One of the things I love most about motherhood is the adventure it takes us on. Last week, I was able to add a few thousand words to a work in progress story. I spent one of those days taking a trip to a local pond with my son’s preschool class to go fishing.
For the two preceeding days before our fishing trip, my son and the children in his preschool learned about fish and made their own fishing poles using wooden rods and strings. They were kind enough to make one for my youngest, who tags along on most every field trip. This one no exception.
Our fishing trip began by dropping off my oldest at the bus stop and waving her off for a day of second grade. Then with two little ones still in the back, I head to my husband’s office a the nearby college. I pulled up in the service vehicle parking lot, a bad habit over these past years, and together we walked lunch to him.
My son was excited, everyone we passed you proudly exclaimed, “I’m going fishin’.”
My husband gave us all hugs, but said to my son. “If you don’t catch a fish, that’s okay.” He repeated it several times as my son went on to tell him he was going to catch four fish: one for each of his sisters, one for his papa, and one for me (momma).
When we came back out to our vehicle we were trapped. My son began to cry. We sat in our vehicle singing songs and listening to children’s bible hymns as a large truck unloaded dozens of Dell computers. The driver was nice, he offered to move his truck so that I could get out, except for the two police vehicles that had parked behind him and prevented such action.
We were trapped, and as the minutes ticked by, over a dozen children were standing at a pond fishing with their parents and having fun without us. I felt like kicking myself for parking in the same spot I always do to run in lunch to my husband. If the man would only stay at home long enough in the morning to grab it before he left, right? That didn’t help the situation, some habits are hard to break, like my son’s heart as he was missing his fishing trip.
A half hour later, when the police pulled out and the driver moved his truck, we headed to the fishing pond at a nearby park. One of the things my son’s preschool teacher had said to me was, “We’ve never caught a fish yet.”
Several girls, with the help of manufactured fishing poles, real bait broke that record. My son, however, didn’t catch a fish in the ten minutes left of fishing we engaged in.
There were plenty of ducks though, to keep one distracted from catching fish, as my youngest spent more time calling out to them than she did holding her fishing pole.
After all that fishing, it was time to head over to the park for a snack and story time. While my son sat around the circle with his class listening to his teacher read them a book, my youngest insisted on being pushed on a nearby swing.
Going home was much more difficult, my son wailed the whole way to the car and even on the drive home. My youngest tried to console her brother by saying, “It’s okay Chi, It’s okay.”
“But I want to go fishing.” He cried.
“Another day,” I promised. “Fish like children need their afternoon naps, and mothers need their quiet time to reflect and write about the days passed.”
All tears forgotten, as we pulled up through Wendy’s for frosties. By the time I pulled into our driveway, one sleepy-eyed girl crawled into my arms and as we curled up for our “quiet time” a little boy was fast asleep dreaming about going fishing.
Today, we’re off to the planetarium!