Rockband on the Wii tonight. The kids shared singing duties (Mommy does NOT sing) and Joe and I swapped turns on the drums and guitar. Well, if I'm honest, I mostly played drums and occasionally relented and let Joe take a turn.
One thing that is painfully obvious is my utter lack of musical talent. I flat out suck. The kids despair of my ever scoring over 50% or getting more than 9 notes in a row. My husband now calls me Animal, after the drummer on the Muppets. As this is not something my kids are familiar with, we had to employ another means of technology , YouTube, to show them what we were referring to. Once we pulled the kids off the floor and got them to stop laughing, it was decided that yes, Mom was not having a seizure, she was just channeling her inner Animal. (Seriously, I'm about tapped out on family time).
Picture me, arms flailing, leg flapping, mouth opening and closing like a trout gasping for air. Joe thought the mouth thing was analogous to someone who has to move their lips while reading. A regular crackup, isn't he. Despite all the ineptitude, I did have moments where things started to gel. Those moments seemed to happen when, of all things, I stopped trying so hard. When I just let go, it seemed that all of a sudden the gods of coordination were my friends. At least for a few seconds.
This is similar to my riding these days. Sugar and I are getting back into a groove, getting back into shape, and I'm on her 4-5 times a week. However, I have to admit I feel a lot like Animal -- flailing arms, flapping legs and all. The mind knows what the aids for a shoulder in may be, but heaven help me when I try to implement them. It feels as if my inside leg is hooked back over her hip, my outside leg is tickling her ear, my inside hand is back by my hip and waggling like mad and my outside hand is halfway across and up her neck.
We approached a cavaletti the other day, and for some unknown reason it seemed like it was a good idea to go over it. Mind you, Sug thinks any piece of timber on the ground means she needs to access her inner jumper, and since my balance is non-existent, you can imagine how this exercise went. We approached at a fairly good pace with a lot of leg on my part. Why would I do that if I had reason to assume she'd jump it like the Head of the Lake at Rolex? Excellent question. I realized my error, tried a half halt, which, given my crappy balance and Sug's general lack of motivation, was more like a 3/4 halt. We skidded to the base of the cavaletti, flailed around a bit, and then went up and over. Picture me on her tail, then on her ears, then her tail again.
My trainer assured me things are not looking quite as bad as they feel (she's laughing while she says it, though). However, I'm betting she and my family are looking for Animal t-shirts on the Internet. In the meantime, I'm riding without stirrups, begging my friends to longe me, and checking my umpteen hundred riding manuals to see what exercises will help me get my mojo back. Because really, it's fun to access your inner Animal, but only when you want to.