If at first you don't succeed - skydiving is not for you.
Lately I've been getting an itch again. No not some nasty rash, an itch to once again attempt something from my childhood. Every now and then toy companies re-market items that take us back to a nostalgic time of innocence and magic. The other day while shopping with the kids I had a "ooooh! I want, I want!" moment, my girls turned to see me mesmerised by the new-look Sea-Monkeys.
"No Mum, leave them alone." advises Emily, who can recall all too well my last attempt at growing these creatures which ended (as always) in a complete aqua civilisation lost.
I still remember my first attempt at raising these funny little monkey families; after seeing promises of happy little friends in the back of comic books (along with the x-ray glasses and the giant balloons), I finally found a packet of Sea-Monkeys at the local Markets. I couldn't wait to get my mysterious little packet of dried powder home to 'simply add water' and see the little fellows come to life.
Belief is the centre of magic, and as children we overflow with it. I believed Santa came every Christmas Eve to leave me a special gift, I believed there were Gnomes in my garden, I believed my teddy loved me and I believed in advertising. So I filled my little tank, waited for the water to be safe and carefully added my little friends. I was suitably amazed when tiny specks moved around in the water and devastated when only weeks later they had stopped moving.
It did not take me long to try again, and again the many specks ceased to exist. I think I have probably attempted this impossible task about half a dozen times in my life, all with the same tragic results. One particularly disturbing time was when I was 9months pregnant with my first child and accidentally killed my whole tank of swimming pets by putting them out in the sun (for fresh air). I was very concerned about my ability to raise a human life.
There is a kind of god-complex that comes with trying to 'create' life and in reflection I feel my responsibility to fail these little lives is nothing short of Sea-Monkey genocide.
Can I really try again, knowing that I will probably be killing hundreds? I think I am addicted to the rush of seeing those tiny specks move about, and besides I have a good feeling this time I will be lucky. After all - Rehab is for quitters.