Over the Labor Day Weekend, we went to a mini-family reunion with my husband's family. Lindsey and Sam have a boat and were gracious enough to drag our family around the lake. The big kids did a little of this:
The little kids did a little of this:
And our youngest one did a little of this:
The big kids also tried their hand and knee boarding. They all had a great time doing something that rarely get to try.
When I was seventeen, I dated a serious water-skier. He was actually a barefoot skier, which was a beast all its own. The whole family loved being out on the lake so when Russ and I started dating, it was a given that I would have to learn how to water ski. I caught on quickly and loved it.
My dad has always tried to take an interest of one child and turn it into family time. He, too, had loved water skiing as a youngster and when he saw that I was loving it, he bought a boat. It wasn't the newest or fanciest boat, but it had a big engine and held the promise of many fun hours on the water.
We went frequently over the next couple of years. We lived only about twenty minutes from our favorite local lake so we didn't restrict skiing to the weekend. Two or three hours in the evening was just as worthy if the wind was low and the water glassy. My parents and the two kids still at home (Levi and I) had a ball together while learning that sport.
Dad sold the boat after I left for college. I'm not the type of person to beg rides from friends--especially now that gas is so freaking expensive. Plus, water skiing is not a sport for pregnant woman and pregnancy has consumed a huge amount of my past thirteen years. Long story short, with one short exception, I hadn't skied in about fifteen years.
I wanted to ski this weekend. Sam and Lindsey didn't have a ski, but they did have a wake board. Better than nothing, I thought. No one on the boat had ever gotten up on a wake board so no one could tell me how to do it or what I was doing wrong when I couldn't get up. I knew I was starting to get it so I kept trying. It took me about ten times of trying to move the whole lake out of the way before I was finally riding on top of the water.
Seventeen and a track star is a lot different than thirty-four and mother of six. My muscles were just not there. Sore isn't quite the right word. But, oh my gosh. That was fun!