! Ten beautiful vases! I didn’t know I owned vases. Who needs that many vases? Did I have a vase collection? Was I a vase collection person 12 years ago? There were some colorful ones, but they were definitely not something I needed. They went in the yard sale pile and they sold quickly. I guess people liked my vase collection.

    Another bin was full of coffee mugs. But each one of them was wrapped in one of my ex-husband’s favorite t-shirts with a funny saying on it. He loved the funny t-shirts. I guess I didn’t have packing paper, so I wrapped each coffee mug carefully in one of his favorite t-shirts.

    I assumed we would get down here and I would unpack them quickly and he could have all those t-shirts back. I wonder if he misses those t-shirts? I wonder if he even remembers them? I wonder if I should give them back? I ended up just selling them. He’s lived without them for 12 years. But also, why did we have so many coffee mugs? Who needs that many coffee mugs?

    There were bins and bins of children’s books. They have always been my weakness. I chose my favorites like the Knuffle Bunny books and all the Berenstain Bears books and put the others in a bin to sell. Even though it broke my heart. I guess there are things you love that you don’t really need. 

    There were bins of DVDs and bins of video games, but the ones that broke my heart were the bins and bins of children’s toys and games. 

    There was the big Thomas the Tank Engine collection. My older son was obsessed with Thomas, and he would never leave the house without a Thomas train in one hand and a Percy train in the other hand. Not only did I have to keep track of my wild kid when I went out in public, but I also had to keep track of a Thomas train and a Percy train. SO I needed extras.

    We would always come home from the bookstore with a new Thomas train and a new Percy train. My husband would look at me questionably and ask, “Don’t we already have a bunch of Thomas trains and Percy trains?”

    And I said, “yes, but what if we LOSE one?” Which did happen, so I feel justified here.

    There was the Star Wars collection and the Hot Wheels collection and everything I pulled out brought back heartbreaking memories of my kids being little that I could hardly stand it. I saved some things, of course, but I also knew it was time to get rid of all of that.

    My garage had been a messI was excited to clean it out and make it my own. I found a new toilet in the box in my garage. I know that you can sell these things, but I mostly just wanted to get rid of everything, clean it all out and start my life over.

    I grouped things by prices and just had a big blanket that was two dollars, a big blanket that was five dollars and so on. On the morning of the yard sale, I dragged the blankets and the items on the front lawn and waited. 

    People started showing up early. And people LOVED my stuff. I wasn’t such a stickler with the prices though so when they asked if they could give me a lower price I of course said sure because I was super excited that they liked my stuff. And also, the thought of an empty garage filled me with so much possibility.

    When I say my garage was a disaster, I mean my garage was a disaster. I didn’t get to go through it all before the yard sale because time ran out and it’s pretty much an impossible task. 

    I pictured my yard sale day with me lounging in a camping chair, making chitchat while people straggled in to look at my once-loved belongings. I even had a couple books that I planned to read during the day. But that’s not how it went.

    Things were going so quickly, and I just knew I had more stuff and more bins in my garage so I spent the day just kept going through bins and dragging stuff out and placing them on the blanket and they were pretty much sold right away.

    Who knew I could clean out my garage during the yard sale at the same time I was selling my things?

    But the day went on, and I kept dragging out more things and dragging out more things and people kept buying them and buying them and by the end of the day, my garage was empty.

    Buying is a loose term here because towards the end of the day, I was just giving everything away for free. Toys, books, DVDs, kids’ games, kids’ toys, a random new toilet, furniture, paintings, and so on.

    It was all happening so fast I didn’t get a chance to sit and look at each item and decide if I really wanted to give it away or keep it. Everything just went on the blanket. 

    At the end of the day, I had an empty garage, an empty blanket in my driveway and surprisingly an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I guess we all love our junk more than we think. I guess cleaning out and decluttering can be painful.

    As I sat there, looking at my sad, empty garage with his stained floor, I knew that he needed a new beginning, too. Even after that long, grueling day when I was exhausted and covered with sweat, I got in my car and drove myself to Home Depot. I bought the prettiest dark green paint and came home and stayed up all night long painting the floor of my garage a pretty dark green. I found some old light green paint left over from my bedroom wall and painted half of the garage walls. He looked like a brand-new garage. Brand new garage, brand new me, fresh starts for both of us.

    But all through the next year when I needed something, I would keep thinking that I have it somewhere in my garage until I remember that I sold it in my yard sale. So, I’d end up buying a new one. 

    So, when this year’s neighborhood yard sale came around, I sat this one out. I want to keep all the junk I have. I’ve even replaced some of the junk I sold. I didn’t buy a new toilet or a box of Cheerios, but I did buy 10 new Thomas the Tank Engine trains and 10 new Percy ones. You know, just in case we lose one. 

  • Bearded Dragon CPR

    I have one of those Google TVs and all of my pictures just slide across the TV. They always make me so nostalgic. How can pictures make your heart break? 

    The other day one splashed across the screen that had my son with a tiny bearded dragon on his chest. Suddenly, I felt regret and loss… and love. I’d almost forgotten about that bearded dragon. Isn’t it funny how time goes by and you forget about things that broke your heart? I guess maybe time does heal all things.

    In my refusal to get my family a dog, I agreed to every other pet under the sun, thinking it would be easier. I never realized a dog would’ve just been easier. But in addition to the fish and the cat and the hamster, we got a bearded dragon. I heard they were relatively easy to take care of but I think they’re a silly pet because you can’t cuddle them. That’s how I feel about fish also.

    Of course, everybody said they would help take care of him when we first got him. There was so much excitement at the beginning. The kids loved going to buy crickets for him and watching him eat crickets. We bought him a little outfits and we even bought a little bearded dragon leash. It was so hard getting it under his little front paws and getting him on the leash that we rarely used it.

    But as things usually go, I’m the only one left taking care of things. And he was relatively easy. If I could remember to feed him. I’m still pretty sure I killed my son’s first hamster because I forgot to feed him. The bearded dragon had one of those mats, so it was relatively easy to clean his cage, but of course I did not do it as often as I should have.

    He was still a lot of work for me and pretty stress inducing since I could never remember to feed him. Who has time in the midst of raising two little boys, working full-time and taking care of a house to remember to go buy crickets for the bearded dragon?

    I would often wake up in the middle of the night and think to myself, “When is the last time anyone fed that bearded dragon?” Meaning me. I was asking myself. No one else would feed the bearded dragon.

    I’d run downstairs at four in the morning to see what kind of fruits or vegetables I could find in the fridge. While he ate them, I promised that little bearded dragon over and over again that, the next day, I would go get him some crickets, if only he would live through the night. And what do you know? Did I keep my promise and remember to get crickets the next day? I’d like to think yes, but I’m not really so sure. 

    Why didn’t I make a list? Or write it on a Post-it note and stick it on the front door? Look at all these brilliant ideas I have after the fact! Yes yes… I realize many people make lists, and the idea is not a new one, but just humor me here. Now that I’m old and forgetful, I realize how much I love lists. You can call me a slow learner. These days I sometimes find myself getting out of bed at 3am to make a list.  

    The whole cricket thing was extremely heartbreaking. Look at these cute little guys leaping for joy all over the place. Not knowing they’re about to be hunted and killed by my bearded dragon. It depressed me every time, but I still did it. I tried making my bearded dragon a strict vegetarian, but after much Googling, I decided he really needed some crickets. The circle of life and all that stuff, but it still felt like murder to me.

    Did it get easier overtime? I think it did. Is it sort of like we become desensitized to all the evil in the world because we are so used to it? 

    And life went on like that. For years. He just became a habit and a routine in my busy life and something to stress about. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the little guy, but I barely had time to wash my hair much less time to bond with the bearded dragon.

    And then he got sick.

    He was lethargic, stopped eating, and I would often find him flipped over on his back at random times during the day. After much Googling again, I learned that it’s really dangerous when that happens. They have no diaphragm and therefore cannot breathe on their backs and it can lead to fatal suffocation. I needed to flip him back over on his belly right away when that happened. At first it happened once or twice a day but then it was happening constantly.

    I would sit vigil all night long by his cage to be there when he flipped on his back so I could flip him back over. I’d sometimes fall asleep with my cheek pressed against a glass of his cage, drool probably dripping down the glass before waking up suddenly and realizing where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. 

    He was so still I was worried he wasn’t breathing. I’d spend hours watching him carefully looking for some sign of breathing. I would poke him a few times just to make sure he was still alive. 

    I found myself researching bearded dragon CPR and believe it or not, there are videos and articles about it. Is that a real thing? Were these joke videos that I was taking seriously? Either way, it gave me great hope that I could save this little guy‘s life if he stopped breathing. I was prepared to do tiny little chest compressions and I practiced them on the hamster. The rescue breaths were the things I was nervous about. Would he bite me? I would have nightmares of doing rescue breaths too strongly and causing his whole little body to explode and his bearded dragon guts flying all over the wall as my kids came down the stairs for school.

    Also, what was my end game going to be with the bearded dragon CPR? Don’t you do it until the EMS arrive and take over? No one would be arriving to take over. Was my plan to just keep performing the CPR for the rest of my life?!? Maybe my brother would switch off with me. 

    This went on for over a week. Forget the housework, the kids, the laundry – my only priority was making sure the bearded dragon was still alive. I was so worried about him. I was so sad that I didn’t love him better. Why does it take tragedies like this for us to love right? Can’t we just get it right from the beginning?

    One day, I could barely tell if he was breathing at all and so I decided I needed to take him somewhere. I called all around, but there are very few vets that take bearded dragons. I found one exotic animal vet out near Carolina Beach. I put the little guy in a shoebox and he sat in the front seat next to me and I played songs that I thought he would like such as Puff the Magic Dragon. I spoke to him the whole way to the vet. Very encouraging things. You can do it! Hang in there! That type of thing. 

    Do bearded dragons understand English? Did he just want me to shut up so he could listen to the music? I thought maybe my voice would soothe him like a little baby inside the womb, but to be honest, he probably didn’t recognize my voice because I did not talk to him enough over the years. But there was a bond there or I wouldn’t have been so distraught. 

    By this point, I was just crying hysterically. And I didn’t stop for over a day… I was so full of sadness,, loss and regret. 

    At the vet, they took him back to do an exam and when they brought him back, they told me that he had caught a virus and it had gone to his heart and his body was just shutting down. There was nothing they could do. They said he was still alive and still breathing and asked me if I would like a few moments with him. I said yes, please. I put that little bearded dragon on my lap, and I cried and cried and cried. I hugged him against my chest (which I had never done before) and told him what a wonderful bearded dragon he was, and I apologized for all the times I forgot to feed him, and I apologized that nobody paid any attention to him most of the time. 

    The nurse kept poking her head in asking if I needed more time and I kept saying yes, and yes, and yes. Why was I all of a sudden so attached to this little guy that I walked by every day and didn’t even give a second glance too? Why don’t we just do a better job when we can? 

    The nurse eventually had to put her foot down and say it was time. One nurse pried the bearded dragon from my hands while the other one held me and I cried and snotted on her shirt. What a weirdly intimate moment at the vet.

    They offered to just dispose of him themselves for $300 or I could take him home with me.  I really did not want to bring a dead bearded dragon back home but I didn’t have an extra $300. What would I even do with it? Bury it in my yard? Let the cat finally eat it? 

    In the end they decided to just take care of it for free for me. At the moment I thought it was the kindest and sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Now I think they just wanted to get me out of there ASAP or they were afraid of what I would do with his poor dead body. I wasn’t REALLY going to feed it to my cat. But I was relieved not to have to take the dead body home. 

    I was such a mess they said they would bring my bill into the exam room and show me out the back way so I would not have to walk through the waiting room. 

    Have you ever heard of that? Was that for my benefit? Or for the people in the waiting room’s benefit? Did they think I would be embarrassed? Would I embarrass them? Do people in vet waiting rooms not expect people to be crying hysterically?  

    I paid the bill from the room and they led me out the back. It wasn’t just a hallway and a back door. It was through the staff lunchroom and down creepy dark hallways. If my life was a murder mystery this was the part where they would chloroform me and lock me in the broom closet. But my life is not a murder mystery and they just led me out to the parking lot.

    They said they would call when the footprints are ready. They made a little ornament with the bearded dragon’s paw prints in clay. They were the cutest little paws I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t I admire his cute little paws when he was alive?

    I took myself to a little roof top bar for a glass of wine to drink away my sorrows and also celebrate the sweet little bearded dragon’s life. I was still crying hysterically.

    Some guy came up and asked me if was OK. Maybe he was trying to hit on me? I told him through snot and sobs that my bearded dragon just died. He could not get away from me fast enough. I swear he tripped over a stool running away from me.

    Yes ladies, you are welcome to use my line if you are ever being hit on and you are not interested. It worked extremely well. 

    I missed the bearded dragon so much while I sat there and drank my wine. I wondered if a lot of my sadness was the feeling that I failed. I failed at keeping him alive. We always feel our failures so strongly.

    So, I ordered another glass of wine and really hoped my kids would not want to get a new pet to replace this one.

  • There is a Hamster in My Closet

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    Our dog recently passed away. It’s heartbreaking to watch your kids so upset and you will do anything to alleviate the smallest bit of heartache for them, so when my son asked for a hamster, what did we do? Against all better judgement, we ran out and got him a hamster… and all the accessories… and the largest cage around, because my sweet son was worried the cheaper cage would not be big enough. This didn’t seem like the time to point out that it’s called a hamster cage, so, obviously it’s big enough for a hamster. We got a rat cage instead. Why do rats need more room? Because of their tail?

    Oh, hamster memories. Hamsters are not my friend. This is not our first hamster. We’ve had three. The first was named Sammy G and, if I remember correctly, I think I forgot to feed him… and he died… and my oldest son found him. He was so traumatized he had to stay home from school that day. I really thought I fed him, but maybe I didn’t. Maybe he didn’t like my cooking either.

    A couple years later, my youngest wanted a hamster for his birthday. As you’ve come to realize, I cannot say no to my kids, so we went out and we got him a hamster. He named him Cupcake. Cupcake was a sweet little guy, and he would let the kids hold him and kiss him. The boys loved Cupcake, and they played with him all the time. I think they played a little too rough with him because it got to the point where Cupcake just turned grumpy. He didn’t want to be held or even touched. Those sweet little boys still tried though but he had developed a bad hamster attitude.

    There was a little latch that opened on the top of Cupcake’s cage, and I constantly reminded the kids to make sure it was closed all the way. Well, I’m sure you can guess what happened.

    One morning I sent the boys off to school, and I went about my morning chores, which did involve feeding the hamster. See? I can learn from my mistakes. Sometimes. Well, the latch was not closed, and the hamster was gone. (insert Brita’s worried face here)

    At this point, we had two dogs in our house and one cat. Two dogs that love to chase and eat little critters like a hamster. One was a hunting dog and the other a pit bull. I was sure there was no way that Cupcake could have survived being free in that house. I imagined my sweet little doggies swallowing him whole. I was so sad about Cupcake and felt like a failure of a hamster mom. Again!

    Of course I searched the whole house thoroughly while calling his name loudly. Did I honestly think that would help? He’ll be hiding somewhere and when he heard his name he would come bounding out and jump into my arms? Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

    After I searched the house, I sat each one of the pets down and questioned them. They all swore up and down and on my life that they had not seen Cupcake and had absolutely not eaten Cupcake. I kind of believed the cat because, if it was her, there would’ve been a body somewhere. Unless she had been in cahoots with one of the dogs. She kills it, he eats it, so I will never know what they were up to. Anyway, they all were very convincing, so I really had no further leads at this point.

    I completely freaked out, I called my then husband at work, and I told him we had to find a replacement. I told him we could not tell the kids that the hamster is missing and most likely eaten by one of their beloved other pets. We would have to call or go to every pet store in all of Wilmington and find a Russian dwarf hamster that looked just like Cupcake.

    You would think I would’ve learned my lesson with the pet beta fish the boys had. It kept dying and I didn’t have the heart to teach them about death yet, so we kept replacing that beta fish. Sometimes it was a slightly different color, slightly different size, but we told the boys that the food we gave him was magic, color-changing food. I think that’s actually what it’s called, but I don’t think it really changes the color that much, but the boys believed it. They had the only beta fish in the world that lived for 10 years. And even at the end, we didn’t have the heart to tell them, so we said he was at the fish hospital. Then he ended up staying there for a few more years.

    But back to Cupcake. Since we obviously did not learn our lesson, or I obviously did not learn my lesson (my then husband was not completely on board with any of these shenanigans, but he went along), I started calling pet stores. Do you know how impossibly hard it is to find a Russian dwarf hamster in Wilmington that looks exactly like Cupcake?!? First of all, we need more pet stores in Wilmington, and second of all, they all need to stock up on Russian dwarf hamsters. After hours and hours, we found one Russian dwarf hamster.

    He was half the size of Cupcake, and he had a mellow temperament, which was the opposite of Cupcake, but, beggars can’t be choosers, right? I put him in Cupcake’s cage, and then just acted like everything was normal. Whistling happily as I swept the floor and stuff.

    There was definitely some questioning.

    “Is Cupcake OK?”

    “Cupcake looks smaller.”

    “Cupcake is nice, now.”

    Those were some of the comments from my confused children, but I just brushed them all off.

     I said, “It’s fine, it’s fine. He’s lost a little weight. He’s been working out. He joined a hamster gym. Also, I had a big talk with him and he decided that life is too short to be grumpy, so he decided to be nice now.”

    They were a little skeptical, but I did a good job of convincing them and life went on as normal. Whew! I thought to myself as a high fived myself. You sure got away with that one! (sounds like famous last words, right?)

    72 hours later, I was putting my youngest son to bed. We read books in his bed together and then I would stay with him in his bed until he fell asleep. We picked our books out, and I was standing next to his bed about to get in when I felt something run over my foot! I nearly screamed but kept my composure because I didn’t want to scare my son. I was worried it was a cockroach or something like that, but I looked down and sure enough, there is original Cupcake! Looking fat and healthy and running right across the floor.

    How in the heck did he survive? He got upstairs and over to the opposite side of the house!?! He was gone 72 hours, without food or water! I acted all normal, but I watched him scurry into the corner of the room behind a dresser and a few paintings that we had been meaning to hang up.

    Of course, I couldn’t mention anything to my son, so I lay in bed with him with my eyes wide open fixed on that corner trying to make sure Cupcake didn’t escape. It seemed like that night it took him forever to fall asleep. When he finally did, I tiptoed out of the room and got a container for cupcake. I crawled back in the room with my phone flashlight and slithered around on the floor on my belly between the paintings and behind the dresser until I finally caught Cupcake!

    I immediately gave Cupcake some food, and that little hamster water bottle. I had to hold it upside down into the container because there was nowhere to attach it to the sides. Please drink, little guy. I can’t sit here all night, holding the water bottle in your container.

    I couldn’t believe that he had survived 72 hours without food or water and with predators lurking. I pictured it like he was in a video game, trying to avoid the vicious dogs and cat. I didn’t know what to do with him, so I hid him in my closet and shut the door.

    I immediately woke up my then husband.

    “Quick! Get up! I need your help!”

    I shook him awake.

    “What? What?”
    He pounces out of bed all ready to fight a burglar.

    “Come here! I’m here!”
    I dragged him to my closet and I open it.

    “There is a hamster in my closet!”
    -me

    OK.
    -then husband

    There is a hamster in my closet!!!
    -me harsher whisper

    Yes, I see that.
    -then husband

    There’s a hamster in my closet! A hamster in my closet!
    -me again with more urgency in my loud whisper

    You’ve said that.
    -then husband

    It’s Cupcake! He’s alive.
    -me

    Great!
    -then husband

    Not great! Now we have two hamsters!
    -me with desperation in my voice

    OK, not great. I’m going back to bed.
    -then husband

    What?!? No! You can’t go back to bed. There is a hamster in my closet!
    -me

    I am aware of that. But it’s four in the morning. I’m going to bed.
    -then husband

    How can you sleep when there’s a hamster in my closet?
    -me

    I can sleep just fine.
    -then husband

    Well, I can’t sleep with a hamster in my closet!
    -me

    Well, then put him in my closet.
    -then husband

    (Why do we ask men for help and advice?)

    But then there will be a hamster in your closet.
    -me

    I don’t know what to tell you. It’s the middle of the night. I have to work tomorrow. What good is it going to do if we both just sit up because there’s a hamster in your closet? How does that solve anything? I’m going to bed.
    -then husband

    I started to cry.

    Of course I was appalled! How could he sleep at a time like this? Rude!

    Looking back now it makes sense that there was really nothing to be done about it at four in the morning, but at that moment, I had to solve the hamster in my closet problem.

    I paced the floor thinking…

    Should I replace Original Cupcake? No, the boys will be even more confused that Cupcake got fat and turned mean overnight.

    Can you return a hamster?

    Can you return the wrong hamster?

    It’s fine, it’s fine, I told myself. I will just give away a hamster. There’s got to be somebody out there who wants a free hamster. I will just hop on Facebook and all the other pages I’m on and offer a free hamster. It will be great. When I wake up in the morning, there will be tons of replies of people who want this hamster. I could bring it to them when the boys are at school and the problem will be solved. I patted myself on the back for being such a genius and went to bed.

    Do you want to know how many replies I had when I woke up the next morning from people wanting a free hamster? None! Zero! Not one!

    That cannot be right. I thought my Messenger would just be flooded. Is my Facebook working? I’ll give it a couple more hours. I did post in the middle of the night and people are just waking up now and checking their Facebook so I’m sure by the afternoon there will be a list a mile long of people just begging for this free hamster. I will just have to keep him alive in my closet until then.

    I kept peeking my head in the closet when the boys weren’t looking.

    “Are you doing OK? Are you hungry? Do you want me to hold that little upside-down water bottle in there again for you for five minutes? Can I get you anything else? Hey- maybe you should write a book about surviving 72 hours with the predators in the Nicol house! Something to think about while you wait. Just hang on! I’m going to find you the best little hamster home ever!” (I think I even blew him a little kiss to show him how serious I was)

    Well, nobody wanted a free hamster. Unbelievable, right? So, after many tumultuous back-and-forth conversations with myself, I decided that I just needed to own up to what I did and tell the boys the truth. After all, won’t they just be thrilled that Cupcake is not dead? And super proud of his survival skills. We can get him on some reality survival show or something.

    “So you lied to us?” my oldest asked.

    “Well, that’s a bit of a harsh word… Something like that…. Sort of along those lines…. but I only did it because I didn’t want you guys to be sad if Cupcake was dead. But he’s not dead! Yay!” (Hands up in the air to convey my excitement, hoping it will rub off on them)

    “But, it is not OK to lie. Mommy should not have done that. Everyone makes mistakes. She will do better next time she kills a pet of yours.” OK, I only said that last part in my mind. Not out loud.

    But now, I told them they could each have a hamster. Cupcake would go back to my youngest and my oldest can have this new hamster which he immediately named Tyrone. Perfect! Cupcake and Tyrone. Maybe they will be best friends! Can two hamsters go in the same cage? Of course they can. There’s more than one hamster in those cages at the pet store, but just to be sure we called the pet store to ask.

    We were told that most likely they can get along, but sometimes hamsters just don’t get along with each other. The best thing to do was put them both in an empty bathtub together and see how they get along. Well, this sounds cute, doesn’t it?

    It wasn’t. The boys and I put these two little hamsters in the bathtub with smiles on our faces expecting some brotherly love stuff to go on. Well, it was like WW-whatever fighting (I can never remember the letters) where literally they just get completely beaten up. Cupcake went at sweet little Tyrone like he was a rabid dog who hadn’t eaten in weeks. I was literally scared to put my hand in there because I was sure I would lose a few fingers. Personally, I would’ve let them just fight to the death to save my fingers. I know it sounds cruel, but I’m really going to need those in life.

    BUT I had two innocent little boys standing next to me with eyes wide literally screaming in fear (I think I was screaming too) so I did what all good moms would do and risked my fingers and hands for my children. That might be the bravest thing I have ever done. I reached in and grabbed little Tyrone out of the bathtub. All three of us sat on the bathroom floor crying, inspecting Tyrone for injuries. It must’ve been my quick reaction, but somehow he survived unscathed. Physically. Not sure what emotional damage was caused.

    “Well! Looks like we get to go to the pet store and buy another hamster cage!”

    The boys were thrilled and had to buy every single hamster accessory, so I walked out of there after dropping $300. That is what I get for lying to my kids.

    Now I have to keep two hamsters alive and change their stinky cages regularly. Did I tell you that I never wanted hamsters? And actually, I think I’m allergic to them.