Leave Mom Alone!

[rememory]

Everyone knows that a cabin vacation is really no vacation for Mom. There's still the cooking and cleaning, beds to make, dishes to wash, and, if you stay long enough, laundry. But, our yearly trek to a cabin in Vermont has always been a treasure, 'cause I just LOVE to fish.<br><br>I will confess, though, that there are times when I think the rest of the family is plotting against me. And Mother Nature throws in her share of wet days and nasty winds. But, every chance I get, I grab my pole, some good old worms, net and tackle and head for the dock. Actually, the dock is right outside the back door of the cabin. And, from there, I can monitor whatever other activity is going on with the kids, my husband, or the dog. They don't seem to realize that I can usually hear what's being said on the porch or that the reflection in the water gives me those proverbial "eyes in the back of my head".<br><br>The reverse does not seem to occur. There have been many times that I've yelled and screamed for someone to come help me because whatever I'm trying to haul in is just too big for me to handle. It's usually one of our cabin neighbors who comes to my rescue, holding the net down into the water as I "land" another big one. <br><br>I've gained quite a reputation over the past 10 years. Many of the die-hard anglers will sit on their porches and watch me casting from the end dock. If I start catching fish, they all come running to their boats because the fish are "bitin' good". And they usually come back a few hours later empty handed except for their huge, expensive collections of lures and riggings. They always poke fun at "me and my worms", but I'm usually the one with several king size bass and a northern pike or two.<br><br>A few years ago, I overheard just how my family viewed my passion for fishing. I'd had a very disappointing day - cool and rainy, kids arguing, dog limping, out of milk and clean underwear. Finally, late in the afternoon, the sun peeked out. As I grabbed my gear and headed out the back door, my husband asked me what I had planned for dinner. I simply told him "FISH" and walked on. As my first baited cast hit the water, I overheard my son making a fuss about his sister and he was certain that I needed to know the details. As he started for the door, his father gave a command I will never forget. "Leave Mom Alone!" he said in his strictest tone. "She's Fishin'."<br><br>I know I had a great on my face and I stayed, uninterupted, on the dock until the mosquitoes chased me home. My husband cleaned my catch (several nice bass) while I prepared the rest of our meal and heated the big iron skillet to fry the fillets. Everybody pitched in to clear the table and my husband and son washed the dishes. And so began a new custom in our yearly trek to Vermont. One we refer to as "The Leave Mom Alone Dinner".<br><br>Submit your Fishing Adventure Stories to win great prizes at ReMemory.Com