Six Months

I've been at my new job for six months tomorrow. It's been a pretty good experience overall, and I think I have mostly moved beyond the intense perfectionistic stress of the first few post-training months into a place where I know what I'm doing more often than not. I've changed direct supervisors and that person seems much more on my wavelength as far as learning and working styles go, so that helps. Learning software that is NOT intuitive in the *least* is still my hardest task, and I think I'm improving my decision-making skills. I don't require constant review of everything I write anymore, and I've been 'released' to send reviews to doctors without sending to my direct supervisor first. And the Virginia Disability Determination Services as a whole won a national award, so we all got 4 hours of extra leave. Sometimes state jobs are nice.

The things I still don't love are being indoors all. day. long. Sitting for hours. Getting completely sucked into the detail-oriented work and realized three hours have gone by without me leaving my chair. The regular 8 hour day schedule. Making less money than I did previously. Not being in a management position for the first time in ten or more years.

I realized this week that I actually have less money now than when I was working last year. I didn't have to pay for child care last year. I didn't have a new car. I didn't go out for lunch because I was too much of a slacker to make my lunch the night before. And I was, even at my hourly rate, actually making a higher salary. Now it feels like most things are a squeeze. I should get a raise in September, and another one a year later, though. And some expenses, like child care, should fall off next year, along with one of the car payments.

It was, and has been, really tough to give up my working-from-home/stay-at-home-mom gig. Economic necessity (and by that I mean, maintaining the lifestyle we had) required it. I'm not 'brave' or particularly noteworthy for doing it, though. It was just a fact of circumstances, and I would rather struggle personally with my changed circumstances than struggle to provide activities and experiences for the kids, and riding and horses for myself and Wren.

I'm off today, and so I have had the ability to put a kid on the bus, make pizza dough from scratch for tonight's dinner, take care of some details for an upcoming horse show I am the volunteer coordinator for, and, yes, get out to the barn and get a ride in. Then I will make homemade pizza for dinner, and head to the museum to give a tour this evening. If I feel really ambitious, I'll vacuum the floors, maybe. It's nice to get a break in the week, but I will be back at work tomorrow. I'm just glad the time change is this weekend so heading to ride after work doesn't mean an intense race against the sun.

Thoughts on transitions

At the beginning of September, 2016, I went back to work full time. I haven't had a full time, out-of-the-home job in just about ten years -- the entire length of my youngest child's life thus far. Up to that point, I had worked part time from home for a company I had been a part of for the entirety of my time here in Richmond. Fifteen years. But in 2016, due to the aging of the company's owners, and the volatile market for health care provider agencies, the company was sold. My work appealing denials of payment for therapy services was not required by the new company, and I was laid off. The first time ever in my life I was let go from a professional job. By the end of the summer, though, I had found a new job, and began that work with a little bit of trepidation. It was full time, outside of the home. The kids would need before-school care, and the ability to let themselves into the house after school. I would no longer be able to run errands for the family, make daytime appointments easily, take time off without too much consideration, and be able to go to the kids' school for awards ceremonies, lunches, or to pick up a sick kid without a re-arranging of my day. I'd have to switch my volunteer work schedule at the museum to all-evening or weekend work.

And I would no longer have the ability to ride in the mornings, to have most days be available to spend a couple hours at the barn after my work was done, riding, helping out, and frankly, being with my friends. I know that sounds like a total first-world problem, and it is. But it was a life I had finally been able to craft for myself, in which I contributed financially to the family, took care of the kids, some house stuff, and our animals, and left time for me to pursue interests that had been gnawing at me for years.

Now, it's not all bad, and I don't mean to complain too much. I mean to reflect a little, and try to make some decisions about how my life is going to go in this new reality in which most everyone else already participates. I like my job, it suits me, and I like my coworkers, even though I am struggling to learn a new and very complex role in which I am no longer the authority figure. It's a state job, so the benefits are fantastic, and I do have some flexibility for appointments, sick kids, and the like. Also -- state holidays!

I generally am not an afternoon or evening person, though, so it's been very difficult for me to remain motivated by the end of a long sedentary day to get my ass out to the barn. I struggle with guilt over leaving my family to fend for themselves in the evenings I ride, and for Travis to have to deal with kid drama as it arises, or the function as the inevitable kid shuttle service to activities.

I find myself struggling with guilt over work when I take a sick day to be home with a kid who needs me, and the guilt when I notice I am thinking if I can possibly schedule some riding time into the sick day without abandoning my kid. Good Parent Guilt never goes away, no matter how old your kids are.

I'm not riding well consistently enough, and show season is coming up in a month. Joe needs to work consistently in order for me to be able to overcome his innate inflexibility, and my general lack of technique. I have goals I want to achieve this year, as always, but finances are tight and time is even tighter. I'm cramming the same number of activities and obligations into MUCH less time, and frankly, I have not yet found a weekly rhythm that I am comfortable with. To top it all off, it's winter, which means my hibernation instincts are strong on grey days, my mental health takes a hit (seasonal, and because of my 'new' life), and the afternoon/evening post-work window for daylight riding is small.

Things will improve; the days will stay lighter longer soon, it won't always be cold and grey (soon I'll be bitching because it's too fucking hot to ride), my kids will grow and become more independent, obligations may change that will make schedules change, and this dressage journey I am on is a long-haul sort of thing. Having the faith that I just need to keep plugging away and do what I can do each day is tough for me, goal-directed and ambitious as I can be. Nobody's pushing me but me. Well, my trainers push me, and my friends encourage me, but nobody is *pressuring* me, I should say.

I hope I figure this thing out soon. I love my guy Joe, and I love to ride, and the best thing that has happened to me in the last four years outside of family stuff has been finding my tribe at Saddlebrook, along with "my" horse, trainers who suit me perfectly, and the atmosphere for myself and Wren to enjoy riding and learn at our pace. I just feel like most of the time I am giving not enough attention to everything. It's a hard place to be, and I dislike it.

If you've read this far, you're a saint. Mostly I'm talking to myself. It's Saturday, and there's nothing on the agenda, and my coffee cup is empty, so I think it's time to head out to the barn and refresh my soul, and get some air, and love on Joe.

SO Much Awesome

Last weekend, Wren participated in the county's club archery tournament at the end f the indoor archery season. She's been struggling with even hitting the target at her distance (I think 18m), not to mention handling the bow and getting the correct shooting posture and sequence. It doesn't help that she is literally the smallest kid in her club, either. She started the season trying to shoot the recurve bow like her big sister, but was convinced by the archery coaches that going with a Genesis Mini compound bow would be a better choice at this point. There were lots of tears and some stomping around about that, but once she hit the target a couple of times, I think she was convinced.

 So when she entered the warmup phase of the tournament, and failed to hit the target with any of the eight arrows she shot....well, the disappointment was evident on her face. However, she has never once thrown a fit or gotten overwhelmingly upset about her difficulty, not the entire season. It's odd to me, since I know she is very aware of what the other kids are doing, and she is definitely the type of kid to want what others have. My job, though, was to stay supportive, tell her I knew she was doing her best, and....just tell her how much I loved watching her shoot. The more I thought about it, and watched her, the more I realized just how amazing she was....not getting upset, just hanging in there and getting back up to the shooting line, time after time after time. Being happy for her small successes ("hey! It bounced off the ground and hit the target!"), and just enjoying the activity. I didn't teach her that, I don't think. She just came to it, enjoying an activity she has wanted to do since she saw the movie, 'Brave'.

It was impressive to watch that afternoon, her 'try'. And she was handsomely rewarded for it, with this:

A bullseye. Amazing. 

Her reaction was priceless (STUNNED!!), and even the parents around us cheered for her. Just a wonderful end to the archery season for her.

 Wren's coach, Melody, takes her picture with the bullseye shot!

And Wren happily tells her scoring partner that, yes, she DID shoot that arrow!

She also managed to earn her 'archer' rank patch, and that really motivated her to keep going. I'm so proud of her, not for the bullseye, although that was great, but for the quiet persistence she showed even in the face of failure. For repeatedly getting her bow and arrows and stepping up to take another shot, for assimilating as much coaching help as she was able to (which wasn't always much, she's 8 after all), and for trying to apply it to the next shot. For not getting frustrated, or wanting to quit. I'm so proud of her for all of that. I admit I didn't expect it, and I am thrilled to see that this orientation exists in her.

It's an understatement that sometimes your kids surprise you.

Official

This past weekend, we officially became horse owners.

Thanks to the generosity and expertise of a friend, Wren and I took a weekend trip to South Carolina in search of her first pony. We have been leasing Gabby, a grey Welsh pony, for Wren for the past year, but the relationship has not been working out well. Wren's riding skills have been regressing and she fought some serious anxiety about riding after suffering several falls over the course of the last year. Honestly, I'm surprised she still even wants to ride at all, really, but her love for the equine species transcends the numerous falls off off the way-too-speedy Gabby, and the way-too-tall Champ.

I was tired of my own stress each riding lesson day, and I hated to see my kid in tears of fear and frustration.

My friend, an accomplished horsewoman and a lover of ponies for little kids, spotted a "diamond in the rough" pony on a Facebook pony sales forum. A few weeks of back and forth communication with the owner, some pictures and video, and the opinion of my friend's mom, and we decided to make the trip down there to see if this really was the pony we had hoped for for Wren.

Turns out, the little thing was pretty darn perfect after all. Fuzzy, in need of nutrition and a good farrier, but sound, healthy, and pretty agreeable to riding.

We loaded her up and made our way on the loooong route back home on Sunday, where we made her comfortable in a stall for the night with plenty of hay and water.

Travis and I visited her Monday, and got her acquainted with her surroundings in the daylight, and I took the kids back to the barn to groom and play and ride her a little bit. It went well, and they had a lot of fun. I think Cinnamon will be a great pony for Wren,and for Noah, too, who has now decided he needs to ride the pony as well.

I'll have the vet out to do shots in a week or so, and the farrier is coming next week. Then I will start the hunt for teeny, tiny, pony-sized tack, and teach this pony to work the way we ride, and it should all be good.

I always thought the first equine to join this family would be a horse for me. I may have to wait a little longer for my own horse now, but being a pony mom is pretty cool.

Now.

Snow day. Starting with teleworking for Travis and myself. And coffee, of course.

 The kids are already absorbed in various Minecraft-related endeavors on the iPads. I swear,sometimes I think we should skip over buying them their own handheld gaming systems and go straight to iPads for both of them. It's a thought. An expensive thought, but a decent one, nonetheless.

No snowfall in Virginia escapes my morning-after snow photography. It's been a long time since I had proper snow boots. Maybe fifteen years or so. I think it might be time to invest in a pair of good, insulated snow boots, like the L.L. Bean boots I wore in college. My rain boots do not cut it when the temps are low.

It's really cold, maybe 15* at the most, which for this part of the south, is pretty chilly. It's four inches of "sweeping snow", the kind you can get off the cars with a broom. For those of us who are transplants from harsher winter climates, it's not that big a deal, but around here, it's cause for school closure, stay-off-the-roads warnings, and the opportunity for teleworking.

It will likely all be melted, or rained, away by the weekend, but it's nice while it lasts, and makes me feel like I have at least a little bit of winter each year.

I love the way our house looks in the winter with a coat of snow.

Even the backyard, fairly utilitarian-looking in the winter, is pretty with a frosting of snow. The dogs love it,but the kids, astonishingly, have not been outside yet.

But I have been outside already; the sunshine is bright, but cold, and everything sparkles.

New Year

It certainly has been a while since I posted. Of course, the holidays meant quite a lot going on, but I was hoping to post something daily, to get in the groove of writing not for appeal to government agencies, but for entertainment and contemplation and information. Ah, well. The important thing is to do what you can, when you can, right?

I love the start of a new year. Everything seems new, seems like a giant reset button was pushed, and even though the school year is in medias res, the morning of January 1 always feels like standing at the horizon of something fresh.

Our holidays were pretty good, marred only (and significantly) by my brother's emergency appendectomy on the Monday before Christmas. He was very ill, and all the parameters of that illness were unknown at the time of the original surgery. Consequently, he spent Christmas in the hospital, along with his fortieth birthday (four days after Christmas), and just when things were looking up, it was necessary for him to spend New Year's in the hospital, too. Two surgeries, a couple of procedures, and one very frightening day later, and he is now home and recovering. I am so glad. My brother and I don't always get along, and I wouldn't say we are particularly close (in that we don't really hang out with each other), but I love him, and it was painful to watch him have to go through this. Thankfully, my parents were, and are, available to help him and to be there to support him.

Christmas was the usual family chaos and joy on Christmas morning. Wren was thrilled to get the doll she wanted, and Kira received her own target archery bow, so now she can get serious. Noah happily played the life out of the new Skylanders game on the Wii. We all ate way too much and enjoyed each other's company. This was the first year I did not bake my usual family "heirloom" cookie recipes. I just wasn't feeling it, so I chose to make my grandmother's date squares (which I can eat by the pound), and some other recipes that were equally yummy, and a nice change of pace.

My Dad made the olive salad. I love that he makes it for me.

We didn't do a whole lot of anything over the break, since my brother was in the hospital, and so was our riding instructor. I helped orchestrate people to fill in at the barn to do chores while she was hospitalized, and we took a couple of turns cleaning stalls and feeding the horses. It worked out pretty well, and I have to admit, I do miss doing the daily work.

I almost bought a horse. I thought I had found the guy who fit not only me, but my budget and immediate aspirations, but he is probably not going to be The One for me. Horse buying is such a difficult thing when you have a low budget, particular needs/wants, and an inability to safely take on a "project" horse. I keep telling myself that MY horse is out there, somewhere, waiting for me to find him, waiting for the right confluence of factors to bring us together, but it's hard to be hopeful sometimes.

Travis and Wren ran in the First Day 5K again. Well, Wren did the kids' one-miler, and she ruled it. Even got her picture in the paper! I'm really proud of her, and of Travis, too, who cut several minutes off his time from last year.

I may make her into a runner, yet. She seems to enjoy it, and it would be fun to be able to run together

The kids are back to school, and Travis has gone back to work. I have some quiet during the day again, and although my work schedule and inbox is full to overflowing, I am hoping to carve out time to create. Sewing the holiday gifts I made reminded me how much I love my sewing machine.

Third

He is small, but growing, into a little boy with the colt-like legs and the rough and tumble way of moving from one place to another that occasionally results in a faceplant on the floor.

Still little enough to hold my hand everywhere we go, he hangs on to me at night, telling me stories about his day, or random bits of information he feels a burning need to communicate. "But I have so much to tell you, Mommy!"

He stepped into a new preschool halfway through  last year, with just about no hesitation and no negative thought. None of the girls' worry -- will they like me? Will I have friends? Will I be okay all day?
He has never been that self-assured before, ever.

Last week, I put him on the school bus for his first 'big-school' experience -- a summer school-readiness program for rising kindergarteners.

After three children, this I know is true: once they enter school, the years flip by with increasing speed, blurring from one to the next like a time-lapse video. One day, you are snapping a shot of a shiny new kindergartener proudly wearing his backpack and carrying a new lunchbox, and then like magic, you look through the lens of your camera to find a young man in a cap and gown.

He is fascinated by the way things work. He identified the mechanics of a car seatbelt buckle when he was four, and has created large Rube-Goldberg-esque machines in the living room that he pretends can make coffee, or ice cream, or dispense any manner of toys or books or other trinkets.

He is starting to read. He can do some simple math. He questions everything, and wants to know how all the machines work. He is constantly chasing, and failing to catch, his big sisters.

He wants so badly to be big.

But he climbs into my lap when I sit on the couch, or the porch, and he slips into my bed in the dark early-morning and pets my arm or touches my cheek. He wants to be with me wherever we go, or he wants to go nowhere and stay at home all day.

He is my last, my baby, and the little boy I didn't know I wanted so much.

Bring it on, Summer!

Summer has officially started here at the Brandel Circus. All three of the kids are out of school now, and we have shifted to what will be the schedule for the next two and a half months.

(I still can't believe Noah is starting kindergarten in the fall.)

We've been getting ready for summer for a while, finding all the fun outdoor toys, stocking up on bubbles and water balloons and getting a new lawn sprinkler. Soon, we'll join the pool, and then the fun really begins!

(I have got to get Wren a better-fitting bike helmet...)

Noah is attending a Kindergarten Readiness camp at the elementary school starting July 1, so in two weeks, my big boy will already be getting on the bus and riding away from here to start his own adventures. Kira will be off to her dad's house for the summer next Friday (boo! We miss her when she's gone!), and Wren and I will probably be at the barn most mornings while Noah is at school. We don't really have any travel plans this summer, what with the horses this summer, and the big trip to Miami last year, and the potential for a Disney vacation next year.

I'm hoping for a July schedule that involves getting to the barn by 8:30 at least three days a week, helping Wren with Gabby (groom, round pen, tack, ride), and then getting in a ride on Champ before heading home to get Noah off the bus at noon. After that, pool time! We'll have to fit in other barn time on the weekends or in the evenings, because Travis has already bemoaned the lack of built-in Turkey time for him. I anticipate much library time, and computer and Wii time, too. Summers are very HOT in Virginia, and I can't say I love being out in the heat of the day.

My kids are predisposed to love books and learning, so I am not too worried about "summer slide", or whatever they are calling it these days, but I am considering making some sight word flashcards for practice with Noah, and getting some math facts cards for Wren. Noah started reading a couple of months ago, and while he is not proficient, he is definitely ahead of his level already, and I'd like to build on that a little.

Somewhere in our schedule, I need to find time to work.

Maybe some day trips will be part of the weekend agenda, maybe we will go camping at the state park near our house. I definitely want to hit the state park's water playground.

I think it's going to be a fun summer.

On Ponies and People

It's starting to feel like a Norse saga, this quest to help Wren learn to ride horses.

Series of scary falls this winter = slightly fearful-in-the-saddle child. Venerable pony who teaches all new little kids passes away in March. A few weeks later, new ponies come who can teach the little kids to ride. Wren falls in love with one of them, an aged paint mare who is super-quiet, and clearly knows her job. She even halts square without being asked. Wren is delighted. Wren decides we will buy said ancient pony and build a barn.

Wren tries to ride in the small barn show this past weekend, but can only muster the courage for two classes and the vaulting. She rides Champ in one class (and freaks out afterward and has to put Champ away), and then is persuaded to ride Candy (aged pony mare) in the Trail class. She vaults on Beau, the 17h Belgian Draft gelding, and gets anxious and cries when she sits on a pony and walks around. I know this is a phase -- she loves horses probably more than I did at her age -- but it's sad and frustrating and disheartening to watch your child struggle this way.

And then. And THEN, the twentysomething year old owner of said new ponies (and two other horses) defaults on the co-op boarding arrangement she had with our trainer, and has to come and take her ponies back. So now there are no dead-quiet ponies to ride.

Now we are struggling with the decision to buy a quiet, older pony for Wren to learn on, or just tough it out and see what happens over the summer with the school ponies that are already in the barn. Ancient pony, Candy, is twenty, and needs some groceries and some care, but seems otherwise healthy. She certainly knows her job. Check out this square halt in the Trail class on Sunday:

Seriously. I mean, look at that.

We don't know what to do. I asked our trainer for her input and advice, so I am waiting to hear back from her on the subject. Summer's coming, which should easily equal more time out at the barn, riding, for both of us, but it's such a big risk, I feel almost paralyzed by the choices and options.

And, then there is Boston.

As a runner, and a parent, and a spouse, and hell, as a person in the world, I am beyond appalled by the horrible acts of deranged people. I have crossed the finish line of a few races, including the Monument Avenue 10K, which regularly has tens of thousands of walkers and runners. Crossing that line was one of the most exhilarating, empowering, emotional experiences I've ever had. I can't even fathom what it would be like to forever have the terror of a bombing attached to that experience. When I went out for what ended up being a fairly crummy run last night, it was all I could think about -- what it was like to run for miles, and then, come within sight of the finish, people cheering, your friends and family cheering, waiting to fold you in their arms and celebrate a significant accomplishment with you...and then to have it all taken away by horror and pain and destruction wrought by some bottom-feeding asshole with fucked-up internal wiring.

I thought about the thousands of runners who were competing in their first Boston Marathon who didn't get to finish, who were stopped a mile or so before the end and told the race was over, because of aforementioned Bottom-Feeding Asshole. Or the people who will now never run again because BFA fixed it so they had their legs blown off while watching and cheering from the sidelines. Their legs. When they went down to watch the runners, they had their legs, and they used them to get to the best vantage point for watching the finish. And then, by 3pm, they were amputees. I can't even...

And that one, completely devastated family whose father/husband ran the marathon, and who has now lost a son, and has a daughter and wife/mother critically injured, and a daughter who witnessed the horror.

I am so very tired of horrible people. I am so very tired of people sometimes.

I wonder what races and sporting events will look like now. Will I have to forgo my husband and kids cheering for me from the sidelines at the finish in order to be safe while I compete? What will we do as a society about whatever is causing people to lose their minds and inflict this kind of craziness? What IS causing this sort of thing to happen?

Conspiracy theorists and tea party people need not comment. There's nothing you have to say that I am willing to listen to.

I guess for now, the best thing to do is.....carry on. I am pledged to run 26.2 for Boston, and my goal is to complete that as quickly as possible without injuring myself. I think it will take me two and a half weeks, tops. I'm not going to stop running. Or riding, or going out or being at concerts or fairs or street festivals or sporting events. To do that gives the BFA's of this world power that they are not entitled to.

Tomorrow, I will run.

An Adventurous Week

It's not called 'Adventures in Living!' for nothing, you know.

Monday found us enjoying the start of Spring Break for all three kids. The weather was gorgeous, for a change, and the kids played outside. Wren decided she was ready to learn to ride a two-wheeler bike without training wheels, so after about an hour of my teaching her progressively to balance the bike at rest, then coasting down the driveway, she was able to pedal it successfully! I took the little kids and their bikes over to Wren's elementary school where they rode and rode and rode in the bus loop. Wren was positively exuberant!

Not to be outdone by his big sister, Noah has already asked me to teach him to ride, too. We haven't gotten to it yet (more on that in a minute), but it will be part of the plan this summer, for sure.

Tuesday found Wren and I making a quick run out to the barn to see the farrier work on the horses, and to pay the first bit of the lease fees. In the afternoon, we got together with friends for more bike riding in the church parking lot, and playground time. Then, my friend Sara graciously offered to keep the kids overnight for a sleepover so I could work on a big museum tour I was giving on Wednesday.

Travis and I got to go out for dinner in the middle of the week. By ourselves. That almost never happens.

After a supremely decadent Tuesday evening and the utter silence of Wednesday morning, I gave a fabulous tour to a group of Art Therapy graduate students. The topic was one of my very most favorites, 'Symbolism in Medieval/Renaissance/Baroque Art'. Oh yeah, right up my alley! It was fascinating research that I wish I could have done more of, and it was a terrific group of students and their professors, who asked great, thought-provoking questions, and had enough background art and history knowledge that it made for an excellent interaction.

I'm in the process of researching the answer to a question one of the students had that I was unable to answer -- which, by the way, do any of my readers/friends have any citations for the origin of the use of 'Madonna' to describe the Virgin Mary with the Christ Child? I can find a general answer -- that it probably originated with Italian Renaissance painters ('madonna' means 'my lady'), but I have nothing besides Wikipedia to cite, and I'd like to do better.

Wednesday night was a terrific lesson on Champ. I feel so much better about my jumping. We worked on one jump on a circle and practiced timing, position, and the canter lead change. I can't always get the change behind, but he does it pretty well up front. He was a good boy, though, and I showed Kathy his new skill of closing the ring gate when we leave. I say "Shut it, Champ" and he pushes the gate closed with his nose. Quarter Horses are so smart!

By early Thursday morning, things got interesting when I spent most of the night up with Noah, who we thought had a serious GI bug, poor kid. Lots of vomiting and a really high fever with chills. Yuck. Thankfully, Travis was able to stay home and help me. Wren went to riding camp in the morning, and I came home to take a nap after another museum tour for college students. Then I came home to find this beautiful scene in our living room.

Wren had a spectacular day at camp, and she was thrilled to get to see and ride one of the new ponies. She made no bones about the fact that paint ponies are her favorite and that she was going to buy one of the two of them as soon as possible. I told her she was going to have to be able to ride at the trot at least before we'd even think about buying a pony.

An uneventful evening was followed by a nail-biter of a Friday morning, in which Noah woke up seemingly worse -- fever, sore throat, headache, NECK PAIN, holy crap....any of those things without the neck pain, and I would have been less stressed, but when your five-year-old is whimpering and looks like hell, and won't bend his neck, AND had hallucinated a couple times during the night....well, thoughts start to bend toward meningitis. Especially when the supposed GI bug doesn't manifest itself like it was supposed to. And then you peek under the jammies and find a red rash all over the little body....needless to say, it was a bit of a scare. Travis took him straight to the pediatrician, although he wanted to go to the ER (I told him better to go thru the doc's office to avoid the all-day ER wait), and I gathered Wren up and took her to riding camp.

Waiting for the information from the doctor's office was hard. I tried to think of all the possibilities for his symptoms that didn't include viral or bacterial meningitis. And then I remembered that the only sure way to diagnose it would be with a lumbar puncture, and then I started wondering if my morning was going to include holding my child down while someone stuck a needle in his back. Ugh. By the time we got to the barn, I was kind of a mess. Thankfully, I got a text from Travis almost immediately, in which he said the doctor was positive it was strep. Oh! Thank GOD! The one possibility that never even entered my mind! Seriously, I have never been so happy to hear a strep diagnosis in my life.

Antibiotics, rest, comfy jammies, and lots of ice cream were today's priorities. He looks a little better now, but is definitely still sick, poor guy.

Travis and I feel like we have been hit by trucks and run through the wringer. I see a beer in my future, after the kids are in bed, and Kira has been delivered to her father.

Life IS an adventure, to be sure. Sometimes it would be nice if some of the adventures weren't so intense!

The weather is supposed to seriously improve in the next day or so....let's hope I can carve out some time to spend with Champ.

Keepsake

Last year, right around this time of year, actually, Wren started to learn to ride. I chose Hunter's Ridge Equestrian Center in Powhatan, VA, because I liked the phone conversation I had with the owner and trainer, Kathy Pitt. She was knowledgeable, friendly and kind, took care of her horses well, and most of all, was willing and able to teach a very young child the skills necessary to ride. Wren was six, and completely in love with horses.

We met Keepsake, the venerable pony.

Twenty-six years old, a Welsh pony mare, and quiet and dignified, Keepsake was the perfect beginner's pony. She was tall, just about 14 hands, but she was calm, and slow, and tolerated just about anything happening on her back or around her and barely batted an eye.

Wren rode her all spring and summer, and in the fall, the time came for Keepsake to be retired. Wren had moved on somewhat to Champ, and Lily, and even took a shot at riding Gabby (which ended in her first fall), but Keepsake was always her favorite. We told her she was Keep's last little girl to teach to ride.

After Wren had a couple of confidence-shaking falls in the crummy cold weather this winter, Keepsake came out of retirement so Wren could regain some of the confidence she lost. All Keepsake was really up for these days was walking, so that is what she and Wren did.

Wren was lucky enough to have a couple of lessons more on Keepsake, and I am happy that we got a few more pictures of shaggy, beautiful, sweet Keepsake.

January 2nd of this year, Keepsake suffered a small stroke, but recovered, and wasn't permanently affected.

Sometime yesterday, Keepsake, who was afflicted with melanoma, a slow-growing cancer common to grey horses and ponies, became ill. She colicked, and couldn't recover this time, and the decision was made to let her go.

I am so eternally grateful that Wren had her in her life, and that she was able to have a good experience with her. I am worried that Wren will not want to ride anymore, without her staid and solid pony friend.

We're really going to miss you, Keepsake, but I know you are galloping around greener pastures.

I just have no idea how to tell Wren.

Committed

I mailed in my entry for the Calais Horse Trials yesterday afternoon. I'm committed now, and I'm going to do it, even though the preliminary forecast is for rain that day. But there's still almost two weeks to go yet, so maybe that will change.

I've got my show clothes, and I finished the garment bag I decided to make, on a whim, last week.
It's even got my heraldry on it! I think I am going to make a small accessory bag to go with it, too, for all those little things I have to have, like hair stuff and a stock pin and my choker for my show shirt. I'm trying to decide if I want that bag to be a flat type of bag with a zipper on top, or do I want the bag more three dimensional, like a box. Still thinking. Maybe something like this. Or even bigger (better?), this one. I'm kind of a container/bag/box/tote junkie, though, so I may just make both. Heh. Anyway, here is the garment bag, all finished:

The bag came out pretty darn good, and I am pleased with it. It's heavy cotton duck canvas with a heavy sport zipper and an ID pocket underneath my badge. It's maybe an inch or so wider than it needs to be on each side, but that gives me more room for bulk inside. The inside is finished with my serger, which is fine, but I wish I'd lined it in regular cotton or something, just for the super-clean interior finish, not because it needs it. Next one, maybe. There's always that balance in a project where you want to make it the way you want, but you also want to make sure you don't run out of steam and actually FINISH the project. I was determined to get this finished, so no lining. ;)

Maybe the next one will be made of waterproof fabric or something.

My packing list is made. I think I have almost everything I need, except a dark green polo shirt, a belt, and some hairnets.

This is going to be fun! And I promised myself a big bottle of Dogfish Head Sah'Tea for AFTER the event.

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On the subject of making things, and so my non-equestrian friends aren't totally bored by my ramblings, here are some of the random ideas I've had and executed lately:

A halter tag for Champ (of course):

A copper bracelet for my wonderful daughter, to remember her dog:

A copper bracelet for me, so I remember one of the essentials of riding:

(it says 'ALWAYS get back on', with a stamped horseshoe on either side)

And a clown costume for Noah for his preschool's Clown and Circus Day (not so much made, as cobbled together):

And because I couldn't resist how cool she looked, here is a picture of the future graphic/digital artist at work with her drawing tablet:

I'm itching to get on the torch these days -- LOTS of ideas -- but today I have some appointments and day-job work, and I really need to get a run in. We'll see. Just like the trees start to reawaken after the winter, my creative fire is being stoked by the change in seasons. Let's hope that fire leads to my playing with fire SOON.

No one can find the rewind button.....

The long Friday night drive wasn't always contentious. It used to be filled with chatter, and music, but the silences changed once she discovered personal music systems, and my radio station choices weren't cool enough. Oh, we still talk, and these days it's about the big stuff, more often than not -- drugs, alcohol, sex, who is doing what to whom and why that matters -- but it's not the same as it used to be. Now, getting in the car sometimes feels like being trapped for an hour and a half with a caged animal, unpredictable, wrought with emotion. I try to look at this time as a place for her to unload, and to explore ideas and discuss things, but some of the ideas push those hidden, super-sensitive buttons in my psyche, and the drive turns into a couple of hours of parental verbal and emotional flailing.

Silence. Wild gesturing. Accusations, sarcasm, bitterness, drama.

And not all of it from me, either.

It's hard to remember she is just fourteen, an age that seems simultaneously grown up and still so childish. Interminable, and instantaneous. She will not hold on to these views forever. YOU did not hold on to your views forever.

She will be all right.

I struggle against the outside influences that I don't want her to be immersed in, as any good parent does, try to help her steer her ship through the stormy sea of adolescence without actually steering it FOR her, but the sea is full of flotsam, and the sharks are everywhere. It's hard to teach her to see the rays of light through the clouds, when they are constantly shifting and disappearing in her view.

The world is inherently a good place, people are basically good. Don't be naive, but look at the world with joy. Don't be afraid of the dark elements that exist --  you can avoid them, even if others with you do not. Don't judge too much, or hold yourself up too high. While there will always be someone who may do something better than you do, there will never be another YOU like you.

Sometimes I feel that quiet desperation that my job is almost done -- have I done enough? Have I taught the right things, imparted the wisdom she won't even understand for a few years yet? It's a breathless feeling, knowing that "life's like an hourglass, glued to the table".

We arrive, finally, without the arguments that have been so prevalent of late. A few minutes to pet the ponies, to chat about horses, and then she is ready to leave me. I hug her as completely as she'll let me. "I love you, have a great weekend!" I call, as I do every time I leave. I don't expect to hear it in return, though I know she means it.

Unguarded, "I love you, Mom!", as she runs into the house.

Weekend

This past weekend, Travis was in school pretty much all day for his photography class. That meant me and the two kids home by ourselves. It was terribly cold, but I knew we had to get out of the house. A trip to the local winter farmer's market was just the ticket!

Luckily, there was a cool playground to explore!

And quite a good number of vendors, too! Artisan cheeses, wool and yarn, jewelry, cold-weather veggies, lovely breads and baked things, food trucks with all manner of tasty treats. And of course, the REAL reason I wanted to go to the market....

Yoder's Doughnuts!! These things have to be available in heaven. I kid you not. I don't even like doughnuts, really, and I could eat a dozen of these beauties all by myself. Sourdough, yeast-raised doughnuts being made freshly one at a time....oh holy mother....and then glazed with the best, not too sweet vanilla glaze. I had one while it was still HOT, standing outside in the cold, and I thought I would die from the yum. Best. Doughnuts. EVER.

They're made by a Mennonite family of five kids and their mom, and I think they are from Madison County, where I used to live. It's about a 2 hour drive, and they are there every Saturday.

At the market, we also saw sheep and goats, and got to pet them both. Wren was particularly taken by these animals, and declared we have to have one of each. When we get our farm, finally, dear, then we will. :)

I loved the soft wool of this sheep. I even bought some grey wool roving form this vendor, so I could needlefelt a small version of the pony Wren rides, Keepsake. And speaking of needlefelting, Champ goes everywhere with us now, riding on the dash of my car.

It was a great, if very very cold, morning. I think we'll have to do that again, especially for the doughnuts!