My friends and I decided to arrange a family holiday with the children, I thought that I could easily cope with my son, but it all went wrong. Bashny.Net

Family holidays with children - my cherished dream. It's still a pipe. It’s not because we don’t leave the house. And because rest can not be called until the child grows up a little. He's with me around the clock seven days a week, and there's no one to leave my son for. I carry everything with me – it’s about me.



The husband runs away to work, and in the evening or on weekends declares that he also needs to rest from the child. This situation does not always suit me, because no one canceled the other duties. I'm very tired and I can't keep up. I really want to be left alone for a while.

I remember going fishing before. I was there resting from work, the bustle of the city and could until morning admire the shimmering of the moon on the water surface. I love nature, I love fishing, both summer and winter. But with the advent of the long-awaited baby in our family, I realized that fishing can only dream of.



When our baby turned one and a half years old, we decided to arrange a family holiday with children. Together they made a list of necessary things and food for the week, and then began to prepare for fishing.

Since my breast-feeding carapace at that time was not yet goodbye, I did not worry about milk for the baby. We bought some groceries, and I made some homemade stew. And everything else can be boiled on a gas tourist tank or fire. Then everyone gathered together and a small group of six people (four adults and two children) went for a week with tents to the river.



It was easier for our friends: their boy was 12 years old at the time and didn’t have to be looked after like ours. A friend adores small children, and I was hoping, frankly, that she would play with my son, and in the meantime I could hold the rod. And she did play with a little kid sometimes, but it lasted ten minutes. And the rest of the time, my carapace was with me.

I realized that in the daytime I would not be able to relax and fish. After all, we need to cook periodically, and I also need to take care of the child. I've decided to focus on the morning kick.

My baby usually slept until 9 a.m. So I woke up early and slipped out of the tent. I made coffee for myself and our men, and we sat next to the fishing rods. Before I had finished drinking, I heard, “Mom!” It's 6:30. Half the fish!



I reassured myself that, perhaps, in the evening for the bait “hold on” will succeed. I put my son to bed and went to our boys.
- How's it going?
- The last bite was 3 hours ago! – answered the choir.

After watching the stars for half an hour, I went back to the tent because my eyes were stuck with fatigue. My little son slept more peacefully in nature: it was not as hot in the tent at night as in our apartment. But he woke up early again this morning. A real fisherman grows: afraid to sleep through the morning peck!



In everyday care, time ran by a hare. And I realized that I would be able to fish freely when my child was eight. Because relying on the help of other people, when it is not part of their plans, is not worth it.

We had a wonderful seven days on the river. In the fresh air cooked ear, fried fish, baked potatoes at the stake. If I did anything, everyone tried to help me, especially my baby. So the week went by unnoticed.



When we got together the following year for a night fishing trip for a few days, I had no illusions, and in advance I was preparing to feel not a “fisherman”, but “mother” and “mistress”. Let "my" fish grow in the river!