Monday, August 7, 2006
Well, I’ll be a horse’s a—. I had no idea my husband could ride a horse. That is, until after the two older kids and I climbed down from a trail ride atop Rudy, Sugar and Spice, three new equine acquaintances that we bounced upon rather awkwardly for an hour (felt like more) today.
See, since Jean turned 8 this summer — the youngest age allowed for trail rides — she’s been buggin’ me to schedule a trip. It was actually on my Summer To-Do List in a previous post. (I’d link to it, but it’s late, I’ve forgotten how and I’m too lazy to check.)
OK, we pack the cooler with waters, fruit and baby bottles, don jeans on a sweltering day and head out to the riding center. Quick (ha) stop at Subway for sandwiches, which are then crammed into mouths en route.
(In picturing the outing the night before, I had imagined a leisurely picnic on the lawn near the stables. Will I EVER stop being late for EVERYTHING?)
We fork over 54 bucks, sign our waivers (the initial fright), take our pick of (flimsy) helmets and wait to be assigned horses. (God, I hope, let mine be able to bear a heavy burden.)
At this point, we realize that the cooler is still sitting in our kitchen, 20 minutes away. Dad puts baby back into car seat for emergency trip home while the kids and I mount our steeds.
I wasn’t about to let my children go bounding away into the unknown, out from under my watchful eye, perched precariously on top of powerful, dangerous animals far above the ground! With no seat belt! A crappy helmet between them and certain death!
Many tree branches, scary creek crossings, horse-fly buckings and saddle sores later, I’m sitting here, on a pillow. Galded.
Here’s the worst part: As I drag my sorry behind off the tired-out trotter, frazzled but proud of myself for braving my fears and letting the kids happily stare death in the face, hubby says to me, “I would have loved to go. I like to ride.”
WHAT?! Married for 17 years and I don’t know that he can ride horses? It was a painful lesson, but now I know who will be taking the next leg of the journey.
At least the kids had fun. And that’s all that really counts, isn’t it?
Parenthood: It sure is a wild ride.
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