Absolutely Bananas: Seattle mom blog

Sign says…

Tonight CJ decides to plaster the back door with SIGNS for daddy to see upon his return from work.

(click here for the answer!)

Sorry Jay, but the fact is, THESE ARE THE RULES!!!

I’ll tell you what you can do with your CIRCLE OF LIFE

This is Part II in the baby seal saga.  Read Part I here.

The thing about baby seals is that they are small.  And helpless. 

And before very long, even though the baby seal is really cute and all, you start to think that maybe the fact that it’s all alone and without any sign of its mother on your beach isn’t such a good thing at all.

“He’s not leaving.”  Jay is standing on the deck gazing out at the little grey lump on the beach.  “He’s been there for a long time, and he’s still not leaving!”

“I know.”  I heave a weary sigh and add, “I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m VERY worried,” my sister interjects.  She’s pregnant, hormonal, and her eyes well up at everything from the cartoon network to cough syrup commercials.  The baby seal situation is CONSUMING her.

Thankfully (or maybe not), we have WiFi at our beach house, so Jay gets online to scope out information about what-to-do-about-baby-seals-on-beaches.

He learns that mother seals often leave the babies while they hunt, then return to nurse them. But frequently the mother never returns and the baby seal dies on the beach.

As the hours go by, the sun begins to set, and the tide moves further up the beach, worry creeps in and consumes our gathering. 

“The mother will come in the darkness,” we tell each other, “She’s just too nervous to come during the day.”

“We’ll wake up and the baby seal will be gone.”

But the air is tense with the unspoken fear that we’ll wake up in the morning and the baby seal will still be there.  And then we’ll have to watch while it wastes away before our eyes.

Suddenly having a house right on the beach is a lot less appealing.

***
I wake up to bright sunlight streaming through the window.

I feel like I’ve been beaten with a stick.  Unfamiliar beds and me never do well together.

The seal!

I leap out of bed and run to the window, squinting into the morning light.

Is that it? 

I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.  Maybe it’s the seal… maybe a rock.  I need my glasses and a closer look to be sure.

I run downstairs and out onto the deck.

There, right beside the water line, is a forlorn little figure. 

The seal.  Oh NO!

Right there, at 8:00 in the morning, I see the rest of our vacation play out before my eyes.  The dying seal.  The agony of watching.  The sadness.  The unfairness.

“It’s the circle of life,” Jay says, seeing my expression.

I don’t answer.

I’ll tell you what you can do with your CIRCLE OF LIFE.

My sister comes inside, her face drawn.  “The baby seal is still there,” she says.

“I know.”

I ALSO know in my heart of hearts that IF the mother seal was coming back, she would have come back in the night.  The future is NOT looking good for our baby seal.

I sit down at Jay’s computer and type in a search for “whidbey island + stranded baby seal + what to do”

There, third down from the top, is an article from the local paper.  And at the bottom is a phone number to call if you find a stranded seal pup.

YES!

Quickly I dial and leave a message, my voice urgent. 

Call me back, I will them, Call me back and come rescue our baby seal.  PLEASE.We eat our breakfast and plan out the day.  The guys want to pull in the crab pot, but my sister is adamently against it. 

“WHAT IF YOU SCARE AWAY THE MOTHER SEAL?” she shrieks, near hysteria, “We have to stay away from the beach!“

“I think that the mother seal isn’t coming back,” dad says.  “I think she would’ve come during the night if she was going to.”

I nod in agreement.

But my sister does NOT back down.

Our harmonious family vacation has become rather less harmonious.

The hostility and confrontation doesn’t go well with my eggs, so I take my breakfast outside.  I sit on the porch and gaze out on the baby seal and contemplate the unfairness of it all.

An hour later my phone rings.

YES!

But it’s not the answer that I want.  The very nice woman informs me that they will NOT be coming to rescue our little seal.  They will ONLY come if the seal is dead.

(fat lot of good that will do)

She admonishes us to STAY AWAY from the seal.  The mother might come back.

But, she warns, the mortality rate for seal pups is 50%.

We should prepare for the worst.

The day drags on.  We do our best to stay away from our section of the beach… but every so often we’ll forget and chase a ball and find ourselves uncomfortably close to where the baby seal lies in a pitiful lump.  We can see the tracks in the sand where he pulled himself up the beach to get away from the tide, and then back down again.

Around 3:00 he starts crying… a horrible, heart-wrenching sound.

“I can’t bear it,” mom says, “I can’t be outside when it’s making that noise.  It’s killing me.”

My father-in-law paces back and forth across the house.  The baby seal is all he can think about.  My sister keeps a vigil on the porch, shouting at passers-by and warning them to keep their distance.

How long can we bear it?

Where will it end?

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Holy Moly it’s a REAL LIVE baby seal!

This has got to be the best vacation ever, I think. I am leaned back against a long piece of sun-bleached drift wood, a tall iced tea in hand, watching as CJ digs a giant hole in the sand. The waves lap against the beach and the sun caresses me ever-so-gently.

Halfway through our week at Whidbey Island and I am totally in VACATION mode.  It’s a good mode, for sure.

Behind me Jay and dad are pulling the insides out of our soon-to-be dinner. Fresh Dungeness crab. Mmmm.

Suddenly, just off in front of me to the left, a movement catches my eye and, I see it.

“JAY!” I shout at the top of my lungs, “GET THE CAMERA BECAUSE THERE’S A BABY SEAL ON THE BEACH!”

Within seconds everyone is standing on the porch overlooking the beach.

“A baby seal?”

“Really?”

“Where?”

“Look! there it is!”

Nestled beside a rock, looking very cute and small, is a seal pup.

“Whoa. It is a baby seal.” Jay has walked down to stand beside me. “When you said you saw a seal, I was thinking it would be in the water. Not right here on the beach!”

The baby seal lifts its head to watch us.  His big black eyes are soulful, like a puppy’s.

“Mommy, he’s so cute!” CJ says.

“Don’t go near it!” shouts my mother, “I saw a newspaper clipping in town that warned people to stay away from seal pups.  If you go too close, the mother will abandon it.”

Luckily my camera has a ZOOM lens.  I snap picture after picture. 

This is unbelievable, I think.

How lucky are WE to have this special little peanut RIGHT HERE on our very own beach? 

Very lucky indeed.

Mom brings out her camera.  My sister gets hers too.  And my father-in-law pulls out the binoculars.

We can’t get enough of the baby seal.  All we see is the fluffiness and the smallness and the cuteness.

This is the best thing EVER!  we tell each other, what a great addition to our vacation!

But we are wrong.  Oh, how very wrong we are.

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Bananas’ 1st and 2nd Laws of Nature

Newton’s Law: A body at rest will remain at rest and a body in motion will continue in motion at a constant speed in a straight line unless acted upon by some outside force

Kepler’s Law: The orbits of the planets are ellipses, with the Sun at one focus of the ellipse.

Murphy’s Law: If anything can go wrong, it will.

Bananas’ Law: If you pay $300 for tickets to see Mark Knopfler in concert at a very fabulous outdoor venue, it will rain.  It will definitely rain.

***

“Look over there!” I point into the distance where the sky is grey and foreboding.  “Do you think it’s gonna rain?  I didn’t bring any rain coats or anything.”

A bolt of lightning lights up the sky.

“No, it’s not gonna rain.” Jay says with confidence.

I shrug. 

We’ll see.

***

“I felt a raindrop!” I hold out my hand, “There! That was another one.  I think you need to go buy those ponchos.”

We’ve discovered that Chateau Ste. Michelle sells ponchos. 

Smart, very smart.

Jay shakes his head, “Nah, it’s not gonna rain.”

“Jay!  It’s GOING to rain!  Look at the sky!”

Jay looks up at the clouds which swirl above us all dark and menacing.

KABAMM!  Thunder crashes.

The sky is growling at us.

The air feels heavy and dense.  Hot.  Sticky.

“There!  Another one!  Do you feel it?”  I wipe a droplet of water off of my cheek and shift in my seat.  “All I’m saying is once it really starts there’s gonna be a mad dash for the ponchos.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Jay gets up and starts making his way across the grass towards the poncho booth.  People around us are pulling out umbrellas and raincoats.

I turn around and say to the couple behind me.  “I should’ve known that it would rain.  It was inevitable, the minute I bought those overpriced tickets.”

They didn’t buy tickets at 150% markup from an online scalper.  They signed up for the Mark Knopfler fan club, and got to buy their tickets BEFORE they were available to the general public.  Plus they got a free CD.

Hmmph.

***

Five minutes later we are huddled under bright blue plastic ponchos as water pours from the sky.

Lightning flashes.

Thunder crashes.

My poncho is stuck to my skin.

Jay looks glum.

Hopefully the music will start soon.

“Aw, come on Jay,” I say, “It’s not THAT bad.  At least we have these handy ponchos!”

He grunts.

“It’s sort of like an adventure,” I add.

Jay isn’t buying.

***

Mark Knopfler and his band enter the stage.  The lights flash.  The lightning streaks across the sky.  And the rain stops.

We tentatively emerge from our sticky plastic, sniff the freshly cleaned air and blink at the evening light as the music of Mark Knopfler surrounds us.

Can it be true?  Did the rain stop?  Really?

The music is amazing.

The show is brilliant.

And the rain goes away.

Best. Concert. Ever.

Bananas’ Second Law: A body at rest will remain at rest and a body in motion will continue in motion and IF IT RAINS at your favorite band’s concert, don’t despair. Just get in motion and get a poncho and who knows, maybe it will pass.

I can’t win

We’re in the car on the way to zoo camp when CJ says to me, “Mommy, when will daddy NEVER have to work any more?”

Which has been a frequent question of late.  And, as much as I’d like to believe that Jay’s phantom stock options (yes, they’re really called that) will result in massive amounts of untold wealth such that he can retire young, I just don’t see it happening.  Not right now.

“Well,” I say, “Pretty soon we’ll be on vacation and daddy won’t have to work for a whole week.”

CJ cocks his head and asks, “He won’t have to work any more?  Ever?”

“No,” I say, “he’ll still have to work.  But he’ll have a lot of days where he doesn’t work!”

“But mommy! YOU don’t work.” 

“That’s true.”

“Why do you not work?”

Isn’t that the age-old question.

“Well CJ,” I say, “I take care of you.”

“Why?” 

he wants to know WHY.

“If I didn’t take care of you,” I say, “who would?”

“Nanny.”  CJ is quick to say the name of his last nanny.  (Which, truth be told, wasn’t really ‘Nanny’ nor did we call her that.  It’s just the most convenient pseudonym that I could come up with right now.)

“Would you rather have mommy go back to work and have Nanny watch you again?” I ask, never one to shy away from a dangerous question.

“No,” he says quickly.  Whew.

Then he adds, “How do you not work any more?”

“Well, I quit my job.” I tell him.  “I decided I wanted to be able to drive you to zoo camp and take you to the park and make you lunch and so I quit my job.”

“You quit you job?!” somehow this seems to have a lot of significance to my little CJ. 

“You QUIT because you like me?”  The amazement in his tone makes me smile.

“I DO like you, CJ.” I say. 

Finally we’re getting somewhere.

“But every day I want daddy,” he says.

Traitor.