Where were the fish cleaning guy types when I needed one?


Where were all those father, uncle, grandpa, boyfriend, guy types when I needed one to clean some fish?

So, here is the story.  I try to be a good mom.  I try to involve myself in things my daughter loves.  In doing so,  I have tried and learned to enjoy many new activities.  Thanks to my daughter’s passion, I have learned to snowboard.  I love it even if I don’t look like much on a snowboard.  I have gotten much better at kicking soccer balls and playing catch.  This means I can now catch a ball thrown in my direction!  I will never be a sports star and probably never play on a sports team of any kind, but I love those games of catch after dinner and those winter Saturdays filled with snowboarding.  Mostly, I love being with my daughter when she is enjoying herself.  I love sharing in her joy and passion for life and all its activities. 

But then, she got into fishing.  Truth be told, fishing is just not my thing.  My girl is wild about fishing, and somehow I just cannot catch her passion on this one.  Please forgive me, all you fisher people out there, I know it is an activity loved by many (I do live in Minnesota after all), but I am just not one of the fisher people. 

Beyond the whole, ‘I am not wild about this activity thing,’ the real issue is the fish.  Or more precisely, the ‘hey Mom, will you clean my fish?’  With no father, uncle, grandpa, boyfriend, guy type around, what could I say when I found myself facing my very proud daughter holding 2 smelly, scaly bass?  The only answer, of course, is to clean the fish.  Why?  Because of my daughter’s joy.  Joy is contagious.  Joy helps us do radical things.  Feeding my daughter’s joy, or anyone’s joy, is worth an awful lot of smelly, full-of-guts, scaly fish that need to be cleaned.  I long for joy in my world.  I want to help create joy.  So if in the future, creating joy does entail cleaning fish, I pray that those fish are as yummy as the bass were that night for dinner. 

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