Fishing is fun (and other not so true stories at our house)

Well, it’s been a while since I took the time to write down an Amanda-ism, so I guess I will share a little story about today (now a few months ago).

My days are never really ordinary and I don’t expect that anymore. It’s just not my normal. That’s okay, we take it in strides. Really it would just be assonine to think that our normal is well…normal. This time, it all started when I got home and I found the hubby outside working on cutting down some trees. You give that man a power tool and he will fucking find stuff to cut down (Ok, fine, it’s not hard, our house is surrounded by the woods and many projects).

I had forgotten that tonight was his night to be on his own and yes, he wanted his night on his own to be at our house, so that gets a little tricky at times. I used to get mad at him about it, but he is a homebody and I can’t argue with that. I just do my best to keep the kids by me or at least the hardest ones to maintain and let him do his thing. We take turns, but I choose to usually go somewhere or go out with another human. We’re just different and that’s okay.

Well, my life is a lot like the If You Give a Mouse a Cookie books and that is pretty much how the evening unfolded, with a twist. Duh, there is always a twist, not always painful but yeah, a lot of the times it hurts. This particular evening while the hubby was cutting down trees by the chicken coop, the kids and I were playing with the chicks and ducks (as much as you can play with those pooping, awkward little things.) I mentioned that we should take the ducks to the pond and Shannon concurred that it was a good idea. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if we should because I don’t know, I’m not a total country chick as of yet and had no clue. That’s when I realized that ducks, in fact, are not usually domesticated and can survive out in the wild as young as day one. I know, it sounds silly, but these things don’t always cross my worrisome mind. They have become like our extended family of babies.

So anyways, my oldest and I brought Mr. Quakers and Banana back to the pond. It was pretty flipping cool to watch them figure out the water and dig into the mud to find their very own gooey buggy treats. The sounds they made were hilarious but they were as happy as….well, ducks in water. Continuing on..

Grayson saw the pond and thought, “Hey, we should go fishing!”

Then, comes the trek back to the barn to find the tangled fishing rods that Mommy must untangle. While mommy is untangling, one certain boy decides that he would like to open up the tackle box. We are quickly reminded that Daddy bought the wonderful Chicken’s Blood fishing lures that smell like rotten spoiled shit on a hot summer’s day. He then decides that he must do everything one-handed and in the process dumps all of the contents of the tackle box all over the barn floor for little sister to inspect. Mommy then has to stop untangling and start cleaning up without piercing skin from the hooks. All of this while trying to fend off little sister that wants to be a big helper and gets very upset and starts screaming because Mommy will not let her touch the pointy dirty hooks. Oh, the fun.

Mommy then decides to curse Daddy as she is trying not to gag from the raunchy smell and then goes and gets many bags to throw away the chicken blood that hubby insisted on keeping because it was ten bucks. I truly don’t care if it was 100, that stuff is rank!

OK, so we finally have fishing poles untangled, let’s go back to the pond. Oh, wait…nope, first, the toddler insists she must try to use her ride-on car that is not charged and has a little meltdown. OK, continuing on, with two- year old in a stroller that is not meant to trek through the grass.

All is well. The ducks are in the pond. The boys are fighting over who gets to use the fishing pole ( we have a few but Tristan did not show interest until little brother was ready to go) and the dogs are running around.

OK, well we get a few rods in and we have a tangle. Of course. Par for the course.

Oh well… flash forward to going back and getting yet another fishing pole. Toddler decides she wants to fish so mommy helps her. Dogs keep jumping up at the lures and trying to get them. I keep doing my best to keep them away but low and behold…

Yup, what you’re thinking is right: Aubrey caught something and it was not a fish. Nope, it was in fact an overzealous boxer mix that wanted to get that bobber so flipping bad. Well, he got it alright. Right in his upper lip.

Trying to keep the overzealous boxer calm I tell Grayson to go get Daddy. Before he runs to get him he starts crying and saying that he does not want Joeker to die. I try not to laugh. He just has a pierced mouth and I know things like this are a bigger deal when you are little.

At this point in time, Joeker is now bouncing around and yelping and I am just trying to cut the line so that he isn’t bouncing around with a fishing rod earring hanging off of his mouth. You also can imagine that because of the commotion he has now jammed the hook further into his mouth, making it harder to remove. Yay.

Shannon makes it over and we take turns holding Joeker and trying to pry it out of his mouth. It took us a few tries to realize that we also needed to cover his eyes while holding him because he cannot handle the chaos and freaks out the more he sees. Two kids crying, two adults cursing and one dog yelping. Sounds like a Christmas song or a bad joke. You decide.

So, I’m covering his eyes and trying to hold him, Shannon is trying to pull out the hook. Nope. My turn to try. Nope. Shannon tries again but with plyers and of course it breaks it off and it is still stuck in there. We have to bring him back closer to the house to try something new. We later find that we caught that part on our door camera and we watch for comic relief. Because? Why not?

This is the point where Aubrey realizes that the dog is bleeding and she starts screaming and crying as loud as she can. Great.

Little sis loves country living

In the end, we got it out, I cleaned it up and he bled all over the house for extra measure. I mean, would you expect any less.

Needless to say, when someone combines the words fishing and relaxing in a sentence, we laugh. That’s all we can do to get through our constant controlled chaos.

#ourlife #fishing #controlledchaos #country #countryliving #funnystories