We went fishing.......

My grandson was chomping at the bits to go fishing today. We bought him is own Zebco reel and rod and he has seen all the grea****ers ways we have with the Chattahoochie River and he could not wait till Monday for us to go camping to try it all out. His granfather came home from Tn with a cold and just not feeling well. So I made an agreement with Dalton that if Grandpa did not feel up to it, I would take him to the fishing area that is reserved for kids under 12 only to fish. That I would take him and sit in the sun and read a book as I "ain't no fisherman". Well grandpa said he needed to go take a nap so we went. We got there and I walked down to the water with him and he tried to cast off. It went 3 feet and ploped in the water. He tried several times, he said ," Grandma, why don't you try it.?" So being the good "new" grandma I tried. It ploped down not far from us. So I said, maybe you need to just keep trying. So he did and I went up the bank to sit in my chair. An hour later he says, "the fish are not biting here, let's go somewhere else". So we went to an area a little ways up river in a park. There was a man sitting on the rocks and Dalton headed towards him with his rod and reel and bucket. He comes back about 3o min later and says, "look, I have crawldaddy's! Fish like to eat them, now I can catch some fish." Poor guy, he never caught any fish but it was fun being out with him and watching him and hearing him say grandma, grandma. I sure hope he stays sweet and as he gets older the world does not corrupt him.

such a sweet memory you just gave him (and you too!) I have that very sweet boy, he is 11 and would do anything to spend the day with his Nana. I am glad he has those memories to hold onto! Congratulations on being the gramma! nic

Yes Nic it is a very sweet memory. I printed the note to show Alton his grandpaw. He was excited too .

Hi Martha, hope Alden's feeling better. You sound like you are in your element being a Grandma! I thought you might appreciate this - the very first article I wrote for Living Normal column in WLSLifestyles Magazine, I think it was published in 2005! Your post reminded me so much of that day for me and Devin: Diana's Pool "Puh-LEEZ, Mom???" What mother worth her salt can resist this familiar plea from her child? He wasn't asking for money or the keys to the car, he wasn't seeking permission to access a suspect computer game or watch an inappropriate movie on cable TV. He simply wanted to go fishing. With me. I was exhausted. It had been a difficult week at the office compounded by a morning of fighting with my husband. I needed a respite, some quiet time. I wanted to be left alone. But I have taught my 12year-old son well; he knows to never give up unless he is absolutely forced to so we headed out with our gear and nightcrawlers to Devin's special place. We entered the mouth of the path that led to Diana's Pool, distinguished by a sign that proclaimed, "Trophy Trout." And treacherous trails. I had never been invited to Diana's Pool before and now I understood why. The sinewy paths were a maze of rocks and boulders and fallen tree limbs, a vertical climb that would most likely fatigue a gazelle. Devin knew that I would not have been able to hike it at my previous weight, which topped 360 pounds. We moved deeper into the woods and I became acutely aware of the sounds of nature: the rushing water, the twigs snapping under my sneakers, my son's breathing as he forged ahead in front of me. At one point I nearly went down but not because of my weight--I had merely lost my footing. I was otherwise strong and ably keeping step with my son who suddenly exclaimed, "We're here, Mom!" After an uphill climb of at least a mile, perhaps more, I found myself in a clearing of unprecedented natural beauty. My son stood on a boulder and extended his arms in a gesture of joyful pride for having brought his mother to this special place. It was breathtaking, a recessed pool surrounded by several cascading diminutive waterfalls and rocks and ledge of every size. Different species of flora hung over the water strategically as if hand-picked and delicately positioned by Rembrandt or Van Gogh. I unfolded a blanket onto one of the flatter surfaces and cautiously began to lower myself with some trepidation. What if I was unable to get back up? Would my young son be strong enough to pull me to my feet if I could not stand on my own? Falling as a super-morbidly obese person had been one of my greatest fears and for a moment, I was seized by familiar feelings of panic and dread. I settled easily, however, and realized that my body was lean and fit at 142 pounds and no longer hindered me. I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sun and focused on the sound of my son's line hitting the water as he cast over and over again: plop, whir, snap...plop, whir, snap. The rhythm of the sound was as natural and healthy as my heartbeat. We stayed for an hour or so and when it came time to leave, I lifted myself easily from the blanket feeling blessed and renewed. Devin did not catch a trophy trout and I lost my favorite pair of sunglasses. But I gained so much more. And when we returned home, Devin said simply, "You did awesome, Mom." And before we could finish our crooked smiles, he begged, "Can we go out in the canoe now? Puh-LEEZ, MOM???"