Ode to Hermit Crabs

I think you died
But just can't tell.
You look the same to me.
Languishing in
Your little shell
But now you are smelly.

Your legs are gone.
Your claws are too,
But still you lasted a week,
I'm sorry that
Ya'll are dead.
Though I likely will not weep.

I should not be in charge of living things.

It started off like any other morning. I woke up, got the kids ready for school, made lunches, fed the baby, and put Sally and Prime, our little hermit crab friends, in the sink so they can play. It was an ordinary morning for Lennie too. He made the kids pancakes, exercised, read the newspaper and started the dishwasher.

After I finished feeding Ella her rice cereal, I went over to the sink to wash out the bowl and that's when it all went terribly tragically wrong. I couldn't decide between vomiting, fainting or running from the kitchen while convulsing with the heeby geebies. As I looked into the sink, I saw bits of soapy foam clinging to the sides, two hermit crab shells laying on the stainless steel sink floor with the sink water drained out...and little hermey claws and legs scattered all around the sink. Yes, every single one of their legs fucking FELL OFF!

Ahhhbleaaaghewwwbbbbllaaaa!

Apparently, it's not a good idea to run the dishwasher while you have living things in the sink because the hot soapy water backs up the drain. And if those living things happen to be hermit crabs, their legs fall off.

And, as if I didn't feel bad enough, when I picked one of the poor things up to look inside it's shell, it was still alive, cowering in the way back, and probably wondering what the hell it ever did to deserve being boiled until it's legs falls off. Damn. Now, I really feel like a monster. So, I did what any good mother would do: stand there in shock while Connor wandered over to see what all the fuss was about. He peeked into the sink and said, "But, Mommy? Why did all their legs falled off? It's not your fault." Crap. I am definitely a monster.

I put the little hermies back in their tank and underneath their hidey-hole-hut to hopefully either let them die in peace or possibly recover. Do their legs and claws grow back? I don't know, but I do know that if they don't, I'll be nursing two crippled crabs for the rest of their lives. Maybe I could make little wheelchairs for them.
I'm a monster.

Mama said Knock You Out

Yes, that's right. Lennie and I spent this weekend in Tampa, where we collected seashells on the beach, went running, went to the movies together, and I got into a fistfight. But, more on that later. We also went to (get ready because I'm going to sing it:) The Suuuuperbowl La La La Laaaaaa! Since Lennie is still technically on the Browns' roster, and those days are rapidly coming to an end, I figured it would be my only chance for a long long time - if ever - to go see the Superbowl, la la la la. Plus, we haven't been away together without kids since Sayde was 13 months old. So, even though the Red Bitch was in town, we had a great time doing all the stuff you take for granted when you don't have kids, aka, peeing without an audience.





Oh, by the way, if you are ever in North Redington Beach, swing by The Frog Pond for breakfast. Holy Yum. After Lennie and I snarfed down an omelet the size of France, and a fruit plate that rivals the Chiquita Banana lady's hat, we were off to the game. We got there plenty early (5 hours early) so that we could walk around the NFL Experience, and get price gouged. We waited on a 10 minute line just to get IN to the *tent* store, and once inside, we discovered not only was it 1,000 degrees, but the acceptable price for a sweatshirt is apparently hundreds of dollars. So, empty handed except for a $10 beer (which was worth every penny), we wandered over to the stadium.

Our seats were about 2 rows from the very top, so we ambled up up up the ramp and walked along the concourse looking for our section. Whoops, you can't get to this section from this side of the stadium, so back down down down the ramp we went on our way to the opposite side.

If you have ever been to Raymond James Stadium, or watched a Tampa Bay Bucaneers' game on TV, you will be familiar with the pirate ship, which sits in one of the endzones:




It's pretty cool, except for one little oversight by the designers. In order to get from one side of the stadium to the other, 72,000 people have to squeeze through a concourse that suddenly shrinks down to about 10 feet wide in one section. Needless to say, this creates a bit of a logjam.



Here's where the fistfight occurred. Now, let me just preface this by saying that I abhor confrontation. I am typically a mild mannered suburban mom who smiles and waves at people while I putter around town in my minivan. However, I have now learned that I have a darker side and can suddenly turn into a screaming lunatic at a moment's notice. Lennie and I were inching our way through wall to wall bodies, smiling at the people trying to squeeze through and bonding over how much it sucked, when it happened: I felt a hand on my butt. "Ok," I thought, "It's really crowded. It could be an accident." Then, the mystery hand squeezed my butt... twice. Without a thought in my head, I whipped around to face the man directly behind me.

"How dare you," I snarled.


He immediately put both hands in the air and said, "It wasn't me." Guilty. And that's about the time when I LOST MY SHIT.

Here's me, face to face with Mr. Grabby, placing my right hand on his douchebag neck and shoving as hard as I can (which I'm pretty proud to say caused him to stumble back a few feet) and screaming, "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

A circle cleared around us, and a lot of people began yelling. That's when Lennie jumped in and I think pulled me out of the way so he could have some words with the disgusting pervert. The rest of it was kind of a blur...I hear rage tends to do that. After spending a few minutes convulsing with adrenaline, I decided to not let it ruin the game for me. But, I am still hoping the pervert got hit by a bus later that day.

After the unexpected discovery of a backbone, I also stood up for myself when someone cut in front of me in line to buy a t-shirt. I know, it was a big day for me. We also got to see The Boss, which was pretty awesome. Plus, the actual game was not too shabby either.

Minus one moment of guttural furor, the weekend was beautiful. Many thanks to Poppy, La La and D for watching the kids for us while we were away. We had such a good time, in fact, that we decided to expand our family. Meet "Prime" and "Sally".




We thought Sally was dead for a while. As it turns out, she is only shy.