Sometimes, barn chores suck.
There is nothing fun about hauling individual water buckets down a frozen lane to fill a 100 gallon water trough because your water spigot froze (like it did last winter). There is nothing fun about going out to the barn with a headache, or head cold, or stomach flu. (I’ve done all three.) And there is nothing fun about forgoing potential plans with friends, or trips, or vacations, because you have to take care of the ranch.
Occasionally, taking care of the critters is the last thing I want to do.
Here’s the trick though: sometimes, when hauling my butt to the barn to do what needs to be done, and I’m grumpy and irritated, I let my inner 8-year-old give me a pep talk.
Everyone has that kid who they used to be buried inside somewhere. Mine just happens to be a horse obsessed little girl in pigtails.
From whatever age I was first self-aware, I was obsessed with horses and ponies, but when I was 8, I started actually riding horses. I wore pale pink cowboy boots with fringe and glitter; I’m pretty sure they were never intended to see the inside of a barn. My pint-sized helmet made my head look huge, and my parents had to buy me a ring to wear on one of my fingers because I was still really bad at telling my left from my right.
I still have memories of that first ride, the first time I ever settled into a saddle…and walked around in a circle. I mean, if we’re being honest, there was nothing at all exciting about those first few rides. The horses played follow the leader, and I sat there, thinking I was riding but in reality I was only sitting. Still, I was thrilled!
As a kid, riding lessons were absolutely the highlight of my week. I adored all of the horses I rode, even the more difficult ones, and I wanted a horse of my own more than anything else on the planet.
So, on the days when barn chores suck and my head hurts and I want to scream for things not going well, I try to channel that eight-year-old who would have given up every last material possession she had to have her own horse.
A few weeks ago, when one of my horses had an absolute hissy fit during our lesson and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to scream or maybe cry (it hadn’t been a great week before the lesson either):
Me: “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. One easy horse. I just want one easy horse.”
8 year old self: “You have a horse!”
Me: “Yup. I have a horse…one who is acting like a complete turd.”
8 year old self: “But you have a horse.”
Me: (With a notable sigh and shrug…) “Actually, I have five…”
8 year old self: *Jaw drops to floor.*
Me: “…and llamas.”
8 year old self: “You should never, ever be sad.” (Life is simpler when you’re eight.)
Nothing is ever all good or all bad. Most of the time, by a landslide, the farm and my critters are good. Sometimes, they aren’t, but when they’re not, it helps to remember that they are literally my childhood dream come true.
And that I, and my inner eight year old, love them to absolute pieces.
12 thoughts on “Letting your inner 8 year old give you a pep talk”
From the mouths of babes, Cherity. What a lovely reminder to be grateful, always grateful. Hoping Amelia is doing splendidly?
She is. She has a check up next Monday, and several days of antibiotics to go, but you would think that nothing at all happened.
Yay! So glad to hear it. I had my bad boy Max in a grip this morning trying to dig a burr out of the back of his throat that was choking him. It’s always something!!
I still have to deliver on that promise to get a horse that I made to myself at about that age. Maybe next spring.
You should. Just make sure to have a knowledgeable horse person with you to do the choosing. Nothing can ruin a first horse experience like choosing the wrong one!
I got thrown from a horse when I was five years-old. I never cared to ride one again until a friend talked me into it when I was in my 30’s. It wasn’t pleasurable… it felt odd and uncomfortable. Then in my late 40’s a niece put three of her horses on our land because they didn’t have ample land for grazing where they lived – an hour from here. I enjoyed the horses from across the fence. I fed and watered them. I enjoyed their presence. I respected their strength and power. And mostly, I loved to watch them run just before a storm. It took my breath away actually. I found a way to appreciate them… and I was grateful for a relationship with them in a way that was comfortable and enjoyable for me. 🙂
I sort of understand why so many cultures linked horses directly to the gods. They are so powerful, and yet they are willing to work to the ends of the earth for us, befriend us, and join us in our journeys. Yesterday, my old man chose to stay with me while I filled his water trough, even though his herd had wandered away. I was actually a little in awe because it indicated that he considers me safe and part of the herd as well. 🙂 Little moments
I can relate. The animals don’t care nor can wait for you when you have the flu.
Absolutely. Mostly, I have help I can call on in those situations, but sometimes I’m out in a barn with a pounding migraine trying not to fall over (or cry). It’s just a reality of farm life.
In my opinion, it’s always good to be grateful. The positives usually outweigh the negatives. 🙂 Great post!
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