So . . . who knew disaster could start with one simple sentence.
"I wanna go fishin," said my youngest.
We were coming home from church last Sunday and my oldest asked if we could go to the park. I said, "Are you kidding? Its like 105 degrees outside and you want to go running around a park?" (I was thinking of his eczema and his asthma.) So he says that "it's a fact that if you are close to water its cooler". I snorted. But, catching the drift, my youngest says, "I wanna go fishin." Now, he's been saying this for the last 8 or 9 months. But on this day, my husband takes the bait.
"Let's go fishing!" he says. He turns to look at me and asks, "Do you want to go?"
This is where I should have said, "Absolutely not!" but what I said was, "Sure, I guess so."
We get home and immediately start changing clothes. I'm telling the kids, "something lightweight, that will dry fast if you get wet" and sending them back to the room to change when they come out in jeans and tshirts. "Think swim trunks, guys!" Lots of groans and mumbling, then, there they are, in swim trunks and swim shirts. I'm packing sandwich stuff, and drinks, looking for sunscreen, recommending hats, retrieving cool ties, locking up the dogs, turning off lights, locking the back door. When I'm done I go to change my clothes because I'm the only one still in church clothes.
We go outside to get in the truck and decide where to go, since we have to shop for lifevests. I'm not a fan of WalMart, but its closer and we need to get gone because it is getting hotter by the minute. While we are shopping for lifevests my husband is mumbling about needing a battery to run the trolling motor and making a list of other necessaries. We end up back home to get the battery off the welding machine and my husband gets sidetracked by the trailer hitch. I have a 1 1/2 inch ball on my hitch, and he needs a 1 7/8 to fit the boat trailer. So he's got to figure out how to get the hitch out of my truck so he can put his universal hitch on it. (The crazy thing was, the guy we bought the truck from had put a lock on the hitch and then lost the key when he sold us the truck.) My husband decides to use his welding gear and just cut the lock off. {{Sigh}} So, there he is, sweating, stripped down to the waist and going to work (so we can "go fishin"). He gets the lock cut off, and pulls his hitch to put on my truck and it DOESN'T fit. Can anyone say "Murphy's Law"? He's out there just cussing and upset and trying to make it fit. I grab his cooler and put what I can in it, but it's too small {sigh, again} and so we have to use my cooler which is at his parents place. Well, we're going there anyway, to get the boat. (We live in town with no where to store his toys.) So my husband tosses the hitch in back of the truck, and off we go.
We get to his parents house and he pulls into some shade (which was not available at my house) and proceeds to fight the trailer hitch. His brother pulls up, my husband calls him over to help, and I decide the HOUSE is where I'm gonna be. While visiting with the family, there is much banging going on outside, but I'm going to wait it out.
After a while, my husband comes in to tell us its time to go and "oh, by the way Mom, someone's been on your property and cut a huge portion out of your garden hose and they stole my new gas tank for the boat." {sigh} Apparently, upon discovering that the gas tank was gone, he decided to use another older one, which he discovered was broken and promptly poured out all the gas he put in it. {{Sigh}} I don't even ask about the trailer hitch. When we get in the truck, I see it's in and leave THAT subject alone.
We drive to a neighboring town and go to another WalMart {{HUGE Sigh}}. We have to buy another gas tank for the boat, after all. Not to mention a fishing rod for my oldest, some weights, some oil, a tool of some sort and a boat plug. You know, I packed the lunch to save money. Really?
We check out, drive off, pull into a gas station. I get the ice and load my cooler (which I picked up at the in-laws). He switches the gas tanks, puts in the plug, pumps gas and adds the oil, and off we go.
We get to the lake (it was very nearby) and put in. I park the truck and get to the dock. When I go to get in the boat, it rocks, and my youngest just squeals in fear. "Don't make it move!" This is the kid who wanted "to go fishin"? {{Sigh}}
After much freaking out that the darn boat rocks too much and about an hour and a half, my youngest gets a nibble (off the lunch meat I packed for lunch, by the way) and he gets excited. He's sure he's going to catch a fish! I don't even want to think about what he's going to do if he catches one. But it's so hot, that probably won't happen. We spend another two hours chasing the elusive bite and then pack it in to go home.
Later, I learn that the hitch was sledge hammered in (it's not coming out, ever), that my husband tore a muscle in his chest wall while putting the boat in (and requires medication), we never did get the battery for the trolling motor, and that my youngest "can't wait to go again!"
Well, when I'm asked if I'm going, that's when I'll say "Not just no, but NO WAY!"
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