This past weekend opened up a whole new can of Mama Bear Roars that I didn’t even know existed. All her life Baby Girl has been gushed over and cooed at and told she’s adorable. As her Mama, I just glowed with the never ending praise of her and never had any reason to have to defend her or protect her feelings because nothing negative had EVER happened. Until Sunday.
I have been teaching children for about 20 years. I have been their coach, their cheer leader, their champion, their devil’s advocate, and their other mom. I have loved them and respected them, and with some, got close enough to have fantastic relationships with them throughout their childhood and into adulthood. I have cried with them, cried over them, and cried because of them.
But NOTHING prepares you for the strength of the love you have for your very own child that bears your entire heart in her tiny little body. When she cries, you want to cry. When she hurts, your heart breaks. When they are first learning about this world they live in you rejoice in their discoveries and watch with wonder as their world expands around them. They have such joy with all things that you are completely unprepared for their first taste of disappointment. Getting peed on by a frog is not the same thing, y’all.
As a horse trainer and riding instructor mom, it was my dream for my little girl to ride horses herself. I could not wait for the moment she would get to wear braids and jodphurs and sit on that pony at her first horseshow. I bought the pink and blue bows with the “S” monogram on them about 6 months ago. I searched eBay for the littlest boots I could find. A friend gave her the cutest little black show gloves. Baby Girl and her Sissy practiced walking, practiced jump position and were totally pumped for her first lead line class. Sissy would take Baby Girl in the arena while Mama and Dada cheered from the sidelines. All Baby Girl’s friends (my students and their parents) would be watching. They were all just as excited as she was. The parents volunteered to take pictures and video, the girls did Apolo’s (the pony) hooves and were on standby for however they might be needed. We showed up at the arena at about 8:45 am ready for the class to start around 9:00. There were four other little girls in her class so it was going to be a competition! (Where they all win blue ribbons and stuffed ponies of course).
And we waited. Now, I KNOW all about the “hurry up and wait” issue at shows. Lord knows I’ve been to about a billion shows. But as we waited for the conflict in the other ring to end so Baby Girl’s class could go, she soon got tired of being on the pony. OK let’s get down and play with the doggie for a little while. Thirty minutes later the doggie was done playing and Baby Girl was ready to do something else. She’s pretty good at entertaining herself so she played with rocks, ate candy, and messed with her sister. After TWO HOURS the class still had not gone. At this point it’s going on 11 am and it’s time for Baby Girl’s nap. Sissy puts Baby Girl back on the pony and takes her over to the little field to walk around, where inevitably, disaster strikes. A horse spooked and Apolo jumped sideways slightly and Baby Girl falls off. On the opposite side of where Sissy was so she couldn’t even catch her. Baby Girl is now in tears and no longer wants to ride. She wants her paccy and her snuggie and she wants to go home.
Finally I ask if I could take her in the arena to walk around once because it was obvious we were not going to make it until whenever the class would eventually be held. Baby Girl cried all the way around the arena. Not because she was scared to ride but because she was just pooped. She had actually been at the show all day Friday, all day Saturday, and then this whole morning. She had been so good the entire time and she was just DONE. Dada then took her home where she finally fell asleep for the afternoon.
I was disappointed for her, because she did not get to do what she had practiced so hard for, and I was disappointed for myself because the moment I had been dreaming of had gone up in smoke. I thought I would complain to the President of the organization about making the little girls wait for almost three hours for their class. (I was told the class finally went about 45 minutes after Baby Girl left). Y’all – these girls are all 2 1/2 to 4 or 5 years old. They are doing Lead Line for pete’s sake. They should not have to wait three hours. Concessions should be made. Figure It The F**K Out is what I wanted to say. I managed not to say exactly that, but as I made my complaint I was astounded by the response I received. Zero compassion for the little girls. Zero tolerance for my disappointment and anger. And yes, I yelled. I didn’t start out yelling, but when your complaint and your concerns are not heard and not acted on and you are standing there trying to advocate for your child’s feelings and you are not winning, a Mama Bear suddenly and ferociously consumes you. I walked out of that office stunned and heartbroken. Then I saw those other little girls who had managed to wait it out and were able to participate in their class. I saw them on their ponies with their blue ribbons and I lost it. Thankfully a good friend of mine was there on her massive horse to shield my tears from the general public.
Later that day the Show Manager did try to make things right for which I am extremely grateful. She was kind, and compassionate and even offered to re-do the class. She reacted to my disappointment in a way that dispelled my anger and made me feel heard. Such an important thing to do for someone who had looked forward to this moment for such a long time.
Baby Girl will get to show again, I know. There will be more shows, more ribbons, and plenty of good times. But the very first show will never happen again. That moment can never be replaced, and it was tainted with tears and disappointment. However, I have a ton of photos of her smiling in her bows with her pony, her Sissy, her Dada and me. And that’ll have to be what we remember. Smiles and Good Friends.
