We’re Having Sea Monkeys

“Guess what sweetheart? We’re having Sea Monkeys!”

That’s what I imagine announcing to my fiancee over a candlelit dinner, as I drive home with my brand new Ocean Zoo Sea Monkey kit. Becoming a Sea Monkey parent is never a planned process. It’s somewhat accidental–an impulsive buy in the toy store. Like any new parent, I’m nervous. I have no idea what I’m getting into. “But we’ll learn together,” I’ll say.

“I do not want to live with those things,” is her response, when I get home.

“It’s for the blog,” I say. She’s generally supportive of these things if I tack on the words for the blog. “Besides, maybe I could write something really meaningful about them.”

“They’re still gross.”

She bluffs. I know she’ll like them once she sees how cute they are–whatever they are.

Sea Monkeys are a type of brine shrimp that can live in a state of suspended animation for decades through a process known as cryptobiosis. In nature, cryptobiosis is an evolutionary state allowing organisms to survive indefinitely until environmental conditions return to being hospitable. I don’t get that. So let’s just call it time travel.

Brine Shrimp can be bought in tropical fish stores in tubes by the thousands to be raised as fish food. But here in the Ocean Zoo kit, these brine shrimp are marketed to children as instant, easy-to-care-for pets renamed “Sea Monkeys.” The kit comes with a small plastic tank, water purifier, growth food, and a packet containing a more manageable seventy-five brine shrimp eggs.

I had Sea Monkeys as a kid, though my memories are not happy. I remember sitting in the kitchen and dumping the packet of instant life into the water. But they did not instantly appear and put on a show for me. Instant life did not equal instant fun.

“Let’s give them a few days,” my mother said, as we stared together at the container of still tap water.

And I remember staring sadly into the tank for days on end, waiting for the adorable little Sea Monkeys to appear, to swim and to dance. I was certain they could dance. The instructions said that you could even teach them to do tricks by training them with a flashlight, and I was ready whenever they were, flashlight in hand.

But after two weeks, my mother conceded we may have done something wrong. I had a tankful of dead-on-arrivals.

I am ready to attempt Sea Monkeys again. And perhaps I will find something meaningful to say about them along the way. Maybe I will learn the lessons and wisdom of the Sea Monkeys. Or quite possibly, I will kill them all again. But first, I would have to wait twenty-four hours after adding the water purifier.

The girlfriend confesses she was about “twenty-five percent excited.” (She has since rescinded that statement and wishes to comment that they look like sperm.) But I’m fully ninety-nine percent excited–but I also found myself fretting. What if I am grossed out by them? What if I decide I just don’t want them anymore? What if we move, and I don’t want to take them with me? What if they smell bad? This must be what it’s like for any parent-to-be. The girlfriend assures me in a motherly voice that it will help me “learn responsibility and how to take care of pets.” She has been working around children too long.

Day one. I am so excited. It’s been twenty-four hours since I dumped the water purifier in. Well, actually it’s only been twenty two hours and five minutes, but I cannot wait any longer. I decide to hatch them now. What’s the extra two hours going to do? I drop them in and wait for the miracle of life to occur. Or at least the miracle of cryptobiosis.

The eggs sink lazily to the bottom. And that’s it. I want something happen. Right now. Come on. Right now.

“Well this is a good lesson for you about delaying your gratification,” the girlfriend says. She really has been working around children too long.

Well at least I was armed with knowledge going in this time. The eggs can take up to several days to hatch. If the water conditions aren’t exactly right–not salty enough; not warm enough–the eggs will wait to hatch. They’ve been dormant cysts for the last ten years. Another couple hours or days doesn’t make a difference to them.

Day two. I see the first one. I feel an immediate, strong attachment. My son. He’s barely the size of a pinpoint, and I can only see him in direct sunlight with one eye shut. A few hours later, there are others. At least ten. I love them all. What was I thinking with my doubts? Of course I want to keep them forever.

I take a look at the mail order form. You see, even though Sea Monkeys have a website, the company that makes them, the important-sounding Transcience Corporation, only accepts orders by mail order form. That’s right–no credit cards, no online purchase–cash and checks only. Mail Order. There’s two words from the past.

There is quite the menagerie of things one can order for their pet Sea Monkeys. This list includes: a “super” version of their food, “magic” vitamins, magical gem-like “diamonds” to decorate their tank, a formula to make them grow faster, a special banana treat, Sea Monkey medicine, and a mating powder that makes them fall in love. All these intriguing formulas come in little square packets. But come on. Who actually buys this stuff?

It’s only day two, but I am quickly learning the first Sea Monkey Lesson. That the only thing you can do with them is dump stuff in their tank. And I need stuff to dump, if I’m to have any sort of fun. I find myself gazing at the mail order form over and over again, and then curiously, uncontrollably, picking up a pen. Next thing I know, I’m checking off the packets I want, writing a check, stuffing it in an envelope, writing out the address to that neato sounding TRANSCIENCE CORPORATION. I write the letters with a bit of relish, pressing the pen down onto the envelope.

Each packet runs about three dollars a pop. I order the Banana Treat because even Sea Monkeys love snacks, the Sea Diamonds because that sounds fun, and the Sea-Medic, in case their tank becomes contaminated with a deadly bacteria that slowly suffocates them by depleting all their oxygen. You can never be too safe.

Day three. The babies are fully visible to the eye, and they are so cute. I love the way they swim in a strange herky-jerky way. There are at least twenty of them, and maybe thirty.

Here’s Baby Sea Monkeys: The Movie.

But their tank is so drab and boring. I can’t wait around for those Sea Diamonds–or whatever the hell they are–to arrive. I imagine an ornamental sunken pirate ship for them to explore for treasure. They’ll love it! I decide to go to Pet Smart.

I feel only a little silly as I walk through the parking lot, approaching the store. Families are walking in to buy food for their real pets, like Fido and Snowball, and I’m looking for a pirate ship for my Sea Monkey tank. As I wander the aisles, an associate asks me if I need help. I mention I’m looking for a pirate ship. She leads me to a large one that would be great for a forty gallon fish tank. No, I say, “this is a for a sea monkey tank. I need much smaller.”

“Oh,” she says. And that’s it.

Maybe I expected her to exclaim “Sea Monkeys!” and ask me their names. Or maybe compliment me on what a great idea it is to add ornamental figures to their tank. Maybe she’ll applaud me. Everyone else thinks their just primitive brine shrimp—no one ever thinks about what they might enjoy.

But instead, she just adds, “well that’s the only pirate ship we have.”

I thank her and tell her I’ll see if anything else catches my eye. There are not many ornaments to choose from that would fit in the small Ocean Zoo tank. But I settle on a small blue submarine. While not a pirate ship, the submarine is pretty cool. I’m not picky, and I don’t think they are either. I decide hot pink rocks would also look awesome lining the bottom of their tank.

Next, I need something to aerate the tank. Sea Monkeys are oxygen pigs and need air bubbles regularly blown into their tank. Once you start researching in depth, these little monkeys need things like regular aeration, medicine, and vitamins. Keeping brine shrimp as pets becomes an expense just like keeping any other pet. This is not advertised well on the packaging, nor is it explained much in the instructions–most likely because parents would back away slowly if they knew it was all this work.

There are several ways one can aerate the tank: purchasing the Million Bubbles Air Pump™ through the mail order form, which just looks like a crappy piece of plastic with a fancy name. Another method is to pour the Sea Monkey water back and forth between their tank and a clean glass. However, I’ve ruled out this method based on my inability to even pour coffee into a mug without spilling it. A crude method is to blow into the water through a straw—but be careful not to suck up, kids!

The straw method is the cheapest, and I picture myself blowing bubbles into the Sea Monkey home up to three times a day. Perhaps this could teach me another important Sea Monkey Lesson about love–perhaps the greatest Sea Monkey lesson of them all. Instead, I decide to look for an eye dropper or something else that would force air out by squeezing.

Another associate in Petsmart comes up to me to see if I need help. I explain I’m looking for a pet eye dropper.

“Yep, we sure do have those,” she says heartily, “what’s it for?”

“Sea Monkeys.”

She says nothing, and leads me to the droppers in silence. What is going on? Does Petsmart have a grudge against Sea Monkeys? Is it because I’m not with an adorable five year old girl clutching her Ocean Zoo tank next to me? Because it’s just me, wild-eyed and my hair unbrushed, at the Petsmart in old gym shorts and flip flops?

Day Four. I want to feed them but I can’t until day five. I want to feed them bad. I want their faces—if they have them—to beam and shine at me when I walk into the room, eagerly doing back flips for a pinch of food. But the instructions in the kit say no, that mis-feeding them will kill them. The instructions are like the mean mommy of this whole operation.

And there are a lot of instructions about what you can’t do. They’re like raising a Mogwai. You can’t place them in direct sunlight. You can’t feed them more than once a week. You can’t feed them anything other than their food. You can’t put them in a bigger tank. You’re not supposed to add non-Transcience approved things to their tank. Sea Monkeys are fragile, and not particularly resilient–not like goldfish, which can handle tons of abuse.

Day Five. I need a name for them. There are too many to keep track of individually, so I think I should name as an entity. The girlfriend suggests I call them the Hoopty Wagon, because the ornamental rocks and submarine in their plastic tank is like a 1994 Toyota dressed up with rims. I like it. The Hooptys.

Also on day five, I can finally feed them. Unbridled excitement. I carefully measure a scoop of the green-colored particles from packet number three, and drop it in. I expect them to all race towards the food and eat all of it immediately, but instead they just strangely flagellate around the tank, as though nothing has changed. I wish there was a way to command them. SEA MONKEYS…GO. That didn’t work. Um. Let’s try this. SEA MONKEYS…DO.

Sea Monkeys: The Movie Part 2. They’re bigger.

And so my experiences as a Sea Monkey parent continue. (It’s Day Eight, and I only have about seven Sea Monkeys currently alive.) I’m not sure how the others died, but I think it’s probably the pink rocks. And yet the seven that remain seem very hearty.

I just hope they live long enough until the Sea Diamonds and Bananas arrive in the mail. Otherwise, I’ll have to eat them myself. And if the girlfriend completely freaks over me eating Sea Monkey food, I’ll tell her to relax. It’s for the blog.

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20 responses to “We’re Having Sea Monkeys

  1. On behalf of everyone whose parents were too mean to let them have sea monkeys, I thank you for sharing! :D We can live vicariously through you!

  2. I think sea monkeys make noises we can’t hear. When I had them as a kid, my dog would just stare at the little tank and then start crying and barking at them. I can’t imagine that my dog could see the little baby shrimp darting around high up on a shelf.

  3. I had the same sea monkey kit in college. But, my cat knocked it over. Into her litter box. I called it a burial at pee.

  4. I just got a little misty-eyed…

  5. Those guys are pretty cool. When I was a kid, I wanted sea monkeys. I didn’t know they were shrimp. I thought they were tiny swimming monkeys. As I got older , reading more comic books, I found out the truth. They still seem pretty neat though.

    In the second video…is there a Mario figure or toy behind the tank? I see res overalls and a blue shirt with yellow buttons and white gloves. I know Marios overalls are blue and his shirt red, but maybe it’s bootleg or something.

  6. geez, I feel like I should give you a prize for recognizing a section of Mario through the lens of a watery tank further blurred by youtube compression.

    Yeah, it’s this guy – http://cgi.ebay.com/APPLAUSE-SUPER-MARIO-DOLL-1989-12-VINYL-FACE-NEAT-/120606214805?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0#ht_2186wt_1137

  7. Is it just me, or does that submarine bear an uncomfortable resemblance to the one used for shots in “The Neptune Factor”?

    That movie still gives me nightmares, and not because it was scary…

    It’s good to see that you’re making friends, Pizza! Even if the friends are non-sentient sea creatures.

  8. I had sea monkeys as a kid, and I really like them, even if they are just brine shrimp. I’ve never heard of anyone keeping them alive for too long, so good luck to you surfing pizza!

    If it makes you feel any better about your misadventures at the pet store when you mentioned you needed things for sea monkeys, I broke down crying trying to ask if there was anything I could do for my hamster when she had wet tail. Like bawling my eyes out. The girl in the rodent section was nice about it though.

    I don’t know why they’d look at you funny over sea monkeys. Hell, that’s still a pet.

  9. I’m thinking on getting sea monkeys for me and my kids. i was just wondering somthing. I have a small treasure chest that is meant for tanks that also blows air. Am I able to give that to the sea monkeys

    • Yeah, they might like playing around it. I wouldn’t put anything in there that involves sucking or pulling from the water in the tank. It will grind them up.

  10. cool!!! im 13 and i was kinda planning to buy sea monkeys. so i just searched the net for more information about them. i thought they were just organisms like jelly that react when you put the food in so they will look alive and move around. now that i know they have life,… its so COOL. i will surely buy one. thnks for all the tips

  11. I never got the opportunity to have sea-monkeys when I was a kid either… a travesty I am now trying to rectify. You know, for my son. lol Our first tank did quiet well until mommy had to do the unthinkable one day and go clean out the closets. During that time my .. err, HIS sea-monkeys confided in him their deep desire to go sky-diving. He was all to happy to oblige, of course. Our second tank is about a month old and going well.
    I surfed over here from google when trying to figure out what the sea diamonds were supposed to do… other than sink to the bottom. I’m happy to see that other adults indulging their inner child with the whim of sea-monkeys!
    Have fun!

    • I too never had sea monkeys as a kid. So, my adult son bought them for me recently :D
      So far, so good…
      Although quite small still, I really enjoy watching them!

  12. i just got seamonkies 2days ago and i am so excited what there going to look like.

  13. I have sea-monkeys; they are heartily surviving and they have been for a solid month. I love them sooo much, and have an instant connection with them. I feed them once a week, every seven days, so they don’t die of suffocation, and I do have the million-bubble air pump. It works great! They love the ride. Sea-monkeys really are one of the world’s greatest pets; many people just don’t understand the joy and excitement of raising little baby ‘monks’. I’m sorry about your sea-monkeys Pizza. Sometimes the packaging just isn’t right; I got mine from Walmart.

  14. I ran across this page whilst googling a way to fix my seamonkey submarine light which mysteriously broke six hours after I got it (probably from overuse). My boyfriend got me seamonkys for my twentieth birthday and I adore the three that have sucessfully hatched so far. Thanks for recording your seamonkey adventures; they’re both hilarious and very relatable.

  15. Hi we have some sea monkeys and we dont have a million air bubble pump so do u know any home remedies for making bubbles for these monkeys to breathe?

  16. Ha ha good one

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