Yesterday, I had a daughter-mom date with my fishing buddy.
We had just got back from the dentist, with some not so good news. Her teeth have little holes in them, aka cavities. My daughter was told that her teeth were just made for those stupid cavities, no matter how much brushing was involved.
So when we got home, I asked her “Want to go fishing?”
Before I even had a chance to look up to see if she had heard me – she had grabbed the worms and poles and was at the front door. I guess that was an affirmative.
I made the boys go at first, but they didn’t stay long.
I finally consented to let them go back to the house after much torture for me and whining, but told my youngest to leave his fishing pole. I could handle two. He gave me strict instructions and even showed me how to leave the pole in the chair, so if there was a huge fish, the chair would catch it and the pole wouldn’t go in the lake. I just laughed and thought I can handle this pole mister! You just go back up to the house and leave this fishing to your sister and me.
Well…
I was uploading a photo to Instagram…this one.
Then it happened…
The pole just starting scooting across the stained, sun faded dock…
toward the water…
in very slow motion…
CUE THE DRAMATIC MUSIC
and it didn’t stop…
even as I lunged for it…getting a splinter and causing excruciating pain in my hand…
While my sweet girl yells “Mommmmm….” And the local fishermen look on while they get exercise as they have a good belly laugh.
But it was too late…
The pole slips off into the deep lake apparently being drug along by a fish the size of Jonah’s whale…
Ahem.
I called my husband to let him know the bad news:
“Honey, I don’t want you to be mad.
What happened?
Your daughter and I are fishing.
Laughing – Oh, I so am mad, I want to be there too!
That is not the reason to be mad. I caught a fish. Well, a fish caught my pole. The pole is now in the abyss of the lake and I lost the stupid pole. The pole is now in the lake. It was our baby’s pole. He no longer has a pole. It was all my fault.
Laughing – “It is just a pole. No big deal.”
Okay, fine. It was not that good of pole anyway. Blah…blah…blah…I love you, goodbye.
So we continue to fish.
We actually listened to Grace Church podcasts and tons of praise and worship songs. Time flew by…
I have no idea how many fish were caught. I just enjoyed being with my sweet girly.
THEN the phone rang…
AND my fishing pole got a bite at the same time….I never tire of that feeling of a bump wondering what it could be because you can’t see what is biting. (Side note: I wish someone would invent sunglasses that you can see underwater and watch all those fish swim by my lonely bait.)
“Mom, it is me, your second born.
Hi! I’m kind of busy…do you need something?
Should I take a shower?
I don’t care. I’m catching a fish right now.
Dad’s home. So, should I take a shower right now?
I’m taking in a fish…oh this is weird. I think I caught a…what is that?….
I think it is a…fishing line.
Oh wow! It is a fishing line.
It is your brother’s pole – the one the lake swallowed. I’ve caught the missing fishing pole.
Tell your Dad I found the pole. Oh my – the pole still has the fish! My bait is gone. Something else ate my bait and I caught a pole with a fish! I’m awesome!
Send your Dad right away!
So a shower, Mom? Mom???!?!”
AND that folks is how I reign as the Fishing Pole Queen and that crown belongs to me, probably never to be taken away!
Blessings to you! You are loved!
