CODY PONY!!!

Back in the year 2000, I was a 19 year old college student. As a super-smart college sophomore (read: broke, stupid, and irresponsible college sophomore), I had a wonderful idea…. I should buy a pony! I had never owned a pony. I did own a horse when I was in high school, but I hadn't owned a pony. (For non-horse people: A pony is a short full grown animal, not a baby horse).

I picked up a Thrifty Nickel newspaper at a gas station. I read through columns of advertisements for horses that I could not afford. Then, I stumbled on an ad that read, “Horses and mules for sale.” That was the whole ad. I remember thinking, those horses will be CHEAP! I had almost no money so that is the ad I called about. I went to address the man gave me and found a muddy paddock and a barbed wire fenced grass pasture. In that field was a bright orange mustang stud colt. I bought him for $200. 

The 1st day I was able to coax him into the round pen with some hay. He was confined to within 20 feet of me in that round pen. I came in and out of the round pen throughout the day. I approached and retreated. I quit and started again, over and over. We spent 6 hours in that round pen. Day turned to evening and the shadows came out. We danced with each other. That night, I called him my Shadow Dancer. In 6 hours, I never touched my new pony.

The next day, I went to the muddy paddock again. This day I had 8 hours. By the end of that day, I could touch my new pony on his left side and his right side. 

I had never trained a horse from the beginning. I had no idea what I was doing. My horse in High School, Maverick was off the race track. While he was trained, I did need to teach Maverick to act like a gentleman. It was a good introduction, but not much real experience. 

I started slow. I am sure I made a zillion mistakes. Over the next weeks, I got Cody halter trained and gelded. Over the next months, I tacked him up and started riding him. We took walks around the neighborhood, like he was my big orange puppy. Then we took rides around the neighborhood. Step by step he became a broke pony. 

I think it took at least a year, I don’t recall; but it became time for Cody to find a new home (due to my broke-ness).  :-)  I put an ad on the internet and was contacted by a lovely French lady in California. After phone calls and videos (you had to mail VHS tapes back then), a wonderful friend and I drove Cody out to San Diego. I walked Cody into a stall at his new barn and gave him a hug. I told him, “Take care of Dakota” with tears in my eyes then I walked away. I thought that would be the last time I would ever hug my 1st pony.

Luckily, I kept track of Cody for several years. I saw pictures of my formerly-muddy-mustang all polished up. I saw him and his little girl virtually covered in blue ribbons.

Cody got awesome at jumping. Look at his super FANCY-self!

Cody and his little girl were quite the team. I heard about him at horse shows beating ponies FAR more expensive than him. I heard about him beating ponies with fancy pedigrees. I glowed with pride. I saw the placard on his stall and saw his show name was still: “Shadow Dancer.” 

Seeing Cody with his little girl melted my heart!

Years passed and I gradually lost track of Cody. Thanks to the miracle of Facebook, I re-found Cody a few years ago. He had a new family. He was loved and at a lovely barn. He was owned by a new lady, Michelle, who had bought Cody from Dakota's family. Her daughter had outgrown Cody years ago and yet, she still kept him. She loved him so much. He became her Big Red Dog. In fact, Cody had "adopted" a dog of his own! I was so happy to see Cody was so loved.

I STALKED Cody. No, seriously, I STALKED Cody! He had such a special place in my heart. I would pull up his barn page several times a week to see any picture of my orange pony. He was used in summer camps, ridden in beginner lessons, and he won more blue ribbons.

One day, Cody's owner reached out to me. She was considering selling Cody. I told her I would love to have Cody but couldn’t take him. Through my stalking, it looked like Cody got leased out. More time passed. I was happy he was staying with his owner who loved him so much.

                               (Apparently, Cody had also become a criminal, stealing lollipops out the mouths of children!)

Earlier this year, as I was confronted with Cricket’s increasingly-aggressive cancer. Around that time, Cody’s owner reached out again. It felt like it was meant to be. 

Earlier this month, I took a last minute flight to San Diego. I was so excited about my trip. I had spent years stalking this pony. I had watched his wonderful trainer and I really thought Tennyson’s 1st pony would probably be a Brook Town Pony. I had imagined calling this wonderful trainer in several years asking her to find a pony for Tennyson. I had imagined flying to San Diego with an overly excited little-kid-Tennyson to meet her 1st pony.

However, I didn't think it would be this year and I didn’t know that it would be this pony. I didn’t have a little-kid-Tennyson in the seat next to me on the flight anxiously kicking the seat in front of her. But I did have an overly excited 6-year-old inside of me. I woke up at 3am to catch my flight thinking, “Pony! PONY! Pony! PONY!!!!! Pony!!!! PONY!!!! Pony!” That is what consumed about 90% of my thoughts the whole trip to the airport and flight to San Diego! (All my horse friends know what I’m talking about. We all have that pony obsessed 6-year-old inside! She guides far too many of our decisions!)

(Cody and his super-awesome trainer. She actually grew up with and is a friend of Cody's first little girl, Dakota.)

Cody’s owner, Michelle, picked me up and took me up at the airport. This woman I had only talked to a few times drove through California traffic to pick me up and I hoped into her car. It is funny that loving the same pony can turn strangers into family! She drove me to the barn I had stalked. It was probably a little odd that I knew most of the ponies (and several of the riders) by name upon my arrival…. oh well!

(Cody looking very dignified playing the roll of Big Red Dog! Bunny ears and licking for a selfie!)

(Cody looking foxy in his old age.)

My orange pony certainly had more wisdom in his eyes. He was certainly quieter. But he was the same. I don’t know if he knew me, but I knew him. 

I climbed on my first pony for the 1st time in about a decade and a half. Things were different than in the year 2000 --- I had to use a mounting block to get on this time; I could no longer run up, jump, and toss my leg over his back and climb on like a monkey! We had both gained too much weight. We both had much less energy. We were both much less stubborn and opinionated. 

As a 34 year old, I was again walking around the arena on my first pony. It was so nice! It was a lovely manicured arena full of jumps; much different from the muddy one we started in. I asked Cody to trot. He was SO SLOW. I asked him to trot faster. He totally ignored me. I asked again. He totally ignored me. In that moment I thought, “This is SOOOOO Tennyson’s pony!” My little Wiggle Monster needs a pony who simply ignores requests for speed. Cody took no offense. His response was just to simply ignore me. I had a big loop in the reins of his rubber snaffle as he trotted lazily around the arena. There were hot thoroughbreds jumping around the ring. Cody ignored them too. 

I asked one of the awesome kid-riders to ride Cody so I could watch. Under her expert direction, he performed beautifully. Again, I thought, “This is SOOOOO Tennyson’s pony!” 

Later that day, he passed his vet check shockingly well. Cody is a mustang, which means he is a mutt. But he must have some draft horse in that mix. He has big strong bones and dinner-plate size feet. I remembered his beautiful feet from when I would ride him in the mountains to de-compress my fried brain as a college student. 

I flew home and got back into my bed about 2am. My 23 hour whirlwind trip to San Diego was complete. My heart was glowing!

Tomorrow, my 1st pony will become Tennyson’s 1st pony. Tait said Tennyson would have to wait to have a pony until she could ask for one. So, I guess I will get to call him mine for a year or so.

(Cody's nose out the window of his fancy semi-truck horse trailer on his way to Colorado).

It will be nice to ride a finished horse for the 1st time in waaaay too many years! It is possible that I laughed like a little kid doing a flying lead change when I visited San Diego this month! 

I look forward to Tennyson and Cody making their own memories.

Oh, and I had the vet check EVERY inch of him for cancer!


THE END.

___________________________________________________________

Below there are no more words, just extra Cody Pics so I can find them for Tennyson in the future:

My Take on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the 1st 7 Months of Mamahood!

I thought I would write portions of this long ago, however, I actually started SLEEPING a month ago, so now it is possible. Here are my thoughts on this last almost year and a half!

After years of talking about if we were ready, and 15 (I think) months of trying -- we found out I was pregnant in December 2013. It was a few days after Christmas. For 45-minutes after the test. I sat there saying to Tait over-and-over-and-over “I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant? I’m PREGNANT?!?!?”

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I’ve enjoyed the company of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for years. I like to think of it as my law school graduation present! CFS is a stupid “syndrome” and an equally useless diagnosis. As far as I can tell, it is Latin for “Ummm, we have no idea what is wrong with you, but we finally believe you aren’t making it all up!” So anywho, no need to get into the joys of CFS except to say that I’ve had YEARS of practice being tired and oh-so-nauseated. When we finally decided to have a baby, I thought, “Pregnancy will be a piece of cake! I’ve had years of practice!” HAHAHAHAHA!!!! Not the case.

Pregnancy was pretty unpleasant for my already haggard body. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t hardly move without needing to barf. I laid in my bed and held VERY still. I watched lots and lots of TV, thank you Netflix! I finally found out that I could drink lemon water. Not ordinary lemon water, but water with so much lemon squeezed into it that it looked like skim milk. (Just thinking of it now makes me cringe). Of course, I only liked the BIG lemons that were like $1 each (unlike regular lemons which are 3 or 5 for $1). Tait told me we spent AT LEAST $75 on lemons in my 1st trimester. Ick.

Anyway, one day I finally pestered my doctor enough to give me an IV and got hydrated. After that, I really turned the corner. I couldn’t do much, but I could roll over! And walk around the house. By my 3rd trimester Tait and I could go waddle around the lake most every night. We had to wait until it was dark because I was the most pregosaurus in the summer and I was ROASTING hot all the time.

At almost every doctor’s appointment they would ask me what I was eating. I would say “mostly saltine crackers.” They would then offer to have me speak to the nutritionist. I thought what is the point! Do you not think I know I should be eating something else!? But, hey, I grew a pretty great baby who is made up of at least 80% saltine crackers!

When it became clear that I would never get anywhere to take those professional cute/classy maternity pics, we snapped these in the yard.

Flash forward to the morning of September 2nd. I woke up at 8am having dreams about having contractions. I woke to find out… guess what… I was having contractions! We went to the hospital that evening. In the afternoon the next day (Sept 3), after some fancy scalpel work by my doc, we got to meet our baby girl wiggle monster for the 1st time. Yeah, 36 hours after the contractions started. Staying up all night THEN having an unplanned C-section was not the way I would recommend starting motherhood. I know there are women who get all-sorts of crazy about natural childbirth and think C-sections are evil or shameful. I tell you this, if we lived in a time before epidurals and C-sections, Tennyson and/or I would probably not be here today. I am SO GRATEFUL that all I have to show is a small scar that is almost invisible when viewed with all the many stretch marks that now decorate my belly! :-)

I thought the C-section was pretty great. I got through the recovery without ever needing to take a single narcotic. Although, I did browbeat them into letting me have good IV anti-inflammatories that my labor and delivery nurse baby-sister recommended!

I will save you from one of those gory birth stories and leave you with this: If my giant-headed-self and my giant-headed-husband ever decide to give our giant-headed-baby a sibling here is how it will go: Sleep 10 hours. Wake up. Take shower. Go to hospital for SCHEDULED C-section. Hold baby within the hour. Ahhh, sounds like a dream!

I’ve heard people say, that you will never be “ready” to have a baby so don’t try to wait until you are. I tell you, I think the exact opposite! Tait and I were ready. We had a 9 year old marriage and are still VERY MUCH in love. We had a track record of dealing with BIG projects VERY WELL together. We had built a business together. We had learned how we work together. We effectively switch between who is “in charge” of each area of our lives and business. We can switch seamlessly from Tait is in charge of this to Brittney is in charge of that. We were ready. After we were ready to have a baby, it took 15+ months to get pregnant, and looking back, I am actually glad that it took so long. On the long days (and nights) I am grateful that I can look at Tennyson through my bloodshot (literally) eyes and say, “We waited for YOU.”

In the hospital

My dad and Lori came out for Tennyson’s 1st 2 weeks home. I don’t remember those weeks. In our 4 days at the hospital, I think I got about 6 hours of sleep TOTAL. Add to that the extreme sleep deprivation of the 1st weeks and it is all a blur.

I had someone snap these on our 1-week-aversary of being parents. Just keepin' it real. Aren't we purty?

My dad with Brooks (my brother's kiddo) and Tennyson on his shoulders. Tait is helping Tennyson stay on.

I like to think that I took to motherhood with all the grace of a hippo on ice skates! (Isn’t that a great saying, I stole it from Biggest Loser). And that I took to motherhood like a CAT takes to water. Wait, you say, the phrase is “like a FISH to water.” Well, yes, that is what most people say. However, I did not take to it like a fish to water. I use CAT on purpose. I would assume that if a cat took every class offered on swimming and worked really hard it could learn to be a good swimmer. That is how I feel.

My Grandma, Tennyson's Great Grandma. They have the same birthday!

Barf on all those (well meaning) people who say lame things like, “It will be totally natural,” or “Your instincts will just kick in,” or “It's easy; you will do great!” Motherhood does NOT come naturally to me. I never babysat. I never said, “Oh it’s a baby!” My relationship with my own mother was, (shall we say) “Strained?” Yeah, strained… that is the nice way to say it.   

I took every class offered at the hospital. I read most of KellyMom about breastfeeding. I struggled. I tried. I failed. I tried something else and failed again (wash, rinse, repeat). It is ok; I am good at failure. After failure comes the figuring-out. After failure comes the learning. After failure comes success. In my mind, failure is the best teacher. I am a student of motherhood. A student with minimal natural talent; but a HUGE drive to learn.

They say "Failure is always an option" on that Discovery Channel science show, Mythbusters. Yes, I did watch a TON of TV while I was pregosaurus! It is our family motto. You can always fail, it is just a fact of life. Failing is totally fine and natural. Learn and get back up. I know some of you just had horror jolt through your veins at the thought of failure. :-)

The BEST part of all my failure is that Tennyson didn’t know (nor need to know) that I was failing at the little things. She doesn't know that the 1st 6 months of her life we struggled with how to feed her. She didn’t know that I couldn’t breastfeed normally. She didn’t know that I had to pump twice as long as everyone else with the hospital-grade pump. Which meant I pretty much barely slept. She didn’t know how much ridiculous money we spent on donor breast milk. She didn’t understand the curse words I screamed or cried in pain at that *=%&*^% pump! She didn’t know I couldn’t eat dairy, vegetables, or anything spicier than ketchup because of her sensitive tummy. She didn’t know embarrassed I was to beg frozen milk off a friend who also had a dairy-free baby. She didn’t know her sensitive tummy and that *=%&*^% pump ruled her parents lives like tyrants for 6 months. She didn’t know that her mom could only sleep a few hours between pumping to try (and still fail) to make enough milk for her. All she knew is that she spent the days held, responded to, happy and well fed.

When we FINALLY found a formula that her SENSITIVE tummy could tolerate she switched seamlessly. The $11 a day price tag of that fancy-hypoallergenic-magic-formula seems a SMALL price to pay at this point. I am convinced it is so expensive because it is made by angels and imported straight from Heaven! It has saved my sanity! Tomorrow will be my 4 week-aversary of quitting pumping. Ah, so grateful!

As miserable and pumping day and night was, I am so grateful that there was a way to feed my baby without causing her pain. The pain she experienced trying formulas was almost too much for me to handle!

After almost 7 months, I feel like I am coming into my own as a mother. I can make my little girl laugh. I can sleep enough that I don’t slur my words! I can eat salads. I can take my baby on walks and to the barn (which she loves). I can lay on the floor and help her learn to crawl. I can laugh with her as she pulls my hair out (she LOVES pulling hair).

Motherhood is still not natural to me, and it might never be but I am ok with that. I am trying to find the talents that I have and craft them into motherly-stuff. I am no longer scared that I will be a bad mom. In fact, I think I am a pretty stinking great mom! In my mind, you don’t have to be talented to be good at something. You have to WORK and TRY. And get back up when you fail, over and over. I don’t know about you guys, but if I only did the things that came easily to me life would be pretty empty!

I have fallen deeper in love with my husband than I ever thought possible. I have had so many people tell me things like, “You will love your baby more than your husband.” I am glad that isn’t true for me. If I loved Tait less than the baby, there is no way we could have gotten through these 6 months where I basically couldn’t sleep because of stupid-pumping. There is no way I could have given him the benefit of the doubt when I needed to. There is no way I could have made it through without him. I am also grateful for a husband who loves me enough to put up with me when I am so tired I can’t think. Who takes the baby and sends me to bed so I can sleep when I am as logical as a toddler. He is much more of a partner in this than I could have ever expected (and I expected him to be awesome).

I am glad that Tennyson is a HAPPY baby. We are in love with her! I've heard there are people who have more than 1 kid, are they super-heros?

Baby's First Trip to the ER

I wanted to write to Tennyson about her 1st trip to the ER. Please feel free to read it, but pretend that the grammar isn’t so wretched. I didn’t want to proof read it more than once. I am a tired mommy!

Enjoy the BIZARRE tale of Tennyson's 1st trip to the ER!

Baby Tennyson,

When we 1st found out we were pregnant, we wondered if we would have a boy or a girl. We both thought we were neutral. However, after your ultrasound, I asked your dad what he was thinking. He said, “I thought I was neutral, but when the tech said it was a girl I was so relieved. I was such a crazy child.” Well, as soon as you were big enough for me to feel you moving in my belly I knew you were going to be wiggly like your dad. You pushed. You kicked. You stretched and rolled. For months, you kept me up every single night from midnight to 2am for “baby karate class.”

If I had thought about it, I would have imagined a few trips to the ER in your childhood. I would have imagined you being a toddler climbing a tree or something insane. I did NOT think your 1st trip to the ER would be at 4 months old. I would not have EVER imagined it would have been something so preposterous.

For the last couple days, you were oddly fussy. Considering that you are the happiest baby in history, this was strange. We couldn’t figure it out. You have a VERY sensitive tummy, we blamed that 1^st. Was there a change in my diet? Were you having a problem with the hypoallergenic formula we use to supplement? Is the ratio of breast milk to formula a problem? We couldn’t figure it out.

Then we jumped to another blame category. We had just changed diaper brands, was that it? Did you have the tiniest (un-seeable) diaper rash? Was it something else?

I then thought you might be gassy so I took your bare feet in my hands (note: BARE feet as it factors in later in this story). I made your legs bicycle, jump, kick, and run while you laughed. It didn’t help. You stayed oddly fussy. I got you down for a nap. When you woke up, we started over. As I was changing your diaper, I noticed that you had some toe-jam. I stuck my face about 6” from your foot to get the toe jam. Then… I saw it!!!

Rachael was over at our house, I called her over and said, “I know what has been wrong with Tennyson!” There was one of my hairs looped around your middle toe. It wasn’t pulled super tight, but it was tight enough that the tip of your toe was a little red and swollen. No wonder I couldn’t figure it out! I felt relief for finding the problem, and then I was worried about your toe. I wanted the stupid hair OFF your toe. So… I… pulled.

IMMEDIATELY, I knew I had made a mistake. The hair broke. The loose ends were gone. I had pulled it tight. The tip of your toe turned redder. It started swelling. I panicked. Gratefully, Rachael was here. Thanks to her giant family and 9,876 hours of experience as a nanny, she kept her head better than I did. We got ice. I took the tiny tip of a nail file and tried to get under the hair. I made you bleed. I didn’t get the hair. Your toe got more swollen. I called your dad who was at a rental house cutting down a tree and told him to come home.

When your dad got home, he tried to get under the hair with a dental pick he uses for pottery. We think he got 1 of the layers of the hair. You got a little less swollen. You screamed. You bled.

I had a thought, “Am I REALLY about to take my baby to the ER for a HAIR?” So, I got on the phone, I called M & MK two friends who are retired Children’s Hospital nurses. With a combined 3 zillion hours of baby care between them they told me to go in. We went.

We got right into the ER. The nurse poked at your poor toe. He got a light. He got a magnifier. He failed. You screamed.

The nurse got the P.A. The P.A. got another light. He got another magnifier. He failed. You screamed.

The P.A. got the E.R. doctor. The way this doctor walked in, I knew he was an expert. There are just some people who you can see their confidence. He was grey haired, handsome, and self-assured. I felt VERY happy he was here. He had your dad hold you a different way. He got a different light. He got a different magnifier. He cut it!

By this time the hair was so tight that it was actually cutting IN to your skin. Just because the hair was cut, it wasn’t done. Your poor toe still had the hair imbedded into it. The ER doctor met me outside the room as I had stepped out (I couldn’t handle your screaming like that). He told me they were going to have to look for a “chemical solution” to this problem to dissolve the hair. People were talking about what in the world was happening at the nurse’s station. A resident came in and asked to see your fascinating toe. You were the talk of the ER. By this time, I no longer felt silly for bringing you to the ER for a hair. 

After contacting Children’s Hospital they found out the treatment was Nair! Your situation is called a “Hair Tunicate” while it is uncommon it is not unheard of. Children’s Hospital keeps Nair in stock for such occasions. Somebody from the ER was sent over to Children’s to get the Nair. They put the Nair on and rinsed it a little later. We waited for a bit and went home.

Crisis is interesting. By the time you can understand this story, you will know that your parents think failure is the best teacher, but crisis is an interesting classroom too. In this crisis I relearned some stuff I already knew and learned some new things.

Stuff I learned or relearned:

• #1: I WISH YOU COULD TALK! I wish you could have told me 2 days ago, “Hey mom, there is a hair itching my toe. Please pull it out before it wraps around my toe 900 times.”

• Your dad is GREAT in a crisis.

• I do not like things I can’t understand. While blood and guts generally don’t bug me (I wanted to watch you come out in the C-section but your dad couldn’t handle that). However, this toe thing freaked me out! If you had needed stitches, I think I could have held you through that with no problem. But this was worse. It was complicated. Everything seemed to make it worse. It was tough on me.

• People can take 1 second and be reassuring and really change a situation. While you were screaming, I took a walk to the nurse’s station. This one sweet nurse asked me if I needed anything. Then told me that it wasn’t my fault. I knew that but it was sooooo nice to hear it from someone else. The nurse and PA were so nice and kept telling me they were impressed that I even saw the hair and not to beat myself up for pulling it or not seeing it sooner.

• In the same vein, it is nice when people aren't judgmental. At the ER, I was suffering from a severe case of new-mom-homelessness (and greasiness) and your dad had LITERALLY just come from cutting down a tree. Everyone treated us with respect and professionalism. It would have been EASY to think, who gave these people a BABY to look after? It was another good reminder to me to not judge.  

• When you scream it DOES sound crazy. On one of my trips to the nurse’s station, I heard someone ask, “What is that noise?” I said, “That’s my daughter.” It was a horrid noise “Rgahh, Rgahhh, Rgahh!” Thankfully, we’ve only heard that cry 1 other time. I hope to never hear it again!

• You are a TOUGH and freakishly HAPPY tiny person! In between the times when you were pinned down with someone trying to cut your hair tunicate you weren’t crying. Even though the stupid hair was literally cutting into your flesh. And you LOVED that nurse. I couldn’t get you to smile, but you LOVED him. You smiled and chatted with him, it was adorable. Moreover, I was incredibly grateful to see you respond positively to a stranger after that whole ordeal!

• Apparently, you ARE as cute as we think you are. We overheard the nurse, PA and others talking about how you were so cute. It is pretty cute to hear men talking about how you look like a “perfect cabbage patch doll.”

• We WILL be putting Nair in the 1st aid kit in the 1 in a million chance this strange thing happens again. 

• I am successfully brain washing your dad. He ALMOST said your full name was, Tennyson Elise Wiggle Monster!

You will have many first experiences in your life. 1st ER Visit: Friday evening January 16, 2015.

We love you, please don’t need to go to the ER again.


6pm: 1st got to ER. Less swollen than at home but hair has cut in in the toe.

6:45pm 

7:05pm

The next morning. Why does it still look so sad?