When I was younger I didn't want kids. Not because I didn't like them. More like I thought I didn't have the right skill sets to be a good parent and I didn't feel it was a good idea to potentially screw up perfectly good little humans. So it came as a bit of a surprise to me that at some point I changed my mind and decided reproduction sounded like a good idea. And a few years later it was even more surprising to me that something I started doing again as a means of gaining some time away from my kids actually turned into one of the best things I could have done for them as a parent.
I starting riding again when my kids were five and seven years old, needing some time to re-connect with myself outside of my role as mom and wife. I'm an only child, and need alone time to re-charge my batteries. I loved my kids to distraction, but having two small creatures with constant needs sometimes just sucks the life right out of a girl. So I started taking riding lessons again. Life and schedules being what they were, sometimes I'd need to take the kids with me. (Ask me how easy it is to concentrate on inside-leg-to-outside-hand when you've realized the kids have chewed through the duct tape used to affix them to the viewing room chairs and are now wandering unsupervised through the barn.)
Fast forward a bit to the point where both my kids had begun taking lessons with me and I now had a horse of my own. Mommy-time now had a new meaning. It meant teaching them how to be safe around 1200 lb animals. It meant teaching them how to communicate with the horses and to listen to what the horses were communicating back to them. It meant spending hours commuting back and forth to the barn and then hours at the barn together, which meant we had a lot of time to talk to each other, laugh with each other, sing together, or just 'Be' together. With the kids' other sports I dropped them off, cheered them on, picked them up and then brought them home again. Sure, we talked about the soccer practice, or the lacrosse game, or what the coach had said, but with the kids' sports my husband and I were largely onlookers. The riding was something the kids and I did as a unit.
Noah and James
As my children grew their love of riding and horses stayed constant. They both participated in school sports as well as their equestrian endeavors. More than once they'd tell me the horses were their therapy, that time spent with their equine friends made handling all the other challenges they faced easier. One memorable dinner conversation saw my daughter telling us how she felt having the riding in her life kept her from getting into trouble (makes spending the gross national product of Kenya totally worth it!)
My son started his freshman year at college this past Fall. Like any other mother, I worried that he'd be overwhelmed, that he would have a hard time adjusting and making friends, that he'd have a hard time without the safety net of family and friends. I shouldn't have worried so much. Shortly after school started Noah called home and told me he tried out for and made the Northeastern University Equestrian team.
Husky Equestrian Team member and Proud Mom
Bonding with his steed
Over the course of the first semester he told me several times how spending time with the horses helped him deal with the challenges of being away from home and being a first-year engineering student. He'd call home and tell me about his lessons on the team horses, or send texts with pics of the horses he'd ridden at shows. When he was home on break recently we were having a quiet breakfast together and he told me again how much the riding had been his anchor while adjusting to his new life. The he told me, "I think I'm going to be like you. I think I'm going to always need the horses in my life."
A lot of being a parent is just bobbing and weaving and hoping you've done more to build them up than screw them up. I may have spent the gross national product of Kenya for several years running, but after hearing what his experiences with horses meant to my kid, well, it pretty much made it all worthwhile.
I went to a horse show. Which I've done before. To watch other people show. However, this time I was the one that horse showed. Me. On Indy. The two of us together.
To give you an idea of what a BIG DEAL this is, let me share this factoid with you: The last time I horse showed was on the Sainted Mare almost 4 years ago. So yeah, there was a lot of rust to shake off. Like a 1963 Chevy pickup truck that's been left unloved in the back yard for 30 years worth of rust.
I've waited almost 2 years to show Indy because when I got him he hadn't had a lot of experience and tended to get a whopping case of Baby Brain/ADD at shows (BBADD?? Bwahahaha!) So, being the excellent mother that I am, I let my daughter show him, as Sophie's a better rider and bounces better than I do. (Ah yes, a true Mother of the Year moment right there). In his defense, we don't have a big show budget so we typically don't get to show much. However, Indy has been getting better and better each time out. (Thank you, Sophie!) Earlier this spring my trainer showed him and Indy was a rock star and champion in his division. As it seemed my youngun was growing up I figured that maybe it was time for me for me to put on my BGPs and take a crack at showing myself.
When the fateful weekend arrived Noah and I packed up the HMS Valium the night before just to make sure we had everything in order. I prepped my show bag and then checked it 5 times to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Shirt, jacket, breeches, belt? Yep. Ibuprofen? Check. Extra contact lenses? Check. Sunscreen because I'm a pasty white chick that burns easily? Yep. Band-aids? Tums and Imodium in case of gastrointestinal distress? Yes and Yes. Valium? HELL YES! (Hey, Indy gets his Perfect Prep, I get mine).
I set two alarms for 4AM, even thought I always wake up every hour on the hour when I know I have to be somewhere. I visualized my rounds, which I found difficult because I didn't know the courses. Yes, I'm insane. Of course I didn't know the courses and my stupid mind gets hung up on the fact that without knowing I can't visualize accurately and then I have an internal dialogue telling myself it doesn't matter and to just make one up for the love of GAWD! (If you've ever seen the Lord of the Rings movies, picture Gollum talking to himself. Seriously, that's how my mind works. It's exhausting.)
Thankfully when we got to the show there was plenty of parking where I could park head-in and drive straight out (because I'm still neurotic about backing up). I got my number and by the time I got back to the trailer it was time to get on and school. We schooled, looked over the courses, and before I could overthink things my trainer shoved me into the ring.
I biffed the first fence. "Well," I thought, "got that out of the way! Might as well kick on and see what we can get from here." The rest of the course actually went pretty well, except from the flyer on the way out of the diagonal line. I came out of the ring and my trainer was smiling ear to ear and bouncing up and down with excitement. "That was awesome! I'm so proud of you!" I laughed because of course it wasn't awesome, but it was a pretty decent start. We briefly covered the 'learning moments' from round one, planned the next course and then he shoved me back in the ring. (Smart man - he knows not to give me time to overthink things). The second round went less well than the first but I came out of the ring smiling anyway. "Not what we hoped for but we still got around in one peice!" was what I said to my trainer. He didn't seem phased by my mistakes at all. Quite frankly, I think he was so excited and proud that I was finally horse showing my actual performance didn't matter.
Indy was being such a good boy despite my mistakes, no tension or ADD moments, just doing his job and taking care of me. Our last round was fabulous. I mean, it was the kind of round I'd dreamed of having. Was it perfect? No. But it was smooth and we did the numbers and the right distances showed themselves and I think I smiled the whole way around. When Indy and I left the ring the smile on my trainer's face made the day for me. "That was wonderful! Amy, you should be so proud of yourself! Look what you did today! You haven't shown in years and you came out and you rode so well!"
Our last round. (Apologies for the finger).
After we finished it was my son Noah's turn to ride Mooch in the 3' jumpers. There were a lot of entries in the class, so it took forever. Shortly after thier first round Indy let us know he was ready to go home. He started loudly voicing his displeasure and we could hear his hollering all the way up at the jumper ring. He started with the occassional whinny, then the frequency and decible level gradually increased. I went to check on him, offered him water, gave him a treat and fussed over him a bit, and then turned to go back to Noah and Mooch.
I got about 10 feet from the trailer when he shrieked again. "Mom-mmeeeeeeeeee! Don't go! I'm bored!" He hollered throughout the entire second class. "Mommy! Mommy! Mom-meeeeeeee! Mom! Momma! Dammit woman, I'm talking to you!" At some point in the third class he started pawing as well. And not just regular pawing, but the kind where he brings his leg up until it's parallel to the floor and then slams his hoof down so hard it sounds like he's gonna bust a hole in the floor.
So I went back to the trailer again. He saw me and immediately stopped yelling and pawing, and I swear the little turd smiled at me. "You're back!! I missed you! Is Mooch done? Can we go home now? I'm bored." I hung out with him, offered him more water, played with him a bit and when I thought he would behave went back to jumperland to wath Noah. I was barely gone a minute before the little booger started up again.
I(bam!) Want (bam!) To (bam!) Go (bam!) Home! (bam!)
Aaaaannnnnddd that continued until Mooch and Noah finished and went back to the trailer. He finally shut up once Mooch was on the trailer and we were ready to pull out. By that point I think my ears were bleeding.
On the plus side, Indy seems to have a good understanding of how the actual showing part of the experience should go. Clearly we're gonna have to do some serious work on his trailer manners, though.
When you have someone like eventer and international eventing/dressage judge Marilyn Payne practically in your back yard, it makes a heck of a lot of sense to take the opportunity to learn from her. Regardless of which equestrian discipline you actually practice. So when a friend of mine posted a video on Facebook showing her and her horse at a recent jumping clinic with Marilyn, I asked her if she knew of future events I could participate in. As luck would have it, there was another scheduled for the end of March.
I signed up for the clinic, and then begged my wonderful friend Marissa to come along for help and moral support. As a card carrying neurotic and doomsayer, I'm better at looking at what could go wrong, rather than what could go right. Emergencies and upheavals are always easier to deal with when you have someone calm and reasonable with you, and Marissa is the voice of reason in my equestrian life. She may not ever come out with me again, as I no doubt drove her nuts with my crazy texts about various what if scenarios. The poor woman had to deal with stuff like this:
Me: Is it the worst thing in the world if we just load Indy on the left side of the trailer? We're only going 10 minutes down the road. He's smaller than Mooch but loads better on the left and I don't want to make loading a big production. We're working on it and he's improved so much but I don't want to push it.... Marissa: That's fine.
Me: Parking is in a field. It's supposed to rain. What if I get stuck? Do you think the Tahoe will get stuck? It should be fine, right? Should I go to Home Depot and get wooden boards just in case? Would that help? Marissa: Do you have 4-wheel drive? I think it should be ok but I guess it couldn't hurt.
Me: Do you think hanging a lickit or something in the trailer would keep Indy from screaming when he's in the trailer by himself? Marissa: Worth a try. But I'd hang it after you park. (In my defense, I did intend to hang it only after we arrived, but after all my other texts you can't blame the girl for wondering what level my crazy was at.)
Indy loaded perfectly. (Good Boy!) We got there early, so there was plenty of room for me to roll in and do a big turn so I was facing the exit. (I suck at backing up.) Since we were so ridiculously early (helloooo, neurotic!) we had plenty of time to get the lay of the land and check out the class before us. Shockingly, Indy remained quietly munching his hay in the trailer while we were gone. (Good Boy!)
"What?? I'm fine. I'm a big boy now. Nothing to see here."
The first jump I saw when we entered the area was a black and white pole set over 2 black and white barrels painted to look like cows. There was a 2' plastic cow in front of the standards on either side. I thought Indy was gonna plotz, but he barely registered it.
Marilyn called me over to ask for some background on Indy and our training together. "He's quite cute," she said when we got close. Indy, sensing a potential friend, stuck his nose out to give her a friendly bump.
Indy: Hi Marilyn! You're cute too! I like your place. There are lots of jumps. I like jumping! What's with the cows? I've never seen a cow jump before! Can we start jumping now?
We started over poles set in a circle like a clock, with the poles on 12, 3, 6, and 9, spiraling in and out in the trot and canter. We did that fairly well. Then we progressed to the actual jumping. Marilyn told us we would jump each element individually before tackling the entire course. OK, no problem, we've got this, I thought.
I was wrong. "Where do you think your focus point should be? Where would you jump this fence?"" she asked as she pointed to the first fence. My brain blanked. "Wait, what?? There's a quiz?" Each jump followed the same process; we were asked where we should focus our eyes (not just the last window, but the bottom right corner of the last window) and what part of the fence we should jump (the high part of a Swedish oxer and the corner of a corner jump.) It was good exercise for me, as my mind tends to be in a "What Am I Jumping Thank God I Survived Holy Shit Where Do I Go Now?" jumble and the way we were approaching things forced me be more thoughtful and also built in a pause/reset moment after every fence. Indy was totally fine with the repetition, which surprised me as normally he gets annoyed at having to do something more than a couple times. He very clearly feels "I did what you asked, now let's move on."
Things Marilyn had me working on:
Straightness
Picking focus spots and actually using them (Marilyn: "Amy, where were you looking on the approach to that fence?" Me: "Ummmm, at B?" Marilyn: "Were you really looking at B?" Me: Ummmm, no." Marilyn: "Do you know where you were looking?" Me: "Ummm, not really.")
Being more mindful. Not just about where to look and how to jump each obstacle but about how I rode in between them and how that sets me up for the next fence.
Opening the outside rein for a counter bend and adding a strong inside leg (almost thinking leg yield) around the corners as Indy tends to lean on the inside shoulder around turns. This was so different than what I've always done it was damn near an impossible task. My mind was sending out instructions and my body was adamantly ignoring them. I finally managed to do this somewhat successfully on the last course.
Oddly enough, the task I found the most difficult during the clinic is probably my most important take away. Indy does not like the ends of the ring, as there are large doors and he feels there are BAD THINGS on the other side of those doors. He often will drop his inside shoulder and duck to the inside, porpoising around the short side of the arena. Which I find a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least. The other day I could feel him getting ready to do it and I opened my outside rein to counter bend him and held my inside leg against his side like it was a steel column. Lo and behold, no porpoising!
I liked working with Marilyn a lot, and am going to try to see if we can set up something once a month or so. I'd love to get help from her on our flatwork as well as our jumping. Will keep you posted...
"Nevertheless, she persisted" has become an overnight battle cry and the subject of a gazillion tweets (#LetLizSpeak, #ShePersisted), memes, and t-shirts since Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said while defending of his silencing of Senator Elizabeth Warren during her speech criticizing attorney general nominee Sen. Jeff Sessions.
The other day I shamelessly used it as a metaphor for my personal holy grail, my crusade to become a better rider in the face of much mediocrity.
So I figured what the heck, it'd be fun to create a few memes showcasing some of my greatest awkward equestrian moments. I'm on Sug in all of them. I guess I haven't had enough photo ops with Indy yet, although God knows there have been meme-worthy moments with him.
Note that The Sainted Mare literally jumped out of her shoe when I asked her for a little extra effort over this oxer. (It's by her nose.)
The Sainted One was a bit behind the leg this day and I felt we needed a little extra oomph to jump this oxer. Apparently I was a little over-zealous in my request. Oxers were our nemesis, for some reason. The "Oh Shit!" look on my face is priceless. And you can't tell in this photo, but I jumped this entire round with my fly down. (The photographer was kind enough to point that out to me after I finished.)
Yet another oxer. Sug opted for the Rider Override and went for the flyer here. I'm pretty sure I dropped a very audible F-bomb as we took off. Nothing like keeping it G-rated at the horse show, what with the kids 40 feet to the left of me and all....
So there you have it. Despite many, many awkward moments I persist at trying to get better at this riding thing. Thank God for the patience and fortitude of my equine partners.
Feel free to share any of your "Nevertheless, she persisted" equestrian moments. It'd be fun to make a gallery, don't you think?
No, this is not a political post. Apologies to Elizabeth Warren, but I've decided that phrase neatly summarizes my efforts to become a good rider. Okay, maybe I should really say "adequate rider." Right now "good rider" feels like I'd be setting the bar too high.
Have you ever had those "I suck at this and should be banned from ever throwing my leg across a horse's back" rides? The kind where you feel that your brain is telling your body parts what to do and those body parts are replying "No comprende."
I've had several of those rides recently. Some nights I just give up and say "Tonight's just a fitness night, Indy. We're going to do trot and canter sets with you on the buckle and Mommy in a two-point so I can say I'm building strength and doing something productive."
It's not all bad. I have had some successes. Instead of being Queen Calculator (adding strides to Every.Single.Fence) I have been riding boldly to fences, almost like I did when I was a kid. Mind you, I feel like an unbalanced sack of potatoes cowboying her way around a course, but at least I'm doing the numbers. I yearn for the day when I can actually produce a smooth round, but lately that day feels more like a fantasy than a potential reality.
Another bright moment was the other daywhen one of my trainers was riding Indy and said that Indy was becoming more fun to ride, as he was more broke and balanced. That was nice to hear. My trainer does the occasional training ride on Indy, but 90% of his training over the year I've had him has been done by my daughter and me. So that made me feel that I can't suck too badly, as at least he'd improved. And of course I ruined that moment by thinking, "Imagine what he'd feel like now if he'd gotten more training rides." Sometimes I wish I could tell my mind to just shut the hell up for once. I try, but it never listens.
Despite feeling that I will never be more than an adequate rider at best, I still try. I take regular lessons when I'm not traveling. I do my best to ride five days a week. I read books and try to incorporate what I've learned into my riding.
So while I may never be a good rider, there is one thing I feel I can say about myself. Whether its folly, stubborn bullheadedness, or sheer determination, at least I've persisted.
I figured that was an apt title given the last time I posted.
It's not for lack of ideas. I have ideas all the time. Something will happen and I start composing a post in my head. It just never gets actually written down. Mostly because of the whole work-life balance thing. Which will be another post altogether.
I hope you're doing something fun for the day. Like celebrating with family, dysfunctional or not. My family is entertainingly dysfunctional, like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates - you never know what you're gonna get. So I will be celebrating with wine. Wine adds another level of interesting to things, don't you think?
Anyways.....
We do a family holiday card every year. I started out including Sug the year we got her. Made her wear antlers and a Santa hat, which she handled with her usual equanimity. Each year we did a new card, adding new equine family members as the kids grew from ponies to horses. Past cards included Cookie, the wonderful pony we borrowed from my dearest friend, James, Tiki, Mooch, and RJ. As the kids grew taller, so did the horses.
The year Sug passed the holiday card featured Tiki, the unicorn we were fortunate to lease, and Mooch, the first horse to have the job of babysitting me after I lost Sug. Last year was Indy's first appearance. Mooch had left to go to another family, so we had RJ, a wonderful, gentle soul who had become mostly Noah's partner. Neither would subject themselves to the indignity of wearing holiday headgear of any kind.
This year's card has Indy, who has just celebrated a full year with us, and Mooch. RJ sustained an injury and is now retired and living the good life in North Carolina. In a stroke of good fortune, Mooch's family was looking for a new home for him so we bought him and he's been with us since June.
Yeah, there's a lot to catch you guys up on.
So here's this year's holiday card, and a few pics from our photo shoot (which is a fancy term for freezing your a$$ off while some poor soul from the barn you've coerced into becoming a photographer takes a few pictures.)
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and just general wishes of good times and happiness to you!
Just wanted to give you all an update on how Indy's been doing since we'd found blood in his urine. While the vet felt the issue was due to excessive 'self-pleasuring,' we still took the precaution of taking urine a week later just to make sure there was no infection.
Rather than have the vet come again I elected to get the specimen myself. I mean, how hard can it be to get a urine sample, right?
Harder than you might think, it seems. Indy normally pees as soon as I put him in his stall after we ride. He grabs a bite of hay, takes a swig or two of water, circles a couple of times and pees in the upper left corner of his stall. So after we rode I went in his stall with him, little plastic cup in hand.
Indy was very happy to have me in his stall. He was not interested in dropping trou, however. Rather, he wanted to give me a tour of his stall.
Indy: Mom! (nudge) Mom! (nudge) Look! This is where I keep my hay. See? That's my hay. All mine. I love my hay. NomNomNomNom.
Me: It looks like very yummy hay, sweetie. Can you pee for Mommy?
Indy: Mom! (nudge) Mom! (nudge) Look! This is my water. See? I have two buckets. I like to swish some of my hay in my water so it tastes better.
Me: That does look refreshing, sweetie. Like when Mommy makes tea. How about you drink some water and then pee, okay?
Indy: Okay. Sure. Look over here! Here is my feed bucket. Sadly, it's empty. Maybe you could get some more grain for me? I love grain. No? Okay. Look what I can do with my bucket. I can bang it against the wall.Bang! Bang! Bang!Man, that's fun!
Me: That's amazing, Indy. You are such a smart boy. Now can you show Mommy how smart you are by peeing in the cup?
Indy: Sure. No problem. This is the corner I like to pee in. See, I circle three times, then I put my butt against the back wall and my head against the side wall and then I pee. Hey. Wait. What's with the cup? What are you doing back there? That's a bit personal, Mom. You need to respect my space, remember? I respect your space, you respect mine, right?
Me: I know, sweetie, but this is an exception. I need you to pee in the cup so Doc can make sure you're healthy.
Indy: Oh, okay. Why didn't you say that earlier? Here you go!
I think it says something about the the kind of day you had when the high point of that day is successfully catching your horse's pee. Really, you would have thought I'd climbed Annapurna, I was that chuffed with myself.
The tests came back normal so there's no infection. The vet's conclusion to the whole incident was that the blood in Indy's urine came from my boy getting excessively jiggy with his man-bits.
Life with Indy is never dull. Every time I think things are rolling along smoothly, we hit a metaphorical speed bump.
Sophie and I were at the barn the other evening and were putting the horses away after a nice, uneventful ride.
Indy has a post-ride routine. He goes in to his stall, takes a long drink, and then goes into the top left corner of his stall. He circles a couple times, positions his butt on the back wall and his front end on the side wall so he's sort of cattywumpus across the back corner, and pees. He does this every time. Without fail.
I was putting his halter on the hook by the stall and just happened to look up when he was peeing and my eyes damn near bugged out of my head. His pee was a muddyish red in color. My first thought was that maybe he was dehydrated, and was making a mental note to reach out to the vet and check in with the barn manager about any changes in his drinking habits when I looked down at the shavings and saw they were bright red.
I rushed into the stall to get a closer look and it was definitely blood, so I called the vet. He asked me if I was sure it was blood. Seriously?? I'm female. We're pretty much experts at the whole "blood coming from the genital region" thing. I texted him a picture of the shavings and waited for him to call back, feeling much like I did when RJ's junk had swelled to 3x its normal size (refer to my dick pics post.).
Yep, that's blood
Meanwhile, Indy was quite happy that I was in his stall and came over to chat and search for treats. Then he positioned himself so I would scratch his withers, noodging me with his shoulder and turning his head to look at me as if to say, "Mom, stop standing there. I itch. Scratch me." He'd just peed blood, and I was expecting him to at least look uncomfortable, but here he was, bright eyed, eating hay, and shoving me with his nose for attention.
The vet didn't think it was an emergency and came out the next day to observe Indy and take some blood and urine for testing. There was no blood in his urine and he was still acting normally, with no indications of discomfort whatsoever. 'Carry on like you normally would," was the vet's advice. "I'll call you tomorrow with the results."
I was already at the barn when the vet called the next day. "The blood work is fine," he told me. "There is a slightly elevated level of protein in the urine and it is a bit concentrated, but nothing that points to anything alarming. The white cell count isn't elevated so most probably it's not an infection. No signs of kidney stones either."
I was heaving a sigh of relief when he asked "Does he masturbate often?"
My brain short-circuited. Just went completely blank. WHAT.THE.HELL? When my brain clicked back on thoughts started spinning through at a million miles an hour. My first thought: How would that even be possible? Followed quickly by: He doesn't even have opposable thumbs! Then: Has that tarty mare down the aisle been teasing my innocent little boy?
Belatedly I realized my vet was still speaking to me. I shook my head to clear it and asked, "Wait. What? Does he what???"
My vet: "Does he masturbate often? Does he get an erection and whack it against his stomach?"
Me: "Ummmm, nooooo. I mean, I've never seen him do that."
My vet: "Oh, he did it several times while I was in his stall."
Me: "I guess he just finds you more attractive."
The vet thinks the issue may be caused by something called a urethral rent. He explained that is a "blowout" tear in the urethra cause by high pressure in the penis. (Yes, I totally giggled when he said "blowout" because I am mentally a thirteen-year-old). The rent can heal on its own, or in some cases require surgery. Since Indy hasn't had any recurrences, we're hoping it will heal on its own.
I did a little Googling on urethral rents and some of the results referenced equine masturbation. Apparently stallions pop wood around 18 times a day, and geldings around 12-13 times. I also learned that at one time there was an electrical device designed to prevent stallions and geldings from bopping their baloney. I'm not even kidding. Check out the picture below. (Is it me, or does it look a little bit like Pessoa lunging rig?)
MIND.BLOWN
Who knew, right? So what now? Why do I feel I need to have "The Talk" with Indy? And how would that even work?
Ever have something you just suck at? Just flat out, no holds barred suck at? I mean, you try and try and try again and despite a herculean amount of effort you find yourself reaching the Ninja Master Level of Suckitude. (Yes, I know, I'm not exactly Peggy Positive all wrapped up in buckets of sunbeams right now. I'm having myself a good wallow. Don't worry, it'll be over soon and we'll be back to our regular programming).
Anyway, cavaletti. The point of this rant and the bane of my existence. For some reason these dinky little white poles supported on x's rattle my cage something fierce. Despite the fact that they are only a foot off the ground I feel compelled to ride down to them as if they were a 4' oxer. Prone to overthinking and overdoing, much? Guilty as charged.
The jumping portion of our last lesson started with my trainer asking me to canter in a circle over two cavaletti, one set at 12 o'clock, one at 6 o'clock. (First of all, my circle was more like an oblong.
Did I mention I sucked at geometry, too?)
I totally chipped the first one, leaning so far up Indy's neck my chin rested on his poll. "No worries, kid! You'll nail the next one," I told myself. Nope. Chipped that one, too. And the next one. And the one after that. And the one after that.
Indy, bless his heart, soldiered through without comment. My trainer did not.
"Amy, stop leaning at him."
Chip
"You leaned at him again."
Chip
"Lean away."
Chip
"If you continue coming at it like a freight train and then climb up his neck you're always going to chip."
Leaves long, like from a mile away. Just for the sake of variety
"Amy, it's not even a real jump, it's a canter stride! Just find a rhythm and let him canter over it. Stop trying to find a distance."
I felt like this...
When we stopped for a breather Indy looked back at me and his look clearly said, "Ma, just sit there. Do nothing. Enjoy the scenery. I got this. If we do it your way we'll be here all night."
It took 8 hours (or at least it felt like it was that long) before I finally got two of them correct. HUZZAH!!! Sound the trumpets! My trainer wisely decided to call that portion of the lesson a wrap.
After that we built up to jumping courses. Which went pretty well. Apparently I can't jump anything 1' high set on a circle, but can jump things that are 2' - 2'6"and set at different points around the ring (For the most part. We had a couple of whoopsies). Indy and I even ROCKED an inside turn back to some planks. We weren't supposed to do the inside turn, we were supposed to do a roll back. Small GPS issue brought on by on-course brainfart. The fact that we weren't actually supposed to do it was probably way it went so well.
So you know how a couple posts ago I made a joke about Indy's show name being changed to Dickhead? Well, it looks like my new nickname is gonna be "Chip."
I can hear it now: "Now entering the ring, Dickhead, owned and shown by Chip Vodraska."
A while back I wrote a post about our family's use of nicknames and the fact that Indy may have
thought his name had been changed to Dickhead. (He's young and blessed with ADD and I have a tendency to communicate through the use of colorful language).
I find that things with Indy follow a pattern. Lots of really good behavior and then some not-quite-so-good behavior. Like tonight, for instance, was one of the latter. It was a gorgeous night, we'd had a lesson on Sunday that was not one of our best (totally my fault) and I thought a trail ride would be a low key experience for us both.
And the trail ride part was great. The beginning and end parts, not so much. When we left the barn I noticed the outdoor ring had a new wall jump that looked like it came from a giant Lego castle. There was also a round pen with poles set like a pie cut into a bunch of pieces. Some of the round pen walls had fallen and were laying on their sides. Did either of these new items in the ring bother Indy? Nope. He marched right up to investigate, sniffing them and noodging them with his nose.
Round pen and pole exercise. Or Pie. Take your pick
The issue came when we left the ring. I went to steer him left and he planted his feet and refused to budge. The issue? A patch of grass he walks over pretty much every day. Heck, he GRAZES on it darn near every day! He snorted and refused to go near it, backing up, hopping up and down, and trying to wheel around. We went back and forth for a bit, and eventually he gave in and we went over it. Maybe not the particular patch we were fighting over, but we went forward over grass that was very close to the patch we were fighting over.
Then we wandered around the farm and on the trails, and that was wonderful.
And then we came back and I got the bright idea to bring him over to the offending patch of grass to CONFIRM the correction we'd made. Big mistake. HUGE. What can I say? I'm a dumbass. We argued. We discussed the issue at length. He cited reasons why we shouldn't go over the grass, I contended it was the only acceptable outcome. We expressed our divergent opinions, crossing over the driveway and every damn blade of grass except the ones we were squabbling over. As you can imagine, my language was a bit salty. I may have called him Dickhead again. (I did. Several times. I felt the situation warranted it. I have opposable thumbs, so I get to make those calls.)
The Grass Patch of Doom. Clearly terrifying.
I decided it was time to try something different. I know you're not supposed to get off, but that wasn't getting anything accomplished so I got off. And started to do some ground work, moving his haunches and front end, getting him to back up or come to me, just to get him to listen to me again. At first he was resistant, but I persisted and he became softer and more willing. We did our groundwork for about 10 minutes, on the offending grass, no less. (He didn't seem to have a problem with it once I was off him, the little booger). Once I felt he was completely focused on me and what I was asking him to do, I got back on him and walked him up to the Grass Patch of Doom. He hesitated, but went over it. I made a fuss over him, jumped off, and let him grab a few bites of grass.
Maybe conventional wisdom says I shouldn't have gotten off him, but the way I was doing it wasn't working. I felt the need to reframe the conversation, and in this situation it worked. That doesn't mean I should or will get off in the future. It just seemed like the right thing to do tonight.
And we're okay now. He got lots of kisses and scratches and he put his head in my arms for a long hug. I said I was sorry for calling him Dickhead, and he told me he may have been over-reacting about the whole grass thing.
We're equestrians. We work with 1200lb animals with minds of their own and often very little
respect for personal space. Factor in there are all kinds of ways to get hurt: Falling off, getting stepped on, getting kicked - these are some of the realities we face. And let's face it, all of those things are gonna leave a mark. Usually a pretty impressive one.
That's not what I'm getting at here. I'm talking about the everyday bruising you see and have no idea how you got them. You know, the ones your significant other sees and says, "Yikes, what did you do to yourself now?" The ones where you look at your (insert body part here) and say, "I don't know."
It's sad, but true. You really have no earthly clue as to why your (insert body part here) is a Rorschach blot of red, blue, purple and green. No clue. Nada. Nothing. Bupkus.
It's like when you were in college (or for some of us, more recently) and went to a party. You'd wake up the next morning and at some point, maybe during a shower or while getting dressed, you'd notice one, two, or maybe a constellation of bruises and have no recollection of doing anything to cause them. So you'd check in with a friend, hoping (or maybe not) that they could enlighten you. Maybe a fall while table dancing, a botched keg stand, or an overzealous attempt to learn to Nae-Nae. Most of the time the cause was just random drunken clumsiness. The verdict? Unexplained Party Bruising.
Well, I'm not drunk when I'm at the barn. I'm not, I swear. (Alright, I may have the odd glass of wine now and again, but only after I'm done. I'm a safety-first gal, you know!) So why the heck can't I ever remember how I get all these black and blue blotches all over my body?
Unexplained Equestrian Bruising. One of life's little mysteries.
Nothing's better than your horse showing you that he loves you, right? When a nicker greets you the
second you walk into the barn, well, that's the best part of the day, isn't it? The bright-eyed, ears-forward "Hi Mom!" look is, to me, better than wine and chocolate combined. And if you've followed this blog, you know how I feel about wine and chocolate.
Indy is an extremely people-oriented horse, and he has definitely identified me as his primary person. He loves my kids, but I am very clearly his MOM -bold, capitals, and underlined.
He doesn't just nicker or whinny when I come into the barn, he shrieks: "MOM-MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" It's kind of adorable, and it makes me melt. You gotta love it when someone's that happy to see you.
And when our horse comes to you in the field, that's a great feeling, right? Like they love their grass and horse time, but they love you more. Sug would come to me when she saw me at the fence. More often than not Indy will see me, shriek, and come flying over in a gorgeous extended trot with his mane and tail flying like a shampoo commercial.
Other signs Indy is a complete Momma's Boy:
When he grazes, most of the time he likes to be next to me. Right next to me. As in almost on top of me. Every now and then he'll raise his head to noodge me, like he's making sure I'm still there.
RIGHT.
NEXT.
TO ME.
If he's on the cross-ties and I leave, he often yells for me. If there's something scary, like the big fan they brought in to help cool the barn during the hot weather, he starts whinnying as soon as I leave his side. I can walk the 10 feet to the other side of the aisle and he'll do a rumbly little whinny
. If I leave his sight the decibel level and intensity escalates until he can see me again.
He was so funny at a horse show we recently went to. I walked around the front of the trailer to get something from the dressing room and he started hollering as soon as he lost sight of me. The second he saw me through the dressing room windows he stopped in mid-yell, jammed his nose against the window and exhaled loudly, as if to say, "Oh, thank God. I thought you'd left me." (I know, anthropomorphize much?)
If I come to his stall when he's eating he will actually leave his feed tub and come over to me. Have you ever seen a horse do that? I haven't. Maybe it was because Sug wouldn't leave her food unless I was covered head to toe in Stud Muffins, peppermints, and Oreos.
I mean, on one hand I love that he's so attached. On the other I worry that he's got separation anxiety and there's something I need to be doing to make him more self-assured.
What does you horse do that shows you he/she loves you?
Then in October I got Indy. When I took him to get a pre-purchase exam there was much drama surrounding the loading process. Indy wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Great Big White Box. When we moved to a new barn in October, my trainer and I thought rather than fight with him we'd see if he would like a different type of trailer (mine's a bumper pull with a rear loading ramp, theirs is a 3 horse with a ramp on the side.) He didn't. He didn't want to get on that trailer and when we arrived at the new place he came flying off it like his hair was on fire.
Over the fall, winter, and spring I worked on his trailer issues and learned some natural horsemanship from the lovely Dom Nawrot of Thumbs Up Horsemanship. I want to do clinics and trail paces, so I need Indy to get on the trailer with no histrionics or bribing. I also figured learning natural horsemanship would be a great way to understand Indy better and bond with him. We took our time and didn't push him and now Indy has no issues whatsoever getting on and off the Great Big White Box.
Dom suggested that before we take him somewhere serious like a show we should take him on a quick trip "around the block" to give him a good, low pressure experience. That went well, so last weekend we decided to take him to a horse show about an hour's drive away for some schooling. It gave me a chance to get some more trailering time under my belt, it gave Indy a chance to spend more time on the trailer, and it also helped give him some exposure to a horse show without the stress of competition. (As far as I can tell it was only the third show he'd ever been to).
Noah and Indy paying close attention to Dom's instructions
My son Noah came along as moral support, another set of hands, and to make sure my nerves didn't get the best of me. While we were on the road he regularly reminded me to "Breathe, Mom" and "Go wide around the turns" and "The speed limit is 50, Mom. You should try to do that." Thanks in large part to his efforts we arrived in one piece. The second we opened the trailer Indy stuck his head out, looked around like Dorothy after she landed in Oz, and proceeded to holler his little gray head off. He yelled, someone else would reply. Indy hollered again, somebody else would holler back. Have you ever seen the Disney movie 101 Dalmatians? Remember the Twilight Bark? It was like that. For about 20 minutes. Non-stop.
We brought him over to the rings to graze and Indy visited with everyone who would stop to talk with him. Since I haven't shown in over 2 years and didn't want my nerves to affect Indy I asked one of the barn's working students to school him. Call me a wuss if you want, but the main goal for the day was for Indy to have a good experience, both on the trailer and at the show. The schooling ring was insane and Mike's calm demeanor worked well to keep Indy focused. He also took Indy out for a school around the jump field, and you know how sometimes it's just nice to see someone else ride your horse? Where you can just gawk at your horse and think, "Pretty horsie. MY pretty horsie." This was one of those times. Mike is tall and graceful and Indy's dapple grey coat and silver/grey mane and tail looked gorgeous in the sun. Sadly I was too busy staring that I neglected to get any pictures. DOH! Mom fail.
Hanging with Indy and Noah all day was great. Noah was my rock: He served admirably as parking and exiting consultant, scouting out the parking spot where I would have the most room to back the HMS Valium up if needed. When it was time to go he did a little recon and found a way for me to wiggle out without having to back up. (I have terrible Trailer Reversal Anxiety). He made sure that there was always an adequate supply of Oreos for me and mints for Indy. Most importantly, he kept me laughing and relaxed (or as relaxed as I get) which in turn helped keep Indy relaxed.
So our first real "field trip" went off rather well, and I'm kinda looking forward to our next excursion. My barn-buddy Dave tells me I'm on my way to becoming a "Bad-ass Mother-trucker." I like the sound of that - think it comes on a t-shirt?
If you've followed this blog at all you know I consider myself a big old chicken when it comes to
jumping. I would never have called myself a particularly bold or confident jumper, but at one point in my life I was jumping 3'. Then I channeled my inner lawn dart and tried to force my head through the first level of the Earth's crust while at a horse show. I've been working on finding my missing mojo ever since.
Some might ask why I continue jumping. Hell, I ask myself that all the time. Especially since I love flatting. I've always loved it. I love trying to make a round, rather than oblong, circle. Seeing if I can get a shoulder-in that is actually on three tracks, rather than a shoulder-vaguely-moving-in-the-right-direction. I love that moment when you can feel the horse's back come up and the hind legs swing through. I love all that stuff.
But I continue the jumping thing to challenge myself. Because I don't want to give up yet. Because I want to get my mojo back. Because I want to prove to myself that I can do it, dammit.
So here's the thing: I.Love.Jumping.Indy. Love it. He has this stride that makes finding distances feel easier. Or maybe he's just smart enough to find the distances for us. Probably a little bit of both. I don't know how to explain it.
When we're flatting, his stride is long and not as adjustable as I'd like.
Me: Indy, we're shortening your stride now. Indy: I have a 12' stride. Why should I shorten it?
Me: Because sometimes we'll need to. Indy: I'm a hunter. We do 12' strides.
Me: Noooooo. You're a hunter/jumper/equitation/dressage/hunter pace/all-around horse and sometimes you will need to shorten your stride. Indy: Pfffftttt. I have a 12' stride. I'm a hunter. Relax, Mom. I've got this.
When we're jumping, I can shorten his stride effortlessly. Or lengthen it. No discussion.
I don't do that control freak/ micromanage him like I've done in the past. I mean, yeah, I do it sometimes, but nowhere near as often. Not every fence. Has your trainer ever told you to just let go and "melt" to the distance? Before Indy the only way I'd have been able to melt to a fence would be by wearing a parka while riding at noon in 90 degree heat. Let go? No chance in hell of that happening. Apparently with Indy I've found I can "Let go and melt." Or "Let go and let God." Kinda feels like the same thing at times.
And Mr. ADD does not see any trolls, dragons, ring gnomes or other nasties when he's jumping. Nope, all he sees are the fences in front of him. Mr. ADD becomes Mr. FOCUS.
Who are you calling Mr. ADD?
So now I don't dread that portion of the lesson when the flatting becomes the jumping. And if my trainer asks if I want to do something again, or do another course, I do it. Most of the time without that little voice in my head asking, "Are you sure that's a good idea? We survived the last course, maybe we shouldn't tempt fate."
I'm not saying we're gonna be doing the high performance hunters or the 1.20 jumpers any time soon, but I am definitely saying I love jumping Indy. Which is a pretty big step for me.
Like the Shakespeare reference in the title? Makes me sound edu-ma-cated, doesn't it? Am experiencing
the need to feel I know something about something, because I am learning I know squat about horses. Indy has been a great teacher in that respect, and every day I learn something new from him. Kinda like when you have kids and after they leave the toddler stage you think you've gotten the whole parenting thing down and then they become teenagers and you find you are pretty much just bobbing and weaving and trying to stay on your feet.
Anyway, the name thing. We're big on them around here. We name our cars, my trailer, the house, even the panini maker (Aunt Gilda, if you must know. Long story.) Not only does everything have a name, but it usually possesses at least 2 or 3 nicknames. This can often confuse people who don't know us that well, as evidenced by one of Noah's interactions with his kindergarten teacher. She asked everyone in the class to tell her their parents' names. One by one the kids said Jane, Bob, Bill, James, Susan, Nadim, etc. When it was Noah's turn he piped up with, "Jackass and Hun." Which resulted in our first experience with parent-teacher conferences...
Some examples:
Sophie: Toots, Soph, The Child, Soapy Grapes
Noah: Bud, Curmudgeon, The Boy, Sheldon Jr.
RJ: Big Man (because, at 17.2 hh, what else?), Moose, and (when he's being a boob) The Great Git
Jackass, Hun, Toots, & Sheldon Jr.
My husband's car is German, and we call it Otto. Mine is a Chevy Tahoe, which felt so monstrously big when I got it I started calling it Sully, after the monster in Monsters, Inc. Sully is also frequently called Da 'Hoe, which makes The Boy cringe, which is half my reason for calling it that. My trailer is called the HMS Valium.
And then there's Indy. Indy has picked up several monikers in his short time with us. He is called Baby Grey, Monkey Face (no idea where this one came from), Momma's Boy (in the good way), Little Man, and Stinky (again, no idea why as he smells quite nice). Depending on the day and his behavior he's also been called Turd, Lackwit, DammitHorse, Little F**k and Dickhead. After our past several rides he's probably sure his name has been officially changed to Dickhead.
When my vet was doing Indy's PPE, he commented, "A bit ADD, isn't he?" I tend to agree. Indy's attention span is all over the place and his impulse control often leaves much to be desired. And while it can be tempting to interpret these behaviors as indicating lack of intelligence, it's really the opposite. Indy is one smart cookie, and I'm learning it's my job to figure out ways to keep his agile mind busy and focused on me.
Brain games for Indy
Anyway, clearly I was doing a crap job of it this past weekend, as the ADD was in full force, which meant there was a lot of "AAACKKK, a troll!" or "EEEK, my shadow!" or "OH NO! Horse-eating water trough!" Which meant there was much neck-riding and cussing from Mom. Hence Indy's name change.
I can't wait to hear it announced at horse shows. Can you imagine? "Joining us now is Dickhead, owned and shown by Amy Vodraska."
He's so darn cute it's impossible to stay mad, though.
Future posts will be focusing on How Amy Is Learning to Positively Parent Her Precocious Pony. Stay tuned.
Why you think so much, Momma? It not good for you!
Quite frankly, I wasn't expecting a lot from tonight's lesson because I'd missed a few days of riding
because of a business trip, and my back was killing me from lots of windshield time and trying to wedge myself into the little rental roller skate I was driving. Great attitude, right?? Way to start off on a good note.
Inner Me: Let's set the bar low, Aim. If we use survival as the goal, anything better is icing on the cake, right?? HOO-RAH! Positive thinking in action, girl!
I had some time to watch some of the lessons before me and some of the riders were finding some of their courses challenging.
Inner Me: Well, crap. If the good riders are having a rough time, what they heck is my lesson going to look like? Maybe I should pull the aging adult ammie card and suggest a flat lesson today.
Yep, that's me. Just BRIMMING with confidence.
Given the crappy inner monologue going on in my head, it's amazing I even got on Indy, who was being a bit more ADD than usual. Which I took as a sign that maybe we really should just do a flat lesson.
I don't know what changed. Maybe that I just stopped overanalyzing it. Before I got on I made the decision to take Indy aside so that I could do some groundwork and get him focused on me. Then I got in the ring, warmed up with lots of lateral work and transitions to keep him listening and thinking about my aids. I also thought about what I was doing every stride.
Inner Me: Make sure you keep the rhythm steady. Inside leg to push him in the corner. That didn't work well, more inside leg next time. Try a transition to trot. Hmm, no response off the leg. Add more leg. Still doesn't work. Add spur. Whoops, that worked!! Ok, let's do more trot-walk-trot transitions so we can get him thinking more forward from the leg.
The flat part of the lesson went very well. He's getting stronger and more balanced, and I'm feeling stronger and more balanced. The lateral work is getting better; when we leg yield his shoulder doesn't get to the track 10 minutes before his butt does.
All that was good, but the part that jazzed me the most was the jumping. We've been doing lots of cavaletti work and today's jump session started off the same. We were doing well with those, maintaining a rhythm and jumping out of stride. The my trainer told me to catch one of the "real" fences after the cavaletti.
Inner Me: Wait! What??? No, we do cavaletti. ONLY cavaletti. No real jumps! (I know, hard to believe that I once jumped 3', huh?)
I didn't stop question my trainer. I just went and did it, and it went well. Before I could congratulate myself on coming through unscathed my trainer told me to do the cavaletti, the real jump, and then two more real jumps, set as a 7 stride bending line. (In the interest of full disclosure I should tell you the jumps were the height that the ponies were jumping, 2'6". Maybe not real jumps for most folks, but I'm writing the blog so I get to call 'em real jumps.)
I nailed it. I mean, was I Medal or Maclay perfect? HELL no! But I did the numbers and made my distances. I'd no sooner finished that course than my trainer gave me another, adding one more jump. We did that well, too. I even managed to make a couple decisions about pace and line without dithering and ruining our momentum.
Inner Me: Shit! This is the 5 stride line! Need to move up. LEG!!!! Ooohhh, that worked well. Amy! Concentrate on the next fence, you dope! It's the 7. Aaack, came in a touch too strong, bending out should help. Oh, yay, that worked too!
Again, was it like watching Amanda Steege or Tori Colvin? Not by a long shot. It was pretty much Get 'Er Done riding. But I got it done without feeling like the wheels were going to fall off and I was going to die throughout the whole thing.
My brain is a funny thing. It either works for me or against me. (Sometimes I think a pre-ride lobotomy would be helpful.? Today it worked for me. Now I just gotta figure out how to get it to do that again.
