"Fishing..." (Oh, so Loosely Stated....)

Friday nights over supper, all of us typically make plans together as a family, as to what we are going to do the following day for our Family Day.  Ideas get thrown around, Kev and I assess our energy levels...and our budget, the forecast is checked, and voila!  Usually, something is agreed upon fairly easily, and we are off to the races...so to speak.

The traditional Family Day breakfast...

This time of year, fishing season is just barely upon us, and I fully realize that I am completely outnumbered when it comes to the epic enthusiasm from all male parties represented under this roof upon the realization of this fact.  And upon even further realization that a local river has been stocked with trout, and that Saturday was going to be gorgeous weather-wise, well the plan of what would be taking place first thing in the morning was really a no brainer.

Inhaled in 2.5 seconds...

And whilst tucking my wee cherubs into bed for the night, I was also, quite emphatically informed by all three Hoolies that they would NOT be impressed if London decided to make her debut during the nighttime hours before the fishing expedition was able to get underway.  I said I would see what I could do.  No pressure...

My life for the rest of the summer...

Well, the day dawned bright and beautiful.  We were jumped upon by three small Bedheads around 6:30 a.m. very seriously telling us that "the best fishing is first thing in the morning..." and so we stumbled out of bed, made the coffee and the pancakes, and hit the road by 8:30.  Unshowered, of course.  It's the way I so love to roll.  (Not so much at all...but the patience meter on fishing days is quite low in my home).

Oh so picturesque...But wait...their lines are caught on each other.  Good times.

Picnic packed.  Van loaded.  Wormies purchased.
And thus began our first family fishing adventure of the season.
And it was Epic.

This is Ransom's first year of fishing with a real worm and a real hook.  In previous years, he had been more interested in throwing rocks or "pretend" fishing with the little red plastic fish that came with his pole.  Well, this year, he was bound and determined to be a "big boy," which is cool.  Except for the fact, that this three year old has a firecracker of a temper, he is stubborn as all get-out, and he has the patience of a gnat.

So, after two failed attempts at casting...what does my child do?  Well, in disgust, he chucks his pole right into the rushing river...and his 38 week pregnant Mama has to dive over the rocks and grab it by the line before it got swept away for good.  Finally, after reeling in about 20 feet of line...and after getting his hook stuck in my down vest...and after finally retrieving said fishing pole of glory...

...and after utilizing every last bit of self control to not send Ransom into the brink right along with his pole... (just kidding, but only a little bit)...thus ended my wee one's day of fishing.

"Thorry, Mama.  I won't do that again."  

Back to throwing rocks he went for the remainder of our adventure.
We shall pick it up again next time.
Ho-ly Hannah.

Rock throwing.

Next on the list of funsies, Jesse proceeded to slip on a rock and fall in up to his waist....upon which I laughed... which made him really mad at me.  So, to make up for it, I told him I would bait his hook for him because he kept losing his worms.  This assuaged his being miffed at me...but before I was quite ready for him to take his pole back...he took it anyway, and proceeded to hook me - worm and all - in my huge head of hair...in which I became slightly miffed at him...and Kev had to come and ream on my hair, which just happened to be that delicately painful hair located by my temples...during which the entire time he kept asking:  "How did?....What?...How in the?...."

Now you see him...now you don't.  Plus, his line is caught on bottom, just for good measure.

I yelled loud and he laughed hard.
And it was really awesome.

After that, I decided not to hang around to see if Kaden wanted to hook me, as well; and instead I started throwing rocks with Ransom.  Far far away from the Large Ones and their runaway hooks.

Finally, after a couple of hours of catching nothing but the bottom every. other. cast., we got a call from our friend telling us that we were at the "wrong bridge" where the fish had been stocked, and that he and his son were at the "right bridge."  They had only been there just a little while, and they had already caught their limit.  Good times...

So, over to the proper location we drove...where Kev finally did reel us in one nice little trouty...and where the boys continued to keep catching the bottom...and each other...and where after another hour or so, we decided it was time to wrap things up for the day and maybe head home.

It's what's for lunch...er...snack.

First fishing trip down in the books.
A success?  Well....a fish was caught, I guess.
And when asked if the boys had fun, we were answered with three resounding:  "OH yeah's!!!"
To which Kev and I looked at each other and asked:  "Did WE have fun?"
In which we replied to each other:  "We think so....??"

 And then I took a nap.

And when I woke up, Kev had tackled our garage of atrociousness and made it all super spiffy, we got our deck all set up with our table and chairs, and the weather was still oh so glorious.  So, I ran to the store for chicken sausages and ice cream cones - determined to keep Family Day a celebration - and it did end up feeling that way, after all.  A fun little bonfire, supper outside, three boys running free, ice cream cones for dessert, showers for the Hoolies, and campouts in their beds together.

Peace once again reigns supreme.

Phew.

A quick game of Cribbage for Kev and I.
And then a 7:30 bedtime for us both!
Love-o-ly.

Sometimes, Family Days are exhausting...