The Spaz lives vicariously through her daughter... and other stuff, too...

I haven't had a lot of blogging time lately and part of that is due to my attempt to organize my life.  Working on getting my proverbial crap together hasn't left me a whole lot of time to flit around the blogosphere or post anything of my own.

But things are looking a little more together in Spazland.

One of the things on my list was to get the kids involved in the activities they've been begging to do for years. While my kids have always been fairly busy with friends and family, they've never been really involved in too many extra-curricular activities. Bug was involved in scouts for a year, Munchkin has girl scouts and Goober played one season of flag football, but other than that the kids mostly spend their time playing with friends and lounging around the house proclaiming boredom.

So it was a big goal of mine to get them each involved in an extra-curricular activity.  Bug enters middle school next year and I know how easy it is for unoccupied middle-schoolers to get themselves into trouble.  Munchkin's only a year behind him, too.  So in an attempt to keep them out of the path of certain mayhem, I'm planning to keep them busy.

Not only that, but summer is quickly barreling down upon us and I definitely want the kids to have some stuff to do this summer. 

The boys have both been begging for karate lessons for what seems like forever. In fact, I distinctly remember last summer getting a pamphlet for a karate school outside of the movie theater and thinking that I had been thinking about putting the boys in karate forever.  And that was a year ago. 

So the time has come.  Today the boys will take their first karate lesson.  They're following in the footsteps of The Man who spent nearly his entire youth in a karate studio.  They're both so excited they reminded me of the lesson this morning before school. 

Munchkin, a girl after my own heart, wanted nothing more than to saddle up and take riding lessons.  I winced when I researched the cost of lessons, but finally found a place not too far away that was almost reasonable.  I set up a lesson for her on Friday afternoon and went on an all day quest to locate boots and a helmet at thrift stores before her lesson.  I did score a pair of paddock boots in her size for $5, but the helmet we had to buy new.  I guess it all evened out.

Friday afternoon, Munchkin could barely contain herself as we drove to the barn. We live in horse country. We have dressage show grounds so close to us that we can hear the announcers from our back yard when the wind is right. We're a hop, skip, and small jump away from polo country and the most elite of Florida's hunter/jumper society.

But that's not what I want for Munchkin.  When I was growing up, the barn I rode at was laid back.  Sure, we could put on our best breeches and boots and fit in with the crowd at the shows on the weekends, but back at the barn there was no pretension.  We had broken fences and weedy grass and broken pick up trucks in the back.  And when I was growing up it was my favorite place to be.

So when I pulled into the driveway at the barn where Munchkin was starting lessons, I was thrilled when a little Jack Russel terrier came running over to us and jumped right up on us.  I was elated to see patches of sand and fences that hadn't seen a coat of paint in at least a decade.  We called over the fence to a girl who was in the barn and she motioned for us to come on in, even though there were several horses grazing in the yard right outside of the barn.  A big, dark brown Thoroughbred named Bud walked right over and greeted us and I thought Munchkin might faint with delight.

The girl brought out a large pony named Misty and clipped some leads on to her to get her tacked up for Munchkin's lesson. Munchkin couldn't resist giving Misty a hug as she was being brushed.  I thought I might cry.  Instead, I took pictures.



During the lesson I had to keep myself from shouting my own instructions out to Munchkin.  I kept apologizing to her instructor, who was incredibly patient with both Munchkin and her pain in the ass mother.  I promised that from now on, I'd just drop Munchkin and go since I obviously couldn't keep my mouth shut.



Munchkin gained a lot of confidence during her lesson and by the end of it had gotten the hang of trotting and posting and getting Misty to move even when she didn't want to.  When the lesson was over, Munchkin truly didn't want it to end.  Misty, however, was thrilled to be done and ready to get back to grazing.



Her next lesson is scheduled for tomorrow. I promised I wouldn't stay and watch. Hopefully it won't kill me to just drop her off.  

I was a horse crazy adolescent girl

*Pictures for this post were taken directly out of my teenage scrapbook, hence the look. And OMGOSH you have to love the way I labeled them. I used the word "spiff"... seriously, why does no one use that word? Ah, to be 15 again.*

It all began when my friend, Heather, moved into our neighborhood. She was horse crazy. I think one of the reasons her parents even chose to move into our neighborhood was because of the zoning that allowed people to have horses. We must have been in about the 5th grade when Heather's parents bought her a horse. His name was Crockett and we loved him.

Crockett was a Quarter Horse and he let us abuse him however we pleased. We rode him all over the neighborhood (which was a very large and rural place), through lakes, across canals, over haphazard overturned logs in the woods he would jump with both of us on his back. Crockett was perfect.

It wasn't too long, though, before one horse and two girls didn't seem to make much sense anymore. So Heather and I looked for another option. That's when I started shoveling poo. Down the street was a large barn of Arabians owned by a wonderful lady named Pam. Heather took lessons there and Pam let me ride her trusty lesson horse, Rama, as long as I took good care of her and mucked stalls a bit. Thinking back, Pam was a saint to let me do it. If I could find her right now I'd write her a letter of thanks.

I wish I had a picture of Rama, but I don't. She wasn't beautiful, though she may have been when she was younger. She was an old chestnut mare who was patient and kind to me. She could be stubborn, but she was smarter than the average mule and kept me out of trouble. It was on Rama that I took my first lesson, paid for out of the kindness of Pam's heart.

After I had advanced a bit, Pam decided I needed an actual horse to show. That was when I started riding Butch.

The two of us never really got along. He had no respect for me and I didn't care for him much either, but we were forced to deal with each other. Pam insisted I ride in a show and Rama just wouldn't do. So Butch and I dealt with each other.

Here we are at the show. It was a Dressage Show. Butch and I entered the ring and started our routine... but then I'm not sure what happened. I was nervous, he hated me, he jumped out of the ring.

I was so mad I couldn't see straight. I made him jump back INTO the ring and I finished our routine. Pam said she'd never seen me ride so well as when I was mad at that stupid horse. Needless to say I didn't win the blue ribbon.

After that show I started riding Lindo. She was a beautiful black Paso Fino and she and I had a great time together. There was no pressure. The only horse shows I entered with Lindo were fun. She was gaited so she didn't bounce and we won every Halloween fun kid show where we had to balance an egg on a spoon or hold as much water in a cup as possible. She liked to run and I liked to let her run as fast as she wanted to go until sand started to blind my eyes and I'd have to nestle my head down close to her neck to block it. She could fly and I loved her.

I guess it was when I started to become interested in boys... or when boys became interested in me... I'm not sure. I started going to the barn less and less and finally I just stopped altogether. It's one of my biggest regrets. I miss the feeling of becoming one with that animal. I miss Lindo and how I could let her do whatever she wanted, go where she wanted to go, and just see where I ended up.

Some day I'll ride again. :)

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