This page will rotate articles that were originally published in Practical Horseman or Chronicle of the Horse.

                    A caution worth noting

HORSE SHOW MOM

You're Into it -- Or Else!

I'm four years into this sport as a spectator, groom, banker (with help from my dear husband, of course), chauffeur,  cook, cheerleader, seamstress, gofer, and companion.  I am that person standing at the in-gate holding the pony's cooler, watching my breath come out in little puffs of freezing vapor, wondering why the ponies have to show in the outdoor ring.  Don't the organizers know its November?   Don't they think it would be more sensible to have the children show inside and the adults outside?

Of course if they did that, the adults wouldn't come to the show.   And being parents, we'll come to anything for our kids.

We will also do amazing things for our kids.  For instance, we will muck stalls. Most of my adult life (until a few years ago) I thought the expression "mired in the muck" was strictly a metaphor. I guess not. And we will wash ponies at 5:30 AM. At least once, anyway. I remember my first wash duty with vivid clarity: the ice water running under the cuff of my down jacket all the way up to my armpit.  I kept hoping it was a dream  that would soon find me awake in my own warm, soft bed at home. Instead, at 7:30 AM I was at that same November in-gate covered in blue stuff that was supposed to make our pony sparkling white. And while I'm on the subject, why was our sweet medium white pony, Daredevil Dewey, called grey?

Don't misunderstand. I love this sport. Our ten-year-old daughter Chetie is in her fourth year of horse shows, and I am looking forward to several more years.  It's just that I have to stop and give pause occasionally to all the little things that make this sport unique.

When my husband Bob and I were first married, we committed that frequent faux pas made by many childless newlyweds. We swore that when we had children we would never let them participate in organized sports.  Ha Ha! We then proceeded to have 3 children who came into this world just to show us how off the mark we could be. (And as teenagers, the older two were experts at that).  We ended up being those Little League parents no one would sit near.  (Well, that's an exaggeration.) But we have been to a lot of gymnastics meets, hundreds of baseball games, soccer matches, and tennis tournaments. These are sports that I easily acclimated myself to.  Although I have to admit it took me quite awhile with the baseball thing to figure out all the little nuances. Such as, it's not a hit if you hit the ball but dont' make it to first base. Or if you do make it to first base because somebody dropped the ball that you hit, it's still not a hit.  At least I had my husband to fully and completely answer any bit that I could not get my head around. Tennis was easy, there were only two rules: hit the ball and keep it in the white box.  Even I can play that game. Soccer was a bit like the field hockey I played in high school.  I never really understood it then, but I know that when the ball goes into the goal net, you can cheer.  (Of course, it needs to be the right goal net.) And gymnastics didnt last long enough for it to matter whether I was knowledgeable or not. Which, in fact, I wasn't.

But enter the Hunter Jumpers.  Now that has been a challenge.  I rode some as a child, but never had my own horse or attended a horse show.  And I rode some as an adult when our first two children were small and taking lessons themselves.  I learned to walk, trot, canter, and jump some small jumps.  It was pretty straightforward.  Or so I thought.

When I rode, it was just the horse, the beautiful Iowa countryside, and myself.  When Chetie started riding, it became clear very quickly that you learned to ride so your trainer could take you to Horse Shows.  Horse Shows are serious competition.  It's the horse, the rider, and eight jumps in a course that I could not imagine anyone remembering, let alone a six or seven-year-old child.  I have since come to understand that it it's the adults who go off course more often than the kids.  As another horse show parent put it to me, "The kids don't know its hard to remember the course."

 It's being scrutinized by the judge for every step your horse takes or doesn't take. And the only team member you're allowed to bring into the competition with you is this huge animal who can locomote like a freight train, or halt on a dime instead of going over the jump. No where in the AHSA rulebook, does it state that the horse can choose to go over or not. But most horses and ponies dont seem to know this.

And there is no Horse Show equivalent of the Little League "Hey, batter, batter, batter." Or "Good eye. Don't swing at it if it doesnt have your name on it."  You simply can not stand at the in-gate yelling, "Hey rider, rider, rider" as your daughter's competitors make their way around the arena.  You also can't say "Good eye pony!  That jump didnt have your name on it!"

Chetie went to her first Horse Show when she was 6 years old.  It was a schooling show in Omaha where we leased a pony for the weekend.  She was hooked. So was I. I loved the smells, the huge panting quadrupeds, the big flaring nostrils, and the faces of the kids as they were concentrating to learn their courses.  I hated the food.   I knew I had found a sport that I could be completely at home with.  But would the sport be at home with me? People who know me probably call me "Mrs. 20 Questions" behind my back.  I don't care.  I have a driving need to understand everything.  And after four years on the road with my daughter, Im still asking, still learning.

One of my first questions was "What do you mean this beautiful nubby tweed isn't the right fabric for her jacket?"  In one of my other incarnations, I am a textile person.  I love fabric.  I love thinking outside the box a little bit when it comes to style.  Wrong sport for that! If this is the sport of kings, then the king of this sport is King Dress Like Me.

The next questions to come were more horse oriented. Such as "They're judging the horse and not the rider?" "Now they're judging the rider and not the horse?" Then, "What do you mean she chipped? Whats a chip?" And then, "Why is my eight year old in a Short Stirrup class with teenagers in tall boots and fully developed breasts?"

All of these, (except for the last question), I can proudly say I now understand.  But with every new understanding, my brain is abuzz with new inquiries.  And I'm probably a little bit slow on the learning curve. It took me forever to be able to recognize a "fancy mover". And that's because we just bought one.    I know I am bound to continue to annoy our trainer with a bevy of new questions at each horse show as I reach for that brass ring of perfect understanding.  So I am apologizing in advance. What can I say, I'm a Horse Show Mom!

Published in Practical Horseman March 2000  ©Susan S. Daniels