No Escape

Marriage is a funny thing. You can go from such emotional highs to such depressive lows in such a short span of time that it's actually remarkable. For example, hypothetically, a wife might experience that kind of dramatic mood swing on a day that begins with her husband's terrific idea of taking a hike in the canyons - and ends with that same husband buying a pet snake.

That needs to be fed baby mice.
Without discussing it with the wife first.
And say the wife doesn't like snakes.
Or baby mice.

Ah, marriage. Ours is a good one, but boy did we test it out today. We started out with a hike in Coldwater Canyon. I'd never done that before, and had always imagined it being difficult and complicated to find the trails or something. But Y brought it up with Elan, the goal being to find more interesting bugs than the ones in our miniscule backyard. It was warm but breezy, and I never realized how pretty it is in the mountains, how true nature really exists just beyond the border of bumper-to-bumper Lexus SUVs and black Beemers that lines the paved part of the canyons. And I'm pretty outdoorsy, grew up camping regularly, so I was very pleased with the find.

We walked and walked, raced when the kids began running out of steam, petted dogs on leashes, pointed out Blue Jays and dragonflies. The four of us were in great spirits, having the best time together as a family than we've had in awhile. Sundays are our days together, our bonding time, and this one didn't disappoint. I made both mental and verbal notes to start jogging the trails once the kids were back in school and actually believed I might do it.

When we returned to the top of the hill, we began a search for more of the small, well-camouflaged lizards we'd spotted at the onset of our hike, because Elan, naturally, was desperate to bring one home with us. We wandered towards the tree nursery, which seemed more lizard-abundant than the trail. After several hushed minutes of search, we had only seen one, and it was much too fast to catch. Elan was growing less hopeful, the complaining had begun.

We sat down to rest on a very large pile of cut tree trunks and realized it was practically teeming with the little guys we'd been looking for, so Y and I began a frantic attempt to follow and capture at least one lizard for our son. They were so tiny and harmless-looking, it seemed like a humble enough goal.

Unfortunately, Y and I turned out to be shameless wimps and whenever either of us had an easy grab, we froze. I'd be going, "Just do it, Y! Just scoop it up!" And his hand would be an inch away from the thing's tail, trembling, and just stop there. I'd be all, "Come ON! He was in the palm of your hand!" And then Y would tell me to take a turn, my three boys as my cheerleaders, and I just couldn't go through with it. Elan, who was more than brave enough, was just too quick-moving, too harsh, and inevitably scared the things off.

Y and I mused about how neither of us could just handle an animal in its natural habitat like that, how it was totally different than touching or holding one at a petting zoo, or, say, Elan's birthday party.

Ariel was mainly concerned with finding a tree trunk just the right size for him to park his little fanny on. He really likes little chairs.

Y kicked one of the trunks over, and several lizards scurried off. Suddenly, something much larger, scalier, and with a white rattle attached to its tail slithered under the logs too.

"HOLY MOTHER F---ER DIDJOU SEE THAT IT'S A RATTLESNAKE!!!!!" Y and I screamed simultaneously. I threw Ariel over my shoulder, Y did the same with Elan, and we ran for the car, the sound of Elan's harried questions echoing in our footsteps. We threw the boys in their car seats, started the ignition, and stared at each other, frozen, panting from the sprint.

"Oh. My..."
"I know. Holy crap. Holy crap holy crap holy crap."
"We were right next to it..."
"The kids were right next to it..."
"The whole time, the whole hour we were looking, it was under our feet..."
"How stupid are we? Are we retarded?"
"Of course a snake would be in there. Of course. How could we have been so...so...moronic?"
"Oh my god, the boys. Sitting on top of a rattlesnake."
"I even knew, I'd read not to poke around off the trail, that there were rattlesnakes here..."

Elan, meanwhile, wanted to go back. "I missed it!" he wailed. "I didn't get to seeeee it! Pleeeease can we go seeeeee it?"

Ariel went, "Snake ees bad. I'm 'tared! Candy, peez!" (We keep licorice in the car.)

Elan was disappointed about leaving with his paper cup both lizard- and snake-free. Y was tempted to go back, to poke around out of sheer fascination, and I'll admit, I was too. But we thought better of it, slowly regaining our senses with the bloodflow to our faces, and sped off, still chattering about our brush with venom.

A couple of minutes down the road, Elan was fast asleep.

"Hey," Y whispered to me, glancing back at Elan, his face mischievous and excited. "Wanna go to a pet shop while he's sleeping and get him a little lizard to surprise him with when he wakes up?"

"Yes!" I replied immediately, also smiling. "A cheap, little one that can live in Mr. Turtley's tank. He'll totally flip!"

Some women might not have been so into such an idea, but I, for some reason, have never minded lizards. My brothers had them as pets when we were kids, several chameleons and at least one Spike Tail, and they never really creeped me out. I'm okay with turtles, okay with lizards. They're small, low-maintenance, don't seem slimy to me.

I'm NOT okay with any form of rodent-as-pet, including guinea pigs, and I am NOT okay with snakes. But I guess Y and I didn't discuss the intricacies.

When we got to The Aquarium Center, Elan was still asleep, so I stayed in the car with him while Y and Ariel ran in to make the purchase. I couldn't wait to see Elan's face when he woke up, and cranked up the radio, thinking happy thoughts while waiting.

Soon enough, they emerged from the store, a smallish reptile tank in Y's arms. I leapt out of the front seat to get a better look, but Y held the tank high over my head.

"What kind of lizard did you get?!" I exclaimed. "Why won't you show me?"
"Well, for starters, it isn't a lizard. The guy at the store said that none of the lizards would make good pets for kids, they all bite."
"Um," I said carefully. "Then what is in there?"
"Dat NAKE!" Ariel yelled.
"It's a little snake," Y was proud. "They said it's totally low-maintenance, harmless, much better for a kid like Elan! Look at how cute he is!"

I have to tell you, it was one of those moments in which you actually feel your heart stop for a moment. I ordered him to march right back inside and return it.

Y was confused. Why was I fine with a lizard but not a snake? He'd seen me and Elan's party, I had touched the snakes, why on earth would he have suspected that I would prefer one reptile over another? After all, a snake was just a lizard sans feet!

"The feet MAKEALLTHEDIFFERENCE." I replied tersely, through clenched teeth. The butterflies in my stomach were rapidly turning into nausea.

I looked at the snake. It was tiny, cute almost, but snake-like nonetheless. I didn't want to own it. I didn't want it in my house, where I sleep. Where Ariel sleeps.

"Harmless, Mag. It's harmless," Y soothed. "Doesn't bite, doesn't sting, doesn't do anything really. Just give it a chance."

Maybe it was the shock, but I stayed silent for a moment. I thought about giving it a chance.

"What does it eat, then?" I asked.
"Oh. Well that's the on-ly thing..." Y began, just as Elan started to stir.

He placed the tank on Elan's lap, whose eyelids fluttered and then opened completely, wider and wider with each second of recognition.

"Is that for me?"
Y nodded.
"I can't believe it!!! How did you get it??" Elan managed to squeak out, his face threatening to break from the strength of his grin.

Y got behind the wheel, I returned Ariel to his car seat and repeated my question: "What. Does. It. Eat?"
"Oh. Baby mice."

Before I could react, Elan asked, "Is it going to die if we take it home?" to which Y responded, "No, it's going to live a very long time."

"How long?" It was my turn to squeak.

"Up to fourteen years."

It was at this point that I began to cry.

I actually cried. I didn't want to ruin the moment for Elan, but there was no way I was keeping a snake, who needed to be fed baby mice every two weeks, in my home. No way. I think I'm pretty easygoing with all of the boy stuff I put up with, but even I have my limits. And if the thought of owning something makes me cry? I'm not keeping it.

I said as much to Y, who assured me that I'd never have to touch the thing, that he would handle all of the feeding and "play time." I assured him he wouldn't have to, because we would be returning it to the pet store before we ever had to feed it.

He apologized profusely for not having checked with me before making such a monstrous decision, promised he'd never have done so if he'd had any inkling I'd be this upset.

"But honestly, Mag," he pleaded. "You need to calm down. There's no way it can get out, just give it a chance. We'll keep it a few days and if you still feel the same way about it then, we'll return it. I'll blame it on myself, I'll tell Elan something, make up a reason. It won't be on you. But at least try."

By then we were home, Elan rushing upstairs to lovingly place the tank on his dresser, Y helping him hold it ever so gently - the snake that was curling around his fingers like the curly, creepy little thing it was. Elan was ecstatic. Ariel, his mother's child, just wanted some freakin' chicken nuggets already because he CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT WHEN HE'S STARVING! He and I headed downstairs together, where I began throwing the ingredients for pizza dough into the breadmaker, dinner for Y and me, still tearing up and sniffling uncontrollably. Ariel didn't notice.

Eventually, Y and Elan joined us. Elan had caught on that I wasn't very happy about the snake, had heard me begging Y to take it back to the store. As he settled himself into a chair at the table, ready to tuck into his dinner, he said to me, "Mommy? If you don't want to keep the snake, we can return it in a couple of days. It's okay with me. I won't be angry or sad. Because anyways what if it gets out and slithers down the balcony and gets lost while we have it? It might want to go home. And anyways, I will still have pets - I'll still have Mr. Turtley and my ant farm."

I wrapped my arms around him, burying my nose in his Baby Shampoo-scented hair, breathing in the sweetness that was this boy, this little man. He smiled up at me, kissed my cheek, and repeated, "I'll still have some pets."

"I was thinking I could get you a little fish or something to put in that tank instead?" I suggested.

"Great," he replied, happily dunking his chicken in ketchup. "If you get me a fish, then I'll still have three pets, even without the snake!" He had tacked on basic math skills to Being a Damn Nice Guy.

I was proud, but still depressed. We would keep the snake for a few days and then return it to the store, before it needed to be fed, but knowing that didn't make me feel much better. I curled up in Y's lap, needing confirmation that I wasn't the devil.

"I just can't have it around," I explained.
He'd had enough. "Alright. Just leave it alone for a few days, and we'll see how you feel then."
"I just don't want you to think I'm going to change my mind," I answered. "I know how I'm going to feel."
"Shhhh," he murmured.

I put the kids to bed, had dinner, watched some TV. Y went to play basketball, leaving me alone with the snake. I'm not looking at it, pretending it doesn't exist.

Just as I started writing this post, Elan appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Mommy? I can't fall asleep," he whispered. He went on to explain the vivid daydreams he was having about snakes popping through holes in his bed, biting him, getting loose, appearing everywhere. I held him, carrying him back to his bedroom, assuring him that there were no other snakes in the house, that nothing could hurt him, that his imagination was simply on overdrive after such an eventful day.

And I felt great about my decision to return the damn thing.

Just as I bent down to drop Elan back into bed, however, he touched my cheek, whispering, "And Mommy? I really want to keep my snake, I really don't want to return him. Can we please just keep him? Please?"

I said we would give it a few days and see how I felt then.