Release the Hounds
If I were a von Trapp singer my note would be "me". In fact, it would be my SONG. I like to sing-a, rootn-toot... we are off to the interior of the province, where there is evil snow, on Thursday to attend the funeral. Not mine thankfully, but with my theme song, it's only a matter of time.
In any event, this trip will entail flying with e for the first time. I don't want her to see her father cry, white-knuckled, as we accelerate down the runway, but I guess it's time for her to learn that, in addition to being somewhat obnoxious, I am a total pussy. Thankfully it is a commuter-type flight so she will see it twice in an hour and then, I hope, forget. I can tell you, the passengers with whom I travel will not enjoy it as I wail and kick the seat in front of me for the whole flight, and shout "NO!" when asked if I want to rent a pillow or to enjoy the complimentary 1/2 ounce bag of fish crackers. It won't be the first time I embarrass the kid and it won't be the last. Oh no, not the last.
This trip will also be significant in that e will be introduced to actual real-live members of the equine family, which is something I wanted to postpone until she was, say, 21. Alas, it is not to be. We will stay at my mother's backwoods hideaway where, among mater's menagerie, reside two ponies. Ponies. Stretchy beige pants, knee boots, velvet helmets- normally, this evokes warm happy feelings in this writer, but not so when horses, or rather, horse people are involved. I have been to hell and it is equestrian (with apologies to Andrea of Japan, who is built of sterner stuff than am I). What do the four figures of the apocalypse ride - horses! Not ponies, granted, but when they were the Horse Children of the Apocalypse, they rode ponies and bankrupted their dads. I remember well the debates in my household as sis went from renting to training to owning to braiding the... ponies, the horses, the sea-horses, whatever. I will never, can never, earn enough to support my child if she develops a horse jones... the fear is growing, like she's some kind of hunter-jumper already, even though she is only 17 months old. I am, appropriately, catastrophizing.
Lest you conclude I am completely irrational on this subject, which is close to the truth, I will relate a quote from my mother on the occasion of being told mo-wo was expecting for the first time: Do you want me to breed the pony?
P-man.
In any event, this trip will entail flying with e for the first time. I don't want her to see her father cry, white-knuckled, as we accelerate down the runway, but I guess it's time for her to learn that, in addition to being somewhat obnoxious, I am a total pussy. Thankfully it is a commuter-type flight so she will see it twice in an hour and then, I hope, forget. I can tell you, the passengers with whom I travel will not enjoy it as I wail and kick the seat in front of me for the whole flight, and shout "NO!" when asked if I want to rent a pillow or to enjoy the complimentary 1/2 ounce bag of fish crackers. It won't be the first time I embarrass the kid and it won't be the last. Oh no, not the last.
This trip will also be significant in that e will be introduced to actual real-live members of the equine family, which is something I wanted to postpone until she was, say, 21. Alas, it is not to be. We will stay at my mother's backwoods hideaway where, among mater's menagerie, reside two ponies. Ponies. Stretchy beige pants, knee boots, velvet helmets- normally, this evokes warm happy feelings in this writer, but not so when horses, or rather, horse people are involved. I have been to hell and it is equestrian (with apologies to Andrea of Japan, who is built of sterner stuff than am I). What do the four figures of the apocalypse ride - horses! Not ponies, granted, but when they were the Horse Children of the Apocalypse, they rode ponies and bankrupted their dads. I remember well the debates in my household as sis went from renting to training to owning to braiding the... ponies, the horses, the sea-horses, whatever. I will never, can never, earn enough to support my child if she develops a horse jones... the fear is growing, like she's some kind of hunter-jumper already, even though she is only 17 months old. I am, appropriately, catastrophizing.
Lest you conclude I am completely irrational on this subject, which is close to the truth, I will relate a quote from my mother on the occasion of being told mo-wo was expecting for the first time: Do you want me to breed the pony?
P-man.
posted by p-man at 9:01 p.m.
2 Comments:
You know, it`s funny, but very few little Japanese girls are horse crazy. Oh, I`m sure a few wealthy ones are, and some in the countryside, but my daughter and her city friends couldn`t have cared less.
My daughter is 9 and loves "My Little Pony" and unicorns and all kind of fanciful horse-based creatures. But when I told her we`d be moving to America and she could ride the real thing if she wanted to, she asked, "WHY?"
That is interesting L. hmmm
I guess horses are more a part of our culture in general.
I grew up with horses but I have no idea if I can actually provide it for my child/children. My parents were farmers and I dont want to live that life. But my father had to work another full time job in order to provide it for us. hmm
I am counting on grandpa to be the money provider and caretaker of any horse that comes our way: he has the land. lol.
My husband met a horse for the first time when he went to Canada a few years ago, he would be greatful if my daughter stuck to judo or something like that. hehe
Post a Comment
<< Home