Mud and Worms on Mother's Day

Still pajama-clad, picking my way through the early morning fog, trowel in hand, I began Mother's Day 2011 trudging through the garden with my 10 year old. We found the most likely vegetable bed and started digging.

This is what you do if you forget to buy crickets – again – and you've got some fire-bellied toads in need of a meal. This is what you do if you're a mom. You extricate yourself from warm blankets and comfy pillows. You shove your hands in damp earth before you've even had a cup of coffee. You ring in Mother's Day with mud and worms, so that a worried son can tend to his pets.

I did try to "worm" my way out of this task. When my son came upstairs early this morning, bed-headed and wearing his worried face, I sent him out to the garden on his own, with the commandment Get Thee Some Worms. I told him the most likely places to look. I told him no, we could not jump in the car and drive to the pet store to buy crickets, that that errand was not on my How To Spend Mothers Day list, and that driving there and back would take longer than digging around in our own back yard.

He came back in empty-handed. I sent him back out there on his own.

Twenty worm-less minutes later, he was starting to get panicky. He is a great pet-owner, and had reminded me many times that we were low on crickets, then out of crickets, and then still out of crickets. My bad, as they say. Anyway, he was getting pretty worked up about his hungry little ones and his worm-finding failure. So I got up and helped.

I enjoyed some strange gratification when I found worms rather quickly and got an awestruck "How'd you do that?" from my son. And I enjoyed some peaceful gratification when I saw how relieved and happy he was to have four fat worms to feed his flock.

I was cold, muddy, and notably, not sleeping in as I hoped to be on Mother's Day. But the crisp morning air smelled wonderful and the vegetable beds were lovely to look upon. And I made a child's worry dissipate, before I even had a cup of coffee.

You've done it too, if you're a mom. That's what we do. And I can't think of any better use of my time and talents.

And just in case I ever forget to buy crickets again, my son and I now know that the tomato bed is a veritable worm paradise.

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Happy Mother's Day to all, with particular apologies to the Mommy Worms whose offspring got eaten by our frogs early this morning.

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7 Quick Takes: Volume 18

Can I get a Friday, please? Why thank you!

Please visit Jen at Conversion Diary for the original 7 Quick Takes, and for links to the other folks who are playing along.

~ 1 ~

As posted earlier, we lost a frog this week. This is a mystery. The cover of the terrarium did have a rip in it, but we put a book over the ripped part for a temporary fix, and later some duct tape over the same rip, also temporary. The cover itself was not moved from the position it was left in the night before. Nothing else seemed amiss. But Bella was gone.

Fire-bellied toads are not expensive. After several hours of looking for her, and then facing the fact that she could not have survived so long without water, we hit the local Vivarium and brought home another one. My son christened him "Rice." (The other frog he has is named "Beans," a tribute to the beloved frog pet in Cheaper by the Dozen.)

The sun set on a half-happy, half-mourning 10 year old. Rice proved to be just the ticket to mend a broken heart.

~ 2 ~

Fast forward to the next day. Rice is missing. I kid you not, we have now lost two frogs in two days. We discovered the loss when Dad took the cover off the terrarium to re-cover it in new wire mesh. He placed the 10 year old on guard over the terrarium while he had the cover in the garage. While keeping a watchful eye on the inside of the tank, the boy cried out: "RICE IS GONE!" More searching. More panic. More sadness.

Needless to say, I feel like a most irresponsible pet owner: TWO animals in TWO days? Lost! Neglected! Abandoned!

So. Do we go ahead and get another one? Do we deserve it? Am I sending the right message to my son, that little lives are easily replaced at $7.50 a pop?

The cover is all kinds of secure now, but still...

~ 3 ~

So to recap, somewhere in this house are the sad little remains of TWO fire-bellied toads. Add to that tableaux the following: in the past week, my daughter spilled an entire bag of tortilla chips in my entryway. My other daughter dropped a glass mason jar of homemade applesauce on our front walk. Both of my sons stepped in dog poop in their bare feet (on different days). Yesterday, my four year-old poured orange juice all over the counter while aiming for a cup. Many sheets have been peed upon. While traveling my hardwood floors, I've stepped on legos and sand and pools of water; at least I hope it was water. It was probably water, since we left shallow bowls of water in every room of the house in a vain attempt to catch wayward frogs. We have dog hair in our new modeling clay. There are ants...everywhere. I just discovered a lake of Irish breakfast tea, with milk and sugar, filling up the reservoirs on my old wooden cutting board. Life is messy.

Wanna come over?

~ 4 ~

Delightful homeschooling activity: Reading aloud. When I finish this post, I'm off to read to the kids from Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, by Roald Dahl. We've done some reading aloud in the past, but much more now that we are homeschooling. One of the best things reading aloud does for me is to make me slow down. There is no way to read out loud quickly. Well, I suppose you can, but you ruin the story if you do that.

Time slows down, children grow magically quiet as they listen, good stories fill the air. So today's recommended reading is: Anything read aloud.

~ 5 ~

My son just told me: "Man, parents these days worry way too much about the things their kids do."

I'll be adding that to my list of Things To Remind My Kids About When They Become Parents.

~ 6 ~

It's that time of year again, when I vow to do the Holidays right, avoid stress, celebrate Advent, keep things in perspective, spend wisely, and resist the prevailing consumerist culture.

Without fail, I fail.

I always get overwhelmed and stressed out.

I take it as a sign of hope that I stand here before you, on the brink of the Holiday season, and vow once more to Fight the Good Fight.

How do you maintain sanity during the holidays?

~ 7 ~

Halloween has come and gone, and I didn't even manage to get pictures of everyone in their costumes. As usual, we've had a candy-filled week, some of it acquired legitimately, much of it pilfered behind my back. Halloween always reminds me of the greatest candy-sneaker of them all, Lady E. So for my 7th Quick Take, I am posting two links from Halloween 2007; these stories make us laugh every time we tell them. Enjoy!

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It's a Little Crowded in Here Already

My boys discovered our fire-bellied toads, uh, wrestling the other day. They thought this was hilarious, that the one on the bottom (the "boy" frog named Beans) kept jumping around the entire tank, while the one on the top (the "girl" frog named Bella) just kept right on...holding on, so to speak.

Apparently, our random gender assignments were backwards.

Imagine my not insignificant consternation when I found this on Wikipedia:

Fire Bellied Toads mate several times with the male embracing the female in the pelvic region. The female of the species typically lays 80–300 eggs that can be found hanging off plant stems. The offspring develop in pools or puddles. Their metamorphosis is complete within a few weeks, peaking in July–August.

Later today, I will be making a panicked call to the East Bay Vivarium, from whence came Beans and Bella.

Because this is cute, right?

Well, 1 or 2 of them are cute. 300 of them? Not cute at all.

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What Our New Frogs Have Taught Me

I have learned that escaping crickets are no cause for alarm.

Turns out, that if you accidentally let a couple of crickets loose in your house, you'll come across them in a day or two, catch them, and dispatch with them forthwith.

As I sat at the top of my stairs today, putting on my shoes, a bit of motion caught my eye. There, hopping down the stairs next to me, was one wayward cricket, lost in the boys' room a couple of days ago. At the time, I felt considerable panic and disquiet at the prospect of something buggy jumping around the house. And here he was, looking like he was out for a stroll to check out the new digs.

One plastic cup and an index card later, I caught the little stinker and surprised Beans and Bella with a mid-morning snack.

I no longer need to freak out if a cricket gets loose. What else will these creatures teach me?

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