You know how I’m not cool, right?

Well, I’ve been working really hard at trying to be cool and the opportunity of a lifetime presented itself to me Sunday afternoon when the boy was unable to take my children out on jet ski rides meaning I had to or face revolt.

I knew this as soon as we left the house.  I prepared the whole way there, psyching myself into the fact that I could do this, despite the fact that I SWORE I would never ride it by myself OR with children on there with me.

By the time we hit the “whee!” bump… in which I sailed over doing the speed limit when I normally slow down, I was working toward cool.  The “whee’s!” weren’t as loud, but they were happy.

By the time we got there the children were clammoring all over the boy to take them for rides.

“Unless she takes you, we can’t go out today,” he explained to them.  Immediately, their heads swiveled in my direction.  I threw up my hands and said, “I will take you, however, I won’t go where he goes and I won’t go as fast as he goes.  If you want to putter around in the cove, then we can.”

Apparently, any ride is better than no ride and they donned their life jackets and two bodies straddled the jet ski, one behind mine and one in front of mine and off we went.

As we neared the end of our cove, just before I was allowed to “wake” (which, for the record, I still don’t know what that actually means), Matthew leaded up and shouted in my ear, “You are so cool, Mom!  There aren’t many moms who would do this.”

It was all I needed.  It boosted me, which, in turn, boosted the speed that I would travel across the open lake and the distance in which I originally was fearful of traversing.  Y’all, I made it all the way out to the main channel, flying on the fact that my son thought that I was cool.  It was then I realized that there were other vessels out there and it was bumpier and all of a sudden, I panicked again, and turned around and headed back for our little dock.

But for a moment, I was flying high.  I was cool.  We made the rounds a few more times before I actually headed back in and then, still reeling from the fact that I did more than I thought I was going too and the fact that my 12 year old thought I was cool, I offered up individual rides.

“Is that all we’re going to do?” Matthew asked confirming with, “What we just did?”

“Pretty much,” I replied.

“Nah,” he said as he shook his head.  “That was boring.”

Hold up.

Wait a minute.

Boring?

Did my son just say my ride was boring?

I was confused.  I took them out to the mouth of the main channel.  I hit 54 mph, the fastest it would go with that weight on it.  I made waves and then rode over them.  What did he mean by boring?

Apparently he didn’t understand that I superceded everything I EVER thought I would do just a week after driving that confounded thing for the first time.  I was so proud of myself.

The boy was proud of me.

Just 15 minutes ago, I was so cool.

What happened?

I guess I’m going to need to kick it up a notch…

Back to the drawing board…

Until next time…