Othewise known as “I’ve Turned Into My Mother.”
I’ve spent the last thirty minutes sifting through a large plastic container of those little rounded glass rocks to collect a group of clear, light blue, blue, light green, green, turqouise, and a few accent rocks of amber for my new baby. He’s a quiet little guy, who amicably goes about his day without many worries (unlike me). His name is Antony, and he’s the best fucking goldfish the world has ever seen. With that responsibility comes great burden for me, which is why I am officially a Jewish mother.
His bris will be next Friday, you all are invited.
I went to the local Italian festival a few days ago, where after gorging on delicious sausage (no pun intended… and now pun intended), I meandered through the carnvial rides to happen upon one of those games that requires hand-eye coordination that I do not have (which is why I will NEVER become a surgeon). Their big deal was if you purchased 30 ping pong balls worth $5 to use for the game, you automatically received a goldfish. After making my friend fork over the fee, I happily accepted the card redeemable for my goldfish. (My friend ended up winning a fish himself so I didn’t feel as bad about taking the free fish for myself.) Seeing as it was St. Anthony’s Italian festival, I decided to name him Anthony. Promptly after leaving the festival that night, I called my aunt who is currently in town visiting and is also staying with me that we had to go to Petsmart, and that it was a very urgent matter.
My aunt and I walk into Petsmart, and I start perusing the fish section. Did you know they have such a thing as “Water Conditioner” for your fish? Naturally I picked it up. I ended up staring at the food and interrogating the employee for about 10 minutes on the ins and outs of the fish food, and asking why some was more expensive than the others; I only wanted the best for my little Anthony, and he was going to get it. After settling on a water filter and the fish food that was NOT on sale, I happily headed home to move him into his new glass home. Originally I had wanted to put him in this glass coffee carafe, but after realzing he would be stuck moving only horizontally, I settled on a decent sized glass container with a slight flare on the lip of the glass, just for some detailed interest.
For the rest of that evening, my aunt kept on referring to him as Antony, and since that name is a little more interesting, I switched it.
What, it’s my perogative as a parent to have 100% control over my child.
That first night I had a nightmare about little Antony. I dreamt that he had jumped out of the container and dropped dead after I had accidentally poured black water into his tank when trying to replace water. I woke up the next morning and quickly checked to make sure he was still alive and moving inside his tank. Before I left for work that morning, I left my aunt a note saying “Had a nightmare about Antony dying. Am I cut out for this?” When she woke up, she wrote on my facebook wall - “Checked on A - “A”ll is well! Better you had the nightmare than me:) Is A “A”llowed @ Penn???” (We’re a very emotionally concerned family as well as concerned about me graduating from Penn without getting thrown out over a fish in the dorms.)
Since getting little Antony, I’ve been concerned his tank is not large enough for his needs as he continually hits his head against the side of the glass. I plan on getting him a bigger tank this coming week; he’ll probably be upsizing from a shoebox in midtown to a UES loft apartment. This means he’s getting a plant as well. I’m also concerned I’m overfeeding him. I can feel the hunger in his small eyes when he’s swimming around the tank and I feel guilty he has no means of his own to feed himself. I then put in an extra pinch of food and long for his fishy approval.
I’ve also been contemplating getting him a little pal because he looks so damn lonely all the time. In naming him Antony, the natural progression is to get a second goldfish and name her Cleopatra. After coming to that conclusion, I thought it would be a great idea to get a third fish, a beta, and put him in a different tank and name him Caesar.
It’s so much fun to be nerdy and single.
Meanwhile, my family is two steps away from taking bets as to how long he’s alive. (We’re compassionate yet realistic.) Most think he won’t last a week, but I’m hoping he sticks around for a year or two, or at least until I have a ring.
Whichever happens first.
That is Antony, and it took me about 10 minutes to try and get a picture of him. I told him to hurry it up, that I had given him ample time to get ready to go, and he decided to not listen to me.
Selective hearing runs in my family.
Instead, Antony decided to stay on the side of the tank where I couldn’t get a clear shot of him. His dismissive antics and slow pace in getting ready definitely makes him my son.
I’m letting the glass rocks soak overnight in water so that they can get cleaned, sort of…
Also, the color scheme of the glass rocks was influenced by his name, as I wanted Antony to go back to the Mediterranean.
Gotta run, it’s past Antony’s bedtime.