This past weekend the fam and I decided to head down to the Florida Keys for some fishing and what was to be a day of fun in the sun. My in-laws have a cozy place in Key Largo, that the hubby and I used to visit almost every weekend in my BC (before children) days. He grew up going to the Keys and living the “salt life,” and I also grew up going to our beach house in Brazil almost every weekend. Naturally, we love the water and all the fun that comes with it.
But first let’s backtrack…. Our son has been OBSESSED with fishing. He wanted a fishing birthday party, got a new rod for his birthday, and you may find him at any time playing with bait in his tackle box (no, this isn’t code word for his other obsession of touching his wiener.) His new go-to show is about fishing, and that little man has made me be around dead squid more than I want to admit. As the only boy in a house of chicks, we try to give him as much “manly” time as possible, so he can get get a good balance of make up techniques and smelly sports. Future awesome husband in the making… You’re welcome, little ladies.
My father-in-law had borrowed a friend’s boat, and we decided to join him in taking it out for a ride and taking the kids on a fishing adventure. “Borrowed” boats that were made before I was should have been an indication of the upcoming events, but of course hindsight is 20/20. We packed up half the house, a handful of tablets, snacks galore, and headed on the hour long drive to the tropical paradise island.
My oldest, Izzy, decided to stay behind a the beach house with my mother-in-law, and me, hubby, son, 2 young daughters (5 and 3), and father-in-law got in the boat, along with coolers, chairs, rods, cameras, life jackets, bait, more coolers, and everything but the kitchen sink. Since the boat was as prehistoric as I am, there were not many amenities such as seats. Who needs those anyways? As soon as we were out, my five year old started to freak out. Again, thank you universe, for all the signs I blatantly ignored. I held her tight throughout the ride until we got to a good spot.
Immediately upon “parking” the dino boat, I knew something bad was about to happen. I was so seasick, the girls were cranky, and of course dear hubby started fishing and didn’t pay any mind to his paranoid wife. Within minutes, all of which I tried to tell myself I would not vomit and chum the waters, he had caught a fish. And immediately after, my son caught another, and then all hell broke loose. Remember that overpacked boat? The lack of seats? The photog wife who must take pictures of everything? Well, in an attempt to capture my boy reeling his fish in, I grabbed my camera and “tried” to step over a couple of rods that were lying on the floor (refer to old boat with zero rod holders.) When I crossed my left leg over, something sharp sticking out of a reel impelled my leg. Yes, you read that right. The reel caught me. A human. No bait necessary. Somehow I managed to take a couple of pics before realizing I had hurt myself, which happened when I looked down to see what I thought was a little scratch, and saw a PUDDLE of blood and what looked like my insides hanging on my outsides. Barf!
As I tried to not vomit/poop myself/bleed to death/faint, I called hubby over and he immediately decided I wasn’t indeed overreacting and we had to go to the hospital. He took off his bait-smeared tank top, tied it on my leg, and back to shore we went. You know what’s more difficult than crashing the waves with screaming kids? Doing all that while trying not to pass out. The kids were freaked, I was in pain, and hubby was cracking jokes because that’s his talent when he’s nervous. He actually texted our neighbor later on saying it wasn’t the first time I had gotten impelled by a huge rod. Hubby of the year, I tell ya.
Fast forward 4 hours and 4 stitches later, plus a tetanus shot and some strong antibiotics for fun and giggles, and we bust out of that hospital door ready for life’s new adventures. After all, thanks to that shot and meds that I can’t pronounce, I am now covered against malaria, chlamydia, and maybe the bubonic plague.
So you may now ask, how is there any silver lining to this? Well my friends, I came to find out the speedy vessel that we were on, which had hit the water with us for those long 47 minutes for the first time in a while, was rapidly taking in water and SINKING. Yes. Titanic called, they want their story line back. It became clear to me that my near-death experience (drama queen alert!) was indeed an enormous blessing that saved us from being featured in the news as the family missing in the ocean. Had we been out fishing as originally planned, that old, rusty, antique floating device would have sank with my precious babies in it, hubby included, and the thought of that is much worse than getting stabbed by a reel and by that nurse practitioner with the heavy hand.
Now I am left with a sore leg, shirtless hubby, and a huge sense of appreciation for the injury that saved us all. I may love the salt life, but it surely fell out of love with me.
Until next rant,
Salty Patty