A Tribute to Gil the fish

A few days ago, my beloved Gil breathed his last.   Gil was the best goldfish a woman could ask for.   I am pretty sure he was seven or eight years old when he passed.    Sigh.   Such a good fish.

He started his journey as a little fish in our fairy garden in our backyard.   I had made a little tiny pond in the little tiny garden with an air pump to keep the fishies alive.   There were five in the beginning.   Five adorable, lovely fish.   They arrived sometime in June.   Everything went smoothly for awhile.   I would walk outside and hear the little bubbly noise of the water from the wittle pond which of course was so very relaxing and what every American should experience.   I was feeling great and I was feeling fine.   Gil and his friends swam happily together eating mosquito larvae and living the good life.  

One night a few days later....I discovered two of the cute little fellows had gone missing.   The kids were distraught when they found out.   We assumed a neighboring cat got hungry but in hind sight it was more likely a raccoon.   They died a violent death for sure.   We did catch some raccoon that summer but we will never know what exactly happened.   I try not to think about it very long.

The rest of the summer passed and at summers end, only Gil remained.   The weather was getting a lot colder so we decided it was time for him to move inside.   There were no fish bowls kicking around so I made a trip to WalMart to get the necessary supplies.   So many choices of colored rocks and little plastic pirates!   I settled on the blue, pink and green rocks and the standard fish bowl.  You know the kind you can carry around in elevators and to appointments and such.  I passed on the plactic pirates as being a bit to cheesy.

The adventures we had with Gill.   Sigh.   Such sweet memories of Gil on the shelf and having our very own cat Scout regularly visit for a drink of water and a cat's equivalent to TV watching, peering at Gil through the glass. They had such a great friendship. I think they did....pretty sure.....  Gil must have had incredible trust to not have heart failure after some of these visits but the cat respectfully drank the water and I never saw her reach in.  She just day dreamed about it.  

Years literally passed and Gil grew in size and stature.  He was also joined by some of the other survivors from future summers.   I couldn't bear putting Gil back outside again so his  gallon bowl housed about five other fish who joined him through the years, from what I can remember.    Eventually he and his friends got so so big it was time for them to get a new pad.  The standard fish bowl is only one gallon.   I found a square tank on Amazon which had a nice filter and pump setup and they finally had more space to move around.   I have no idea how six fish were surviving in a one gallon bowl but they did.  Ah....space.   So delicious and refreshing to see them moving about together.  

Several more years went by and they all grew in size and stature.   My brother was marveling at them all squishing in their five gallon tank and staying alive.   What goldfish could survive such a squishy environment?   He let me know that he had fifty gallon tank sitting in his backyard which he could reseal and check for leaks.   Fifty gallons!   We've traveled huge tank land before,  but decided that I would accept his offer and make room for the goldfish to move up in the world to a fish palace! Wow.  

I can be glad at heart to know that Gil spent his last few years in enough space where he could find some quiet time away from his friends.   They totally loved their new pad.   The TV screen for the cats and children was incredible.   Sigh.   I tried to remember to feed them regularly and mostly keep up with the care of the water and filters.   Such a glorious fish life.

A few weeks ago I noticed Gil was spending a bit more time resting on the bottom.   I was a bit concerned but figured it was just a coincidence he was still there most of the time.   When I put food in the tank he would still swim to the top.   Then the other night.....choke......he was laying on his side and had labored breathing.   My poor Gil!   I wasn't sure what to do as I am not a fish expert.   I couldn't take him out back with a 22 but I had to do something.   He was clearly suffering so decided to take him out and hold him in his last minutes.   Did you know fish can breathe outside the tank for a long time???!!!!!   Well they can.   He couldn't move anymore so I knew it was for the best but seriously, watching him breathing every so often and staring blankly ahead was pretty hearth wrenching.  My son was crying.    Two of the kids sat with me and we talked about all our memories of Gil through the years.  Finally Gil breathed his last.   We wrapped him in a little cloth and took him back to the fairy garden where he had lived his first summer with us.   The kids dug his grave and put him in.   My son placed a rock over where he was buried and we will always remember him when we occasionally make it down to the fairy garden for some weeding.  

 He lived at least seven years and I wouldn't trade them for anything.   I still look for Gil in the tank.   Nothing will ever be the same in that tank without him.   Goodbye Gil!   You were the best!

The New Normal

I think I am learning more and more about taking one hour at a time and not to have huge expectations.    Okay........I probably won't learn it well, and will still be impatient and feeling a bit unglued but I am certainly experiencing a lot of new and different things these days.

The whole year has been a whirlwind so far.   It will be Christmas soon I think.   A few months were spent intensely helping to take care of my in-laws, changing their living arrangements for the better and.....running the road to doctor appointments.   I can honestly say that running the road is not my favorite thing to do and some days I want to go to my room and lock the door.   The rest of my days have been occupied with attempting to pay attention to my children and the husband person, slowly planning a wedding for daughter dear, and helping with syrup and digging in the dirt to improve our yard.   

I am currently traveling home from my cousin's funeral.   Ugh.   It was very hard to see the faces and pain in the eyes of his parents and family.   My aunt suffered a stroke a few years ago and her mind is confused with losing her baby of course.   Ouch.   I knew she would be remembering cousin's childhood as all three of her kids were a handful but endearing in a crazy sort of way.   I think a crazy fun loving view of life was their culture growing up.   The visitation was confusing for her as all she wanted to do was talk to her boy and the rules told her to move to the side and then be more confused by many people who she didn't really know, who knew Chris.    My mommy heart hurt for her.    His dad was his usual self of gentle, quiet reserve and looking bewildered in other ways.   I admired his brain and insight as a kid so it was good to have a chance to talk with him. 

I do hope to be home and stay home as much as possible in the weeks to come.   We do have Anna's Senior recital in a little over a week in Bloomington and then the wedding of course, but I miss being able to stay put at home, wake up to the little people, play in the yard, go to the pool and just be.   The kids need me and I need them.  There are still some doc appointments in my future (yay) but will try to stick like glue to my family.    I need to stare into their eyes while I can and see how they are and what they are about.   

Child discipline

It is becoming more and more clear to me that many parenting books and people seem to employ a strong level of *control* as a first choice of relating to children.   I can not recall reading much about what goes on the other side in the minds of the children.   I have a tendency to stare at my little people and big people's faces more and more and ponder how they too have emotions and feelings which are real and important.   A person I know was talking about how he thought yelling was an effective way to get a child to listen.   I remember being a child.   I had several teachers who yelled at me  hard and long till I shook uncontrollably  and cried most of the rest of those days.   Yelling.   I never received an apology as you know they were adults and I was only a child who frustrated them apparently.   Just as I remember the yelling so do children who are on the receiving end now.    If adults yelled at each other in the same way I was yelled at then in a public sector, I would imagine they might be looked down on or fired or something.   I am not even sure but I do know that it would certainly shock people.   The yelling which goes on behind closed doors is equally painful to a child and of course to adults who experience the same yelling.  Too much yelling.   I only mention all of this as crying and shaking is the reaction to yelling.   Whether it is outward crying and shaking or inward.   THAT is what a child experiences when yelled at.   

I am not sure what I am really driving at as this has become rambling but seriously, endorsing yelling or control means as a  method to *make* children do what they wish them to do is just disturbing.   Endorsing cheerfulness, willing helpers, talking to children as if they are people (cough, cough), modeling this to children through our own behavior, these are all ways to connect with another person known children.  

My favorite times are just working with my kids on some regular task like sweeping a room or hunting dust bunnies on the ceiling, or doing something more interesting like planting the garden (fun) and exchanging chatter with my excited little ones in the process.   Love motivates.   Love and concern for our neighbor is THE answer.   Yelling tears down and destroys relationships. Controlling chilren and not listening to them certainly does not help either.  Yelling kills really.   Children love to be talked WITH and not at.   Listen to those little ones and all the children who are not so little anymore.  

Sadness to me is the days I can't squeeze in some reading time with my kids.   Reading and talking to my kiddos.   Love your children and your family and friends.   It is a very awesome things.  

Biking ha ha

I finally took the plunge and got some biking shoes and clips for my bike.   Sweet relief.    The guy at the store gave Erik and I the whole run down on how to use them and described what it would look like to fall off.   (Erik actually used some of his money to buy himself a bike which fits his tall self).   I of course thought to myself, nah, that couldn't possibly happen to me.  

The first day available I took off and figured out how to get my shoes in the clips and YES, they are awesome.   It is so much easier to bike and use all the muscles etc to burn up the road - ha ha.   Having gotten through the first four miles, I neglected to test out getting out of the clips and was forced to come to a stop by one of those annoying cars at a cross way.   First try with my right foot and my foot did not come out.   Second try with the left foot and I was already headed down to pavement land.   Meeting the pavement I just started laughing my head off.   I am sure I looked pretty looney with my feet stuck on my pedals and laughing on the ground.  

Learned my lesson, got back on the 'horse' and took less pains to figure out how to get out of the pedals.   Slow prideful learner am I. 

This is going to hurt

Potential pain stared me in the face three times on the same stretch of road whilst out biking the last few days.   Earlier this week  I was zipping along and my least favorite surprise happened.   A dog with the fiercest growl came out of no where and got too close for comfort.    Fear of dogs....um....yep.  My mind went quickly to "this is going to hurt"  Fortunately the dog was only bluffing and my heart probably triple timed up that hill.  

The next day it had snowed the night before and all the roads were clear....except the growling dog road.   The growling dog did happen to make another appearance but I stayed calm and cool and didn't even give it credit for it's fierce growl..  Poor thing.  Growling wasted.   Anyway.....it suddenly got a bit more challenging to stay upright.   Snow.   Lots of it.  I slipped and slid my way up the hill on a not very melted snowy road.   Weeellllll.....what goes up, usually comes down.   On the other side of the hill the snow was much less cooperative.   I had a death grip on the handle bars and carefully searched for dry pavement.   That patch was a LONG way off.   "This is going to hurt" was very actively tripping through my head this time.   More like...."this going to hurt, this is going to hurt, this is going to hurt" sort of to the rhythm  of  "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can".    FINALLY reached the patch of pavement and FINALLY exhaled and was able to relax a bit grateful for my helmet and extra clothing even though I escaped  pain and also was thinking  of how stupid I was to attempt that hill with that much snow on the ground.   I am easily tempted when it comes to hills.  

The VERY next day, with nice clear roads, I.....succumbed to the growling, slipping, sliding road again.   What could go wrong today???  Right???   I might need to change my route.   I got to the top of the second hill and looked over at the same property I have passed day after day and noticed a big boxer like dog galloping down the drive way.  A few words came to mind....."This is going to...." amongst other words.    I had never seen THIS dog and it stopped halfway down the long driveway.  Phew.   You guessed it.   It changed its mind and started sprinting and barking fiercely at the stupid biker woman.    I was just waiting for it to take a hunk out of my leg.  "This is going to hurt"  (common theme on this road)  but fortunately the thing stopped its pursuit of the stupid me and went back home.   Deep breath.   Lots of them.   Have I mentioned I am scared of dogs????

I spent the rest of my ride home contemplating a new route.   We shall see if I am stupid....tomorrow.