I killed my daughter's fish. I am a bad, bad mommy. In my defense, it's not like I did it on purpose. I was cleaning out Goldeen's bowl and just happened to accidentally drop the fish into the sink. (I stand behind the assumption that the fish lurched out of the small container I was transferring her in, so not entirely my fault.)
Betta fish can catch bacterial infections when they get dropped into a sink. Who knew?! I can't be too angry with the associate at the pet store that assured us that betta fish are very difficult to kill. She might've even said that they are idiot-proof. Oops.
I'm thankful that I was the one to find Goldeen floating upside down in her tank, and not Danger. That would have been an even bigger ordeal.
I'm thankful that my husband, Andre, was home to tell Danger that her fish was dead, and not me. It was hard enough choking back my own tears silently (hey, I got pretty darn attached to that critter!)
I'm thankful that my husband selflessly put his wants aside to find a consolation prize for sweet, sad Danger.
And you know what? I'm thankful for the time that we did get to spend with Goldeen. It was so wonderful to watch Danger lovingly care for her "baby" fish. She was her mommy in every way. She fed it, spoke to it, and reminded me to keep her bowl clean.
But really, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I feel like an absolute failure as a parent. Again.
In less than a week's time, I managed to lose my daughter's favorite toy and kill her fish... not my finest week.
Dre tells me that I shouldn't be so hard on myself. He asks questions like, "Can anything that you do bring back her fish?" and "Were you carrying her toy, or was she responsible for carrying it?" and I just want to send him off on a long, solo vacation.
No, I'll just go ahead and accept blame and responsibility for everything. It's what I do. It's who I am. And in the end, it's what makes me such a darn good problem solver. I fix things. I make things right.
And next week will be better, because hey! She's already lost her favorite toy and her fish is dead. She can't lose those two things again next week.
And I'll still be that same old mom - the one holding onto unnecessary guilt - that sings my daughter to sleep and then escapes to consider ways to make life more perfect. I might be a parenting failure, but I look for the small everyday victories that can be managed.