Moms are often an afterthought in society, but the truth is--we run the world. We do it while sleep deprived and often working full time.
I am the mom of two elementary age daughters and two very furry dogs. I am the wife to a hard working dude that comes home every night to a chaos filled house, and he rolls with whatever he finds here at home.
Because I want my kids to have epic summers, I find as many fun and inexpensive summer activities as I can find. I like to keep them really busy and tired so they remember what a wonderful mother I am. And also so they fight less and don’t expect me to play barbies with them.
This week is “Horse Camp.” It’s the least expensive horse back riding experience I could find locally. “Horse camp” is a really lose term here because it’s a camp that meets for two days for four hours each day. To me, it sounds more like a clinic, but CAMP is so much more exciting. At $100 a day, it can be called Horse Camp.
Last night we rushed around gathering up cowgirl boots, and laying out plaid shirts and jeans. Today the alarm went off at 7:03 am. When it went off I knew I should have set it to go off sooner, but I still proceeded to hit snooze. At 7:13, thirty-two minutes before we were to leave, I rolled out of bed. My oldest was still snoring in my bed where I’d listened to her sleep for half the night while I stared up at the dark ceiling and felt her knees in my side. I shook her awake and said “HORSE CAMP DAY!! Wake up! Get dressed.” She jumped excitedly out of bed, and I went to wake up the little one. I climbed the stairs to her loft bed, and only her eyes and nose were visible through her pile of blankets. She was in a deep sweet sleep. She is the child who we didn’t see sleep for the first five years of her life. We thought she didn’t actually sleep, and that maybe she just laid with her eyes open until it was time to get up. Here she is sleeping peacefully snuggled into her covers. I kiss her face awake and say “HORSE CAMP DAY!! Wake up!! Get dressed!!”
Out of excitement everyone is dressed in record time. Dad is up eating breakfast and making helpful suggestions on what the girls should do to get ready. His suggestions are met with angry groans from the oldest and quiet ignoring from the youngest. Breakfast. Meds. Teeth. Hair. Snacks packed. Coffee. Where’s the giant to-go coffee cup? We need to leave in ONE minute. Coffee. I find it and fill it to the brim with creamy, hot, life-giving deliciousness. We manage to make it into the car in one trip.
I remembered everything.
Shoes. Keys. Snacks. Coffee. Kids. Payment. Everything. I am nailing it.
We have eleven minutes to make a fourteen minute drive. I can do it. My GPS keeps rerouting me off the of dirt roads, but I want to take them because it takes two minutes off the drive. I’m like a Nascar driver as I drive around the roundabout. I’m patting myself on the back for being such an excellent roundabout driver. I hit the dirt roads going 37 miles per hour and increase my spread. These country people drive 55 mph on these bumpy things, I can do at least 42 mph! I don’t slow down until we see the barn in the distance. One more turn and we see the barn over a hill. It’s 7:59. We are completely on time. I pull into the barn parking lot.
There’s no one else in sight.
I remember to remind the oldest to take her snacks. We all get out of the car commenting on the strong smell of horse and barn. We go to the “Tack Store,” I open the door and call, “Hello? Anyone in here?” No answer. I’m wondering if my kids are the only ones at this “camp.” I’m thinking they must be hard pressed for cash if they’re doing “Camp” for two kids. Buuuuut $100 for 4 hours isn’t a bad pay out. So maybe it makes sense. We are walking towards the barn. There’s an indoor arena. I call “Hello!” Suddenly it occurs to me.
Do I have the wrong day?
My mind fills with silence and then I think, “Camp must be tomorrow.” I pull up the info on my phone. I ask the girls the date because obviously they’re responsible and know stuff like that. Yep. It’s tomorrow. I try and keep it light. I laugh and tell them we have the wrong day. The littler one laughs at me and the older one stomps to the car angry because I’ve once again “ruined her life” and she “never gets to do what she wants.” We load back up into the car and I say things like “Well at least now we know where to go tomorrow!!” and “Today was just practice for being here on time tomorrow.”
The oldest isn’t buying it. She’s glaring out the window. From the back seat the littler one pipes up. “We weren’t here on the wrong day mom. We were just early. Twenty-four hours early.” That’s my girl. Yep. We were early. The okayest Moms are always early.
Written by our editor Heather Fenner
Pictures by Jenifer Veloso and Heather Fenner