I'm ungrateful. There, I said it.

When you give a Mexican senora some watermelon, she'll want to bake you a cake. Now before you get up in arms, she really is a Mexican, from TJ who speaks espanol -if you didn't say that with Peggy Hill's accent then back it up and do it right- therefore I am trying to be politically correct and loving at the same time, and throw in a little Laura Numeroff for adventure's sake (mouse/cookie).

So here is what happened. A friend from Jason's workplace needs a little help finishing the legalization process of his wife and their children. Jason and his buddies rise to the occasion, which entails finding an apartment, loaning money (not ours of course, as we are broke), and helping to furnish the apartment (our couches aren't nice enough so they were left here unfortunately. Fortunately). So all that we are left to do is to take a little something to them on Monday for FHE- no they are not LDS but who doesn't want some treats, watermelon being one of them.

Two weeks later, or perhaps one ( I suffer from crazy mama brain) they call to see if they can stop by. Sure. Si! They come in with two cakes in boxes and a betta in a vase, with the plant, in all his Siamese glory. The cakes she made herself. Turns out she was some sort of a baker in her previous world-and these cakes are beautiful. I am amazed. So grateful- gracias-one word I know I got right. Anyway, after they leave, and the cakes, slightly less beautiful now, are put into the fridge I face the fish issue. The friend had told the kids that in a pinch he will give the fish pinches of bread; so Reno did. Then Levi did,  but pulled off sacrament size pieces instead. So I've got this fish bowl full of bread and I decide I can't face the fish. I put it off til today and when the kids were primed, they cleaned the rocks and such with much zeal and screaming about spraying each other with the hose and all manner of mayhem. No one was injured I am happy to report.

So then we have the fish in his bowl-no water conditioner to add to the tap I might add. The kids want to feed him again, but I decide that he can wait til we get real fish food. Jason and Reno went at about ten tonight so that he won't starve. The whole time they were gone I was researching these horrid little creatures. Turns out if they don't have at least five gallons, a filter, a heater, hiding spots, and an owner that speaks in zen like tones they will die a painful, ammonia poisoned death. Good thing we have toilets cuz Finn is out of luck (that isn't really his name, but it suits me now). Seriously, these things come from rice paddies. Rice paddies. And you are telling me I have to filter and change and test his water? Where is a goldfish when you need one? I am so not doing this. Reno keeps talking about getting him an aquarium so Finn will be happy, and getting him some friends. I say look boy, you are in the wrong family for all that business, and the Willdens have too many kids to take you in.

Anyway, I feel really bad knowing that I am contributing to the loss of this little fish's life. But not bad enough to fix it. It will be years before Reno can handle the responsibility of an aquarium. When Jason got home from Wal*Mart he said that this was the worst possible gift ever. Now that's an overstatement, but I feel that it is a gift that will keep plaguing us parents--the kids could not be happier. Livy calls it her feees. So you know, the speech therapy potential is there. But really I am disgruntled and not grateful, but quite grateful to have been thought of and remembered so kindly. Ya pickin up what I'm putting down? I give him about two weeks before Livy decides to take her feees outside to show the chickens. Really, its only a matter of time.