I’ve been a jogger for years, a horse show mom for just a few. On many a long run, I’ve hit what’s known as “the wall.” It’s not the same thing that you might encounter in the horse show world.

In the horse show world, “the wall” is real. I’ve certainly hit that wall too. Mostly, I hit it solo, at a horse show, after burying my OTTB to the base of jump that I ended up going over sans mare. Of course that left some bruises, but I would quickly get back on before my trainer could make it into the ring to whisper-yell at me. I was always much more afraid of her that I was of smashing, face first, through a picket fence.

The runner’s “wall” is different. It’s when you lovingly look at the asphalt and think what a really comfortable place it would be to lie down, just for a few minutes. It’s when your legs feel like Redwood tree trunks. It’s when that vanilla goo you just ate decides it would really like to come back up, thank-you-very-much. Let’s just say, it’s not my happy place.

But I digress…

Hitting the horse show mom wall is much more painful. You don’t see it coming, and it’s a wallop. I hit it on Sunday afternoon after spending a day and a half like this. Please forgive this stream of consciousness retelling. It’s not that I fancy myself a Faulkner wanna-be, it’s just really the only way to recount the 36 hours.

Wake up a 6 a.m. and quickly take a shower before going to the boy’s hockey game one-hour-away with visiting parents in tow. But wait, first I have to drop the girl off at the barn, even though its only 5 degrees, she REALLY doesn’t want to go to her brother’s hockey game. OK, now we’re all smushed in the truck on the way to hockey. Freeze butt off in ice-rink. Yay, the snack bar is open and the coffee is ready. Bless you hockey moms who work in the snack bar. Yay, Warriors win again. Rush home. Girl already home. Eat lunch. Put on very attractive one-piece-suit that husband used to wear when he worked at airport de-icing jets. Go to the barn to do chores. Girl doesn’t accompany me because she’s going to spend the afternoon in a lakefront hotel room, pretty-fying herself for tonight’s Vermont Hunter Jumper Association (VHJA) banquet. Husband and parents depart to take boy to hockey game No. 2, which is (blessedly) close to home but in a much colder rink. Parents vow not to return to visit until children participate in warmer activities.

Boy, it’s really rather cold in the barn today. Do chores. Bring in horses. FALL on the ice SO HARD that my head BOUNCES off the ice a few times. MY TEETH REALLY, REALLY HURT. Don’t get up. Lie there for a few minutes, thinking that this ice wouldn’t really be that bad of a place to take a nap. Not kidding. Toto, a 5-year-old palomino Quarter Horse, who I was bringing in at the time, thankfully doesn’t step on my head. She puts her nose down to me to check for a pulse. (Her mom’s a nurse and must have taught her how to do that. Toto can also recycle.) Kind mare gives me a minute to collect my thoughts—she’s mistaken to think that I have any.

Finish chores. Go home and quickly try to pretty-fy self in 30 minutes. Mission unsuccessful. Boy and husband come home from hockey and get ready for banquet. Strategic error: bring boy to banquet rather than leave him home with visiting parents. Arrive at banquet. Attempt to find daughter. STOP. Look at how adorable all of the barn girls look dressed up in their black and white (our barn colors) dresses. Oh, how precious.

Watch AMAZING video creating by horse show dad extraordinaire Mike Drescher. See pictures of GREEN GRASS. See hee-lar-i-ous photo of the boy from the horseless horse show. See tear-jerker video of the girl winning the short stirrup medal class at the VHJA finals. See very funny baby picture of the girl’s trainer.

Look around the room and see the results of what must have been months of hard work by dedicated crew of horse show moms and dads to pull off this amazing event!

Eat yummy buffet dinner. Snag last piece of chocolate cake, which goes well with red wine. Form complete sentences to converse with other adults. Watch kids at the kids table who are still looking precious. Sigh.

Awards handed out. Boy wants to leave. Husband falling asleep. Hockey game tomorrow morning an-hour-away in New York. Walls closing in. Want to stay and dance but-they-will-never-get-through-all-of-these-awards. Watch girl receive seventh place ribbon for short stirrup. Try to take picture. Boy complains. Boy complains. Boy complains. Husband complains. Boy wants to go home. Ask other horse show mom to please bring my daughter home so she can stay and dance.

Go home with two tired boys. Wait up for girl. Realize my neck really, really hurts and try to figure out why. Oh yes, that little bounce of head off the ice patch. Take ibuprofen. Wait for girl. Wait for girl. Wait for girl. Girl comes home. Girl is happy and tired and beautiful. Girl goes to bed. Mom crawls to bed. Mom says prayers of gratitude.

Mom opts out of New York hockey game. Mom makes breakfast for departing parents. Girl wants to go to the barn. Girl wants to go to the barn. Papa takes girl to the barn. Parents depart. Mom is home alone. Mom is stupid. Mom vacuums and starts laundry and gets something ready for dinner and takes the dog for a walk.  

Boy and husband come home. Mom regains partial sanity, takes large does of ibuprofen and heads to bed with last Sookie book. Moms falls asleep. Mom wakes up and realizes she has hit the wall. The mom wall. It’s much worse than the runner’s wall. Girl calls from the barn. Mom gets up and goes to the barn to pick up girl.

Monday morning. Mom wakes up and smiles. Today she gets to go to work and……sit.