Saving Raphael...

Okay, let's talk about yesterday morning before 7:30am, shall we?

So... Brad's away (which of course is the only reason this kind of thing happens) and I'm getting the kids up and going so I can get them off to camp and still make it to work on time(ish).  Their camp is in the opposite direction from our house as is my office so we have to leave at about 7:30am in order for me to get to work on time.  (Obviously Brad takes them when he's in town).  So.. I'm a tasky kind of girl and there's a schedule in my head about what has to happen when so I can get them out the door without anyone getting upset. 

I'm up and showered on time - early even. Check.  I've got the end of Thursday's stage of the Tour on (I'm completely obsessed with it) and I have enough time to watch the very end of the stage which is perfect.  Check!  Jack's working on his pool bag. Check.  Ted's sort of moving.  Check-ish.  Lunch is started. Check.  Ted is now sitting up - sort of.  Check-ish-ish.  I'm downstairs making breakfast right on schedule and Teddy calls and tells me he needs my help.  Well of course he does - he's Teddy and not always able to perform simple tasks especially first thing in the morning - like say - find underwear or a shirt.  Whatever, I head upstairs to see what's going on - I got up early so I've got even more extra time than I normally build in. 

Ted: Mom, Raphael (the little catfish in his fish tank) is stuck and is going to die. 

I look and Raphael has adhered himself to the top of the little sunken ship in the middle of the fishtank and I'm not worried at all.

Me: Ted, he's fine.  In fact when you were at camp, Daddy thought he was dead cuz he was sitting in exactly the same spot for seemingly days.  Dad was all worried he was going to have to tell you he killed Raphael.  He even went so far as to take the ship out of the tank because he was so convinced he was dead and not until he was several steps away and he saw the poor fish try to breathe did he realize he was still alive and quickly got him back in the water.  So, he's fine, I promise.  Finish getting ready.

Ted: Mom, he's really stuck.  I swear he is. 

(at this point we have a whole back and forth something like this - he's not stuck he just likes it there, no he really is stuck and won't be able to eat and will die, no he's fine I swear it, Mom I promise you he is stuck you have to help him, no I promise you he's fine.)

Finally we get to...

Ted: If he dies, it's not my fault. 

Me: He's not going to die, but if he does, you're right - it'll totally be on me.

I start to leave and my big, strong, taller than me boy bursts into tears.  OMG - okay baby, I'll push him out of the way,  you'll see.  I reach in the tank and push Raphael out of the way so he'll swim somewhere else and damned if that fucking fish isn't compleltely stuck.  I pulled and pushed and did everything I could think of to get him out of there, but he'd somehow managed to wedge himself in between the fake barnacles and the deck of the ship.  My first thought - Fuck, there goes the schedule.  My second thought - it's probably in bad taste to take pictures for a future blog post while my son is crying.  My third thought is - I really don't like having my arms up to my elbows in the fish tank - ick.

Okay... hmmm how to unstick a fish?  I will cut off the barnacle.  I go downstairs and get a pairing knife cuz it's small and start sawing.  I'm barely making a dent.  This ship is made out of industrial strength resin of some sort.  This is going to take FUCKING hours, but you know my motto - the turtle wins the race - so I just stick with it.  Of course I'm deathly afraid I'm going to slice through the end of it and filet poor Rafael and there will be blood in the water both literally and figuratively, but I don't mention this to the boys - both of whom are watching intently now.  Finally I give that up and go in search of a sharper knife.  I go through a few options discarding them as I went - too big, too unwieldy, not sharp enough, until finally I had an aha moment.  I have jewery making tools upstairs and there is a wire cutting thingy in the shape of a small pair of pliers - this should work.  I dry the arms (for the 27th time) find the tool and head back to work.  It's like surgery - I have to get it in there just so - so as not to pinch (read: cut into ribbons) the fish, but still cut off the offending barnacle.  I get it in place and squeeze it home and viola!  It snapps off and Raphael can move!!! No blood!!  I tell Teddy he's free and the poor boy bursts into more tears.  Poor guy!!! 

Okay - let's see what we can do to salvage the schedule - Run downstairs, get the boys to get their bags packed, finish lunches, finish packing my lunch, make my chai, and all the while.... my beloved dog is barking at us - please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't leave me.  All we hear, though, is barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark breathe barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark breathe barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark breathe rinse lather repeate.  Finally I can't take any more of it and I snap.

WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP (as I'm storming after the dog with my fist raised) IF YOU DON'T FUCKING STOP BARKING, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU DEAD, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME YOU LITTLE FUCKER??

I'm sort of consious of the rest of the world enough to notice my cute little 10 year old looking up at his nearly 13 year old brother with glee in his eyes as if to say - Man, I love it when mom cracks.  He was full out laughing by the time I'd finished yelling at the dog.  The dog wisely hid under the table for at least 30 seconds before he started barking again.  And my boys wisely didn't say a single word about the incident.  We headed off to camp and I was less than 10 minutes late to work.

Have a lovely day!