Thursday, July 8, 2010
As the morning sun shone down, we joined Grama G, Auntie N and cousin D for an outing at Spruce Meadows. A day of watching international horse jumping.
Bup found it a little boring. Running back and forth along the bleachers was pretty cool until Auntie stopped his fun. Then he was little bit content to sit beside his big boy cousin and watch the horses. W loved it. He sat and gave us a running commentary as each horse completed the circuit.
Don't let the idyllic description fool you. This is the RWB you are reading about, after all.
I wonder if there's a dress code at Spruce Meadows? Some people were dressed in fancy casual with big hats which was s-m-a-r-t as it was HOT and there is little shade in the bleachers. There were a lot of white jodhpurs about which I commented to my sister that it is not a sport for those with cellulite due to the required attire. How about underwear? Anyone sporting their long line tighty boxers for the event? Oh wait! That was my son.
Yup. We had been there for less than 30 minutes when there was an all-out blow out and one little boy was scrubbed down in the public washroom, while his mother wondered what to do as she was not prepared with a change of clothes. Aha moment! W could go commando in his shorts and R could just wear underwear. And that is just what we did. I-yi-yi! Trust me....
Okay, so we've covered attire. What about etiquette?
Is there a noise limit for patrons? Whispered words? Normal talking? Yelling? Laughing? We laughed a very little. Oh, but there was yelling.
The first real yelling for all the horsey world to hear, was me. Not the kiddos. ME.
Yelling at an older lady. White haired with a big fancy hat.
If you were also there today, you would have witnessed me standing and pointing at this woman, with a crying W hugging my leg, yelling something like, "This is NOT your child. You don't need to say anything!"
Then marching away with W holding my hand and still sobbing.
W was running to catch up with his Grama and Auntie when he fell going up the stairs three times. The third time made him cry and that's when the grouchy grama decided to yell at my son. Telling him to slow down that he was acting like a jumpy horse.
Needless to say I was not pleased. And later not pleased with myself for making a scene.
Afterwards W and I went to a quiet spot to attend to his wounds and heart. Two other moms with strollers and little ones stopped to ask if W was okay. So kind! I admitted that I probably shouldn't have yelled at the lady but I don't like when people judge my kids....and they GOT IT. They agreed. Ahhh....it made my hurt little, abashed heart pitter patter.
Thank you to the mom's who checked in to see if W was okay. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
It takes a village to raise a mom, and those ladies helped me today.