A Fun Saturday Afternoon Boat Ride

"It's up to you, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why are you abdicating responsibility to me?" my husband asked. Long pause.

"Because I don't want to let my fear get in the way of our kids experiencing life," I said. "I just think Nemo is too young and too active and that this isn't a safe situation."

"Oh, I think he'll be alright. Besides, if he falls in, we'll just go in after him and get him."

And with that, my brilliant, wonderful husband and I took our four kids under the age of 10, including one very active 2 1/2 year old boy, out on Lake Marburg in a pontoon boat.

The day was sunny and bright, low humidity and a slight breeze blowing, only high, puffy clouds in the sky, an absolutely gorgeous day. We descended to the boat dock, and I plunked down my credit card and signed all of our lives away as my husband and two marina staff members got all the kids outfitted in life jackets. My older son, a svelte 7 years old, argued against having to wear the kind of life vest that has a strap between the legs to help keep it on the kid, so, mean parents that we are, we told him if he wanted to wear the better life jackets he had better learn to actually eat food instead of subsist on air and until such time as he managed to weigh 50 pounds, he'd better just wear the damned vest if he wanted to get on the boat. Nemo, my 2 1/2 year old, was quite thrilled to be wearing his life jacket, and started examining every fishing rod, reel, lure, and piece of bait in the place by picking it up, shouting over it, and brandishing it about while I cringed and urged my husband to get him corralled while I finished up the paperwork.

We got on the boat that was to be ours for a whole whopping hour of time. The marina staffer showed my husband how to drive the boat while I got the kids situated and gave them the "listen to your mom and dad or you may very well die" lecture, and we were off. We made it just to the edge of the No Wake zone before Nemo decided he was done with sitting. He wanted to run around. On a pontoon boat. A pontoon boat with railings that are maybe two feet high. Maybe. He wanted to lean over the edge and examine the motor, especially that whirring spinning part. He wanted to go swim with the geese. He wanted to go fishing. He wanted to touch the water. He wanted to do anything except enjoy a leisurely boat ride on a peaceful lake on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. He had Things. To. Do.

I was the evil monster preventing him from doing those things. And oh, was he angry. He didn't even want me to hold the strap on his life vest to keep him from falling under the propeller, but you can bet your life (or his) that I wasn't about to let go. So he screamed. And kicked. And cried. And wailed. The other kids, not to be outdone by their baby brother, decided to rub it in that he didn't have free range and they did by changing seats eleventy thousand times, and complained bitterly every time my husband asked them to move to a specific seat to help keep the boat balanced. We tried distraction ("Look! Wave to the pretty sea gulls up in the sky!"). We tried redirection ("Why don't you count the fishermen glaring at us as we go past?"). We tried threats and bribery ("Straighten up or you will lose all screen time for a week. A month!" "Hey! If you all can settle down and finish the boat ride quietly we'll go out for ice cream when we're done."). Nothing worked. I held the kicking and screaming baby while my husband drove the boat and hissed directives at the other kids to try to keep them from falling overboard and also from making the situation worse.

It was one of the longest hours of my life. Nemo calmed down to the heavy, erratic breathing post cry thing pretty much as we entered the No Wake zone to take the boat back. My hands shook for at least 20 minutes after we hit land, and my husband had to get all four kids loaded in the car while I took a walk around the parking lot exercising deep breathing techniques and dreaming about margaritas to try to get my heart rate and blood pressure to return to somewhere near normal.

Ever the optimist, my husband said "We'll have to do that again, Nemo was just too hungry and didn't have enough time to run around before we went." I glared at him. It's a good things looks aren't actions or I'd be writing this from a jail cell. I'll take another boat ride again. Maybe in 2020.

I wholeheartedly apologize to all those at Codorus State Park on Saturday who were subject to the screaming boat. The next time my cousin gets married, I promise to stay home.

Original DC Metro Moms post. When she isn't trying to keep her 2 year old from falling off a boat into a 1,275-acre lake, Mary/FishyGirl blogs at The Fish Pond.