Living in the Wild Wild West

I Believe I am turning into a frontierswoman of sorts. I don't recognize myself and my hobbies anymore.
It all started on Mother's Day, when my son gave me the gift of being more than I wanted to be as a Mom. (Only your child can ask you to do something you'd hate to do and end up with you doing it cheerfully so they won't see what a wussie you are.)
I had a headache after church that day and the family was letting me rest. I absolutely couldn't sleep, so I decided to visit the neighbor's pond and take the kids fishing. They'd been wanting to for a week or two and if I didn't take them, who would? Besides, they were trying to be so quiet for me and I knew the peace of the pond and a hook in the water would really help my head.
Turned out, it was a great day to fish. Minutes away from a mighty storm, overcast and the fish biting on liver like they hadn't eaten in a month. Allen pulled in four or five little brem, I must have caught three or four and midway through it all, I pulled in a huge catfish, just shy of two feet long. Absolutely couldn't believe it. Lovely fish. Sent the kids running to the neighbors to see if they wanted the fish for dinner. Nope, not today. Neighbors came down to admire the catch. I put it on a chain in the water. The kids were blown away. Kept pulling it up just to look at it. Allen turns to me and says, "Can we have it for dinner?" I say, "No, honey, I really don't want to have to carry it home- it's pretty heavy." He fishes for a while. Sits thinking, in that way he has. Says: " If I catch another brem, we'd have enough for a good dinner." " I know, honey, but I really don't want to have to haul these fish home and I'm not sure brem is good to eat." (Not to mention that I really didn't enjoy the last time I cleaned a fish, 15+ years ago) Neighbor mentions that brem taste a lot like perch, and they're big enough to keep over about 6 inches. Allen looks hopeful and casts in the spot they've been hitting hard. I feel a bite and pull in a nice brem, at least 6.5 inches long. I put it on the chain so the kids can keep enjoying this rare day. Allen says"I can't wait for this summer- Nana told me she's going to take me fishing and she'll cook up anything I catch when I visit them." (Nana did NOT mention that Papa Ted gets the fun part of finding the good fishing spot AND cutting up the lovely filets afterwards.) I think, you know- I once cut up a lovely rainbow trout just to impress my new hubbie and it was the loveliest thing I've ever eaten. My little boy just wants to try fresh fish. Everyone in these parts loves catfish fried up fresh. I am going to do my best.
About then, Brian shows up to help carry the fish home and I place a frantic call to Dad. "Is there any special trick to fileting a catfish?' "Nope- just a sharp knife." So I get my knife nice and sharp, pull out some pliers to hang onto it with and go to town.
Did I mention that my plan for killing the fish was to place them on ice for an hour or so? My husband had volunteered to club them on the head for me, but that seemed so brutal. Well, the sweet sleep on the ice worked very well for the brem. Being such a little thing, it took some delicacy to get the filets off without any skin or bones attached. But I finished proud that I had some scraps big enough for us all to taste. AND with very little blood spilled as I mainly stayed out of the organ cavity.
At which point Allen says"Look, Mommy, the catfish is breathing!" "Nonsense, honey, he's been in the ice for hours." OH WAIT! The blasted thing is gasping at me!!!!! Into workshop for sledgehammer for hubbie's original plan. One gentle thump onto catfish noggin and presto! Relaxo! Let the knifework begin. Thirty minutes later, two huge filets are ready for the fry pan. I send Brian to the grill with some steaks in case the culinary adventure disappoints. I roll the catfish in a cornmeal mixture and fry them up in a hot iron pan. Amazing how they shrink as they cook, but still plenty for the four of us. I serve them with tartar or ketchup or lemon as options for the kids. Emily chows down. Amazing. Eats her whole plate and declares herself full. Allen eats all of his brem (Quite tasty, I concur), but only manages a few bites of the catfish before he says he doesn't like it and would rather have some steak. I only get one bite of the catfish before I decide I don't like it and move on to the steak. If there is a next time, I will use a beer batter and will deep fat fry it.
So, the day ended with an unexpected new self-label: Fish preparer. And I actually did a good enough job that it didn't gross me out.