::snort:: Did I Do That? ::snort::

That was in my best Steve Urkel voice… heh.

The kids are immersed in throwing the eleventy two bajillion balls the neighbor gave us.  I should be grateful as in one hand was a bag of assorted balls from whiffle balls to softballs and everything in between and in his other?  A box of Barbie dolls, clothes and even more little, teeny shoes to fit the unrealistic figured plastic idol that no matter how hard we try to keep them contained will invariablt end up in the vacuum cleaner.

Then, not only will we not be able to find the match to our real, every day shoes, melt downs will ensue because Barbie does not have the match to her favorite foot coverings.

The drama here people.  It’s almost more than I can stand.  No.  It IS more than I can stand which is why when the boy and I found ourselves with no children Saturday we meandered up to the Lake.

Now, I mentioned about losing my cool and the fact that I was not overly fond of the jet ski ride that I took last weekend.  But as if riding on the back of it wasn’t bad enough that same weekend, he handed me the dummy key (this key won’t allow you to go over 30 mph), strapped a life jacket on me, and told me to go.

Is he RETARDED?  I don’t know how to drive this thing.  It’s Memorial Day weekend and despite my tears and the cries of  “please don’t make me do this” I began to drift away with he and the kids waving to me from the dock.  I DID NOT want to be on that thing.  I knew enough to idle out to the end of the cove.  There’s a law that states “no wake within 50 feet” and I know this because everyone and their brother has a sign posted.  I don’t know what a wake is, but I know that to not “wake” you have to idle.  And idle?

That’s my speed.  It’s about 2 mph.  You just putter right along.

As I idled out to the end of the cove I was attempting to man up and over come this fear.  It can’t be that hard, right?  I can drive a car.  I can manage the President & CEO.  I do fairly well with a group of teenagers.  So why was I letting this little jet ski bother me?

About halfway out of the cove, it dawned on me that if I learned to drive this contraption?

I could ESCAPE!  This might be the answer.  No one could come and get me.  It would just be me and the open water… and all the other idiots out there which as I neared the end of the cove came into sight.

What am I doing? I thought to myself.  I can’t go out there!  They’ll laugh at me because I’m going so slow.  I’ll get run over.  I can’t believe he sent me out there all by myself.

The confidence I had built up the second leg of the trip out of the cove was quickly diminshed by the mere sight of the bigger vessels before me.

At the mouth of the cove, I had a decision to make… either venture out and pray that the Good Sweet Lord would be with me and get over this silly fear or turn around and head back.  Realizing that I never once hit the gas and had only hit 3 mph, I knew that I had to go a little faster or I would be laughed at when I returned to our little abode on Smith Mountain Lake if not by the boy then definately by the kids.

I hit the gas and topped that baby out at 10 mph.  My heart aflutter, my palms sweating (or maybe that was just the mist from the water) I turned the appartus that will be the death of me around and idled back to our dock.

I had to park it and they laughed at me.  They asked how fast I went and they laughed at me and despite my threat to never go on it again, they still thought this was funny.

Later that afternoon the boy’s mother chaperoned the swimming children and just he and I went out.  While it was a little better without a four-year-old between  my legs to worry about, I was still deathly afraid that he was going to throw me from the back.  He was showing off and while he promised that he would never do that to me (even though he’s dying to but he would prefer not to be single) I was afraid that it would happen my accident.

So it was a little better and he promised me that when we were able to come back without kids, he would take me out and teach me.

Well, that day was Saturday.  We donned our life jackets and he gave me the real key.  I wanted the dummy key but nope.  I had to take the real key.  I rocked it out of it’s little dock and we idled out to the cove.

“You have to give it some gas, hon.  The faster you go the easier it is to steer.”  he said.

I sat there… still idling.

“Get it up on top of the water.  Give it some gas.”

I was petrified but I gave it some gas.  I hit 18 mph.  I told him my speed just in case he didn’t see it from behind me.  But I still couldn’t steer right.

Slowly I began going a little faster and he took me to a little place that was open, uncongested and I could practice steering.  It was there that I made it up to 25mph but eventually, despite the fact that I was scared to death that we would flip the thing over, I was bored with going around in circles.

“I’m tired of going in circles,” I whined.

“Well, do you feel confident enough to go into the main channel with the other boats and the rougher water or… what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to go with the other boats.”

“Well then putter around in here,” he replied as he pointed out the area in which I should stay to practice.  To point out the areas he was standing up on the back of the ski and leaning forward and he was making me insanely nervous.

“Sit down,” I said.

“I’m fine,” he replied confidently and then with a little ‘tude “I can balance myself.”

Oh dear readers…

I couldn’t resist.  I wanted to stop the thoughts running through my head.  I wanted to stop myself from what I was about to do.  I knew it was wrong, oh how I knew it was wrong, but dear sweet Jesus, please forgive me.  Without missing a beat, I put my thumb to the throttle and no sooner did I do that did I see the blur of his red trucks leaving my periphial view.

I froze.

Oh my gosh!  Immediately, I realized what I had done.  What if he lost his sunglasses?  The boy doesn’t have many expensive thing, but his signature are his shades.  They are pricey and they never leave his head — like he has permanenet marks on his head indicating the residence of the shades.

When I glanced back the first thing I noticed were the shades where they were supposed to be and the boy bobbing in the water.

I couldn’t help it.  I burst into laughter.  I was laughing so hard my stomach ached and then laughed even harder because I didn’t know how to go back and get him with without running him over.

He was laughing as well, which was a good sign, although I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing even if he wasn’t and amidst my laughter I managed to get out a dozen apologies to which he, intermingled with his laughing, he said it was okay.

“How do I come get you?” I yelled to the bobbing boy in the water and found myself now needing to play the role of the hero rescuing the dame in distress.  I managed to turn it around and get close to him.  Scenes of giving the police report as to what happenend to him after I tried to rescue him and ran him over ran through my head and when I got close enough, he yelled, “Hit the stop button!”

I did as I was instrcuted and he climbed aboard and I again apologized profusely while laughing even harder.  I believe there were also some “I didn’t mean to’s” that came out to which there were many “it’s okay” responses.

The boy took over and took me to an area of the lake that was quieter and I could go a little faster.  When he told me to gun it I did and I would report how fast I was going and then?

I hit top speed.  54 mph.  The fastest that puppy would go with two people aboard.  My only problem was to slow down instead of easing off the gas I just let it go and that, if you’re not aware, is like slamming on the breaks and the boy was flung into me.

There was much laughter but there was also payback.  On the way back he didn’t take over to take me through the main channel and home.  Nope.

I had to drive through it, only I didn’t realize that I was.  I was just following his directions and I didn’t realize what he had done until he said, “Now… this is the widest part of the lake.”

“Cool.” I said.

“It’s also,” he continued, “the most choppy.”  And it was.  I was all over the place.  I would get scared and slow down and he would yell, “don’t stop!”  Apparently you lose steering when you stop but I was scared, y’all.  I didn’t know what else to do.  There were boats and bouys to obey and channel markers and I didn’t know where I was.

It was at that point in time that I stated that the lake should have lanes and stop signs.  And stupid people?  They shouldn’t be allowed to be in the water.  Additionally, I think that any student jet ski drivers should have a big neon sign that says, “I’m learning… move out of the way.”

He thought that was funny.  I was being serious.

What?  Student drivers in cars have them…

As we pounded across the waves created by the other boats and I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I don’t want to do this anymore” (which he SWEARS he didn’t hear me say), I prayed for two things… that I would get us back to the dock without dying and that I wouldn’t kill him for putting me out in the middle of the lake not knowing what in the heck I was doing.

He would say things like, “stay to the outside of the channel markers.”

Ok, people, that means NOTHING to me.  “To the left or right?” I would yell in response.  Apparently there is different speak in lake world.  Also, in the nautical world, there are no street signs and you are forced to remember land marks.  If I had a nickel for every time he asked me, “do you know where you are now?” I would be a rich woman.  I guess he didn’t realize that on the TWO prior trips out on the jet ski I kept my eyes closed the whole time because I’m a baby and a scaredy-cat.

It’s rather embarrassing.  Seriously.

All of a sudden, I slowed down. I saw the boat coming at me.

“Don’t stop!” he yelled. So I hit the gas again.

“Do you NOT see the boat in front of you?” he said, his voiced raised.

“Yes, I see it, that’s why I stopped.  I’m waiting for you to tell me which way to go.”

Did you know that when a boat is barraleing down on you, it’s not the time to have a discussion on what to do?

It’s not.  He quickly stood up behind me and steered us out of harms way and to safety.  He’s a good man that boy of mine.

When we got back, I docked the jet ski, crooked of course, and after I got off and he straightened it up, I stated, “I am not going out there by myself and I will not take any children on the back of that.”  It really had nothing to do with being worried for the kids’ safety, rather that if I took them out, I would go at a snail’s pace and they would be bored and hate me.

I’m just not cool.

While sitting on the back porch, he accused me of throwing him on purpose.  “I did not,” I retorted, hurt that he would make such an accusation and again we laughed.

“Ok,” I said, “I can’t lie.  I intentionally did it.”  I quickly added, “But I didn’t mean for you to go off the end, I just meant to make you sit down.”

But dear readers, I have to be completely honest.

I totally meant to throw him off and you know what?

This uncool mom?  The one that plays it safe?

I gained some cool points.

But then I lost them when I screamed like a baby and almost got us killed.

Oh well.

I tried, right?

Until next time…