My family tries to be normal. We sometimes go for walks together or spend some time in the boat on warm, summer days. But one adventure – our family canoe trip down the Crow River – generally ends in disaster. Still, this has become an annual event. Why? Because Mom insists we do it to honor her on Mother’s Day.

Since we only own one canoe, Mom contacts other canoe owners – area campgrounds if we’re desperate – in order to find spare canoes and paddles.

The guys drop off the canoes under a bridge where we’ll start the big adventure. Finally, we’re ready to go. Driving to the start, our car is filled with everything we need: seven family members, one guest to even up the numbers, two dogs and four coolers (three with beer, one with food).

We’ve had enough trial runs to know what to watch for. I’m not just talking about snapping turtles and sudden bends in the river. I’m talking which family members to watch out for. After all, your canoeing partner dictates whether or not the trip is any fun.

For example, my younger brother Tom will forever be known as the guy who flipped the canoe on the first canoe trip. Unfortunately, he shared a canoe with my sister Lynn who was convinced she was going to die when they were dumped into the frigid river. Since the incident, my sister is incredibly paranoid, excessively cautious and refuses to go within five feet of a canoe kippered by Tom.

My dad was trained by his father in the “artistry” of canoeing, so he only has fun when his canoe partner knows how to perfectly maneuver the craft. In addition, his personality is similar to that of a drill sergeant – if you mess up, you’ll hear about it.

My mother doesn’t pay attention to the water. She’s so consumed with gawking at birds, trees, and what’s happening in other canoes, that she could be going over a 20-foot waterfall and only notice half way down.

My older brother Ryan and his wife are inseparable, so it’s assumed they’ll enjoy their ride together.

I don’t know if it would be worse riding with The Gawker, Ms. Cautious or Sarge, so I go with Tippy… and the two dogs.

I’m generally pretty optimistic about canoeing with two clumsy mutts and the riskiest canoe partner in the family. Nobody else realizes it, but Tom and I have several benefits to being paired up together with the dogs.

First, we’re never trusted with the responsibility of taking a cooler aboard our craft. And second, it makes for a much more exciting trip. I think we’re both thankful to have a paddle partner with the same goals (take the most challenging route, venture to parts of the river less traveled, and beat everyone to the destination).

Every year we see some pretty cool stuff: huge bird nests, bridges and mild rapids. Of course, the scenery is beautiful in the spring – sparkling water, budding trees, turtles and fish. One year, we startled several resting whitetails, and later drifted right past a cow drinking out of the river.

As you could guess, we’ve had our fair share of tribulations. While the mini canoe trip doesn’t hold a candle to white water rafting, it’s not completely leisurely. After all, eight very different people going down an unfamiliar in four separate canoes is a recipe for disaster. If you want to stay dry, you need to be prepared.

It’s impossible to catch it all. The barbed wire fences blend in really well with the river until you’re ­only a few feet away, but we always figure out a way to sift through without breaking any skin. We usually come across at least one fallen tree per year, preventing us from continuing down the river seamlessly. The river is sprinkled with patches of seaweed – or seaweed-covered rocks as you discover when trying to drift over them. The river is also lined with branches just high enough for a canoe to fit under. As long as you can lie flat and the dogs remain calm, you’re in the clear.

If it’s not one canoe in trouble, it’s another. To be honest, that is my favorite part of the trip. Hearing my parents bicker back and forth can be annoying, but it’s actually pretty comical listening to Dad bark commands at Mom in efforts to teach her to paddle like a boy scout. I can’t help but laugh as I watch my sister panic while the front of her canoe gets hung up on a stump and turns sideways. And nothing beats watching your family float by you, laughing because the front of your canoe is mounted up on a rock.

What I’ve described may or may not sound like your cup of tea. But floating down a beautiful river or exploring the shoreline of a lake is always a good time – crazy family or not.

Anchors aweigh!

Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.