Ok. I get it. I've learned some lessons, gotten some perspective, really, I get it.
So back off, Luck.
Our latest attempts at normal summer activites found us spending the weekend with my brother Scot and his wife Kimberlee who came for a visit. They brought along their new dog Powder who is adorable and sweet. Poor Powder was battling a UTI but was in great spirits and we had a nice time. Almost.
On Saturday we decided to hit the river with the jet-ski and my dad's boat so we loaded everything up and headed to Levy Landing which is a great spot for little kids and boats. Since Brad was on his way back from Boise (yes, Uncle Matty is STILL in the hospital but is finally feeling good and may be able to go home tomorrow as long as he can wean off his oxygen. Hooray!) I was flying solo, getting the jet-ski ready, packing lunches, remembering every possible thing my kids might need, etc. When we finally got up there and got situated, my kids started complaining about the water (too warm and mushy of all things) and we kind of just sat around waiting for Brad and all his fun to arrive. All this work only to have everyone stare at the ground and complain? Totally rad.
Finally, he did, so we all piled in the boat while Scot rode the jet-ski and headed out to the middle of the river for some tubing and fun. Scot was having a blast on the jet-ski, Brad and Kimberlee were loving the tube, and I was in the boat, trying to hold onto a sleeping Sienna, two large and intellectually challenged dogs, while calming the fears of my children who were scared of every turn the boat made. Oh, and humoring my father, who is a wee bit high-strung when it comes to boating.
It was awesome.
But I put on my happy face and tried to ensure that everyone was having a good time when all of a sudden the boat started lagging a bit. It seemed like it was losing power and my dad couldn't get it to plane at all. I looked in the back and noticed that there was a substatial amount of water collecting in the bottom of the boat.
My dad, convinced now that we are in fact sinking, starts yelling at Brad and Kimberlee to come in as fast as they can so we can try to get to shore. I'm still trying to hold onto sleepy Sienna and the dogs while really calming the fears of my children who do now have something to be afraid of. We are smack dab in the middle of the river and while we do have the jet-ski to go and get help with, the idea of keeping all the children and the dogs on the tube while the boat sinks is freaking me out.
But I remain calm, trying to relax my frantic father, hold onto sleepy Sienna, the dogs from hell and Spence and Hannah who are throwing themselves at me.
Luckily, ever so luckily, we make it back to the dock where we are all trying to unload the boat as quick as possible so we can get it out of the water. It had taken on a tremendous amount of water and was sitting quite low so the chaos of the adults running around, the kids crying and the dogs wandering free would have been a hilarious sight. If it wasn't happening to me.
You'd think, if we had any luck at all, our story would have ended there. But oh no. While leashing up Powder, Kimberlee noticed that one of her eyes was completely recoiled into it's socket and that she was batting at it frantically. It was the freakiest looking thing. So while trying not to sink the boat, we had blinded the dog.
So now Scot and Kimberlee are trying not to panic but are completely scared for their dog, Brad and I are trying to keep the boat afloat while watching our kids and dog and my dad is running around trying to get the trailer in the water to get the pint sized Titanic out. We get everything loaded and Scot and Kimberlee jet off to the nearest vet.
As we drove home, Brad and I kind of chuckled at the turn of events because if we didn't laugh, I'm sure we would have cried. Scot called to report that Powder had gotten a thorny piece of chit-grass stuck in her eye but that the vet had removed it and no damage was done to the eyeball. Phew. Dad got the boat home and couldn't find any exterior damage and was hopeful it was a bad gasket or something. Again, phew.
So there you go. Luck once again stole our lunch money and wrote nasty rumors about us on the bathroom walls, but we're still here. We may never leave the house again, but we're still here.