The Sea Monkey Chronicles

If it isn't blatantly obvious, I am procrastinating, so I don't have to go back to the arduous task of packing my kitchen. Why else would I be blogging about something like sea monkeys?

Gabe, (bless his strange, strange, little heart), has wanted to have his very own sea monkey habitat for, well, forever. He was happy to settle for this rudimentary option when I informed him awhile back that he couldn't have a fish tank yet, and must've been fairly dead-set on this little miracle of science, because it was one of the first things he scribbled down on his Christmas list this year. Considering he didn't give me a whole lot of "realistic" options on his list (a toy tornado?), I was happy to oblige his request, and on Christmas morning, he was thrilled to discover his very own sea monkey starter-kit under the tree.

It goes without saying that Christmas Day was beyond chaotic, shuffling the kids between 87 different locations, so that everyone had their "turn" (sigh). By the time they returned to my house late that afternoon, all of the day's excitement had not been enough to distract Gabe from the pressing task at hand-- the single most important thing he'd been waiting for-- hatching his sea monkeys. I had about a million other things to do that did not involve sea monkey birth, like collecting the mess of wrapping paper off the floor, beginning to unwire all of the toys from their packages (whoever invented toy packaging devices should be considered a terrorist, in my personal opinion), and tend to three whiny, very exhausted children. None of this mattered to Gabe, of course. He just wanted those darn sea monkeys, and he wanted them now.

Fine, fine. Give Mommy a chance to, I don't know, use the bathroom without being disturbed?-- and I'll get right on those sea monkeys. At this point, I was kind of questioning what must have been going through my mind when I decided to buy them, but I figured it couldn't be that hard, and began reading the instructions. Okay, there are three little packets here, clearly numbered in order. I can figure this out... Wait... Oh, c'mon! Oh, you've got to be joking! We have to wait 24-hours for the water to purify? I groaned, knowing this unpleasant news was going to send Gabe, (who was already cranky from the events of the day), spiraling into a wave of drama from which he would likely never recover.

Um, Gabe? Honey? Sweetheart? Sugar-plum? I have some bad news.... Well, that did it. The tears started, as well as a lot of groaning, and big, dramatic, sweeping hand gestures, that only served to highlight the absolute injustice that had just befallen him. It was, in fact, the end of the world. But I can't wait 24-hours! That will take forever! He was not to be consoled. After Gabe began to come to his senses a bit, I explained the necessity for the water purification, emphasizing the fact that his primitive new pets would, in fact, die, if he ignored the 24-hour rule. Although he was still incredibly disgusted by the idea, he agreed to wait until he returned Monday morning to introduce his sea monkey eggs to their new home.

Geez, all it takes is some lousy shrimp eggs to screw up one kid's holiday.

Bright and early, at 6:30 Monday morning, the kids returned home, and the very first words out of Gabe's mouth were, "Mommy! Let's do my sea monkeys now! It's been 24-hours!" Lovely, sweetheart. I've only been awake for 15-minutes, I broke my nose yesterday afternoon, have a splitting headache, and haven't even peed yet this morning, but sure, we'll be sure and hatch those sea monkeys. So, as promised, I tore open the little packet with the big number "2" on it, and dumped it into the water. The packaging reads "instant life--sea monkeys", but I instantly saw nothing. I mean, I knew they were teeny-tiny and everything, but there was nothing to be seen. Gabe was displeased (and that's putting it mildly). After managing to distract them for a bit with some breakfast, I decided to consult the official sea monkey website for some answers. The fact that there is an entire website devoted to the details of sea monkey life is a little disturbing, but then again, I'm devoting an entire blog (or more) to it, so who am I to talk?

Upon perusing the website, I discovered that I needed to stir the water gently after dumping the second packet into the tank. Well, it sure would be nice if they indicated that on the actual packaging, instead of just showing you a cartoon of someone sprinkling the contents in the water, but whatever. So, I stirred, and still, there was nothing. Great. There was absolutely no way on the planet that I was going to tell Gabe that our project had failed, so I side-stepped the issue and told him we'd check on the tank again in a little while, to see how things were going. Yeah, that little line continued on into Tuesday.

Highly dissatisfied with the progress of our little experiment, I took the kids to Toys 'R Us Wednesday morning to fetch a new starter packet. By golly, we are going to grow some darn sea monkeys if it's the last thing we do! Of course, this mind-set was also coming from someone who has failed at keeping a house plant alive, so the fact that I had yet to succeed at a scientific process that had an actual "guarantee" attached to it was not surprising. We returned home, starter packets in hand, and I once again consulted the website, to insure that I didn't screw this up again. I wasn't sure Gabe could take anymore disappointment, and if we had failed again, I'm pretty sure he would've started questioning the meaning of life at that point.

So, there I was, navigating their impossible website, when I ran across a portion that reminded new sea monkey owners that they might not see any signs of life at first, but that they should not dump out the water, because there could very well be tiny baby sea monkeys alive and well inside the tank. Well, I certainly couldn't risk adding "sea monkey murder" to my long list of sins, so I decided to check the tank one last time before adding the new eggs. Lo and behold, there they were! Teeny-tiny, little baby sea monkeys, propelling themselves around their new home! What the? Okay, these things look like sperm. Are you serious? Wow. I got my child a sperm farm for Christmas. I am officially Mother of the Year.

Although I was pretty disturbed by the sperm resemblance, I happily called Gabe into the kitchen to introduce him to his new pets. He grabbed the magnifying glass and excitedly peered into the tank with a huge, goofy grin on his face. I see them! There's a whole sea monkey family! He was beaming-- a proud new papa if I'd ever seen one. His faith in the world had been restored by the proven existence of baby shrimp in a little red plastic tank.

Since then, Gabe has been religiously checking on his first-born, and is quite excited to give them their first feeding tomorrow. After doing more reading on the website, I was shocked to find out that a sea monkey habitat can last as long as two years, because they reproduce and so forth (I knew sperm had to come into play somehow). So, providing Gabe is a responsible parent, this little project could last us some time to come, and I am sure there will be many an interesting tale involving our latest additions (hence the title of this particular entry). I just hope they survive the move, in approximately 16 days. Speaking of which, I should probably quit rambling about shrimp and get back to packing.