… horses
Why did it feel SO WRONG to take my kid to the track?
Hm… the betting? the beer? the scores of unemployed looking to ‘hit it big’ on #7?
For anyone who loves to see these animals in motion, though, it’s just beautiful. She loved it.
(still trying to explain how you can ‘win’ even if your horse comes in 2nd…)
MRA skipped out of work yesterday afternoon to play golf with a good friend who is a member at St. Louis Country Club. I didn’t think twice about it until he called while I was en route to pick up Kate from camp.
“They’re playing polo this afternoon, if you and Kate want to come by and watch,” he whispers. (cell phones – big no no at The Club.)
I had forgotten that little gem. The most exclusive country club in STL has a polo field. And it’s just down the street from Kate’s camp. Polo. Horses. Heaven.
Our friend’s wife called and said that she and her son were going to meet us there and wait with us for the guys to finish golfing. Perfect.
We meet up and grab a seat in the Adirondack chairs lining the hill over looking the field. Behind us is the clubhouse. In front, the polo field. Along comes a woman – a member and friend of our friend. We gals settle in, enjoy the cocktails the wait staff bring and soak it up. The kids are running around within view and out of range of the polo balls. We talk about school, baby sitters, life and the challenge the other woman faces by her kids not being able to cut through a yard to get to the clubhouse. The live on the grounds. Of The Country Club. The one you can’t even BUY your way into. (You get the picture.)
More cocktails, the evening lengthens, and a husband shows up. Both of ours are still golfing. Polo is wrapping up and more kids have joined in the fun down by the water stand next to the field.
In the middle of one of my (surely inane) stories, I spy the kids. (Just checking to make sure I haven’t lost my offspring in this orgy of wealth and privilege.)
Oh.
My.
Nooo.
Without thinking, I wonder out loud, “Why does Kate HAVE HER PANTIES DOWN?”
Everyone turns to look as she’s yanking them back up. Granted the kids are down a little hill and about 100 yards away – really – so I can’t really be sure what just happened. But, I have a sinking suspicion… They carry on with whatever game they had made up and wander back up the hill.
“Kate, come here.”
Dutifully (for once) she comes over.
“WHY did you have your PANTIES DOWN?”
“I, well, I had to go (pee) and couldn’t make it.” The look of innocence is at once laughable and endearing.
I hold her arms and stare her down, “We don’t ever. Ever. EVER. EEVVVEEERR do that.” (But we do… At the park by the beach when the porta potties are way past gross. And at the river when it’s too far to trek back to our cabin. And on hikes when we’re deep in the woods.)
Nature called and she clearly didn’t see the difference.
My guess is that those in the dining overlooking the polo field COULD see the difference. And, in fact, saw much more.
Saturday was one of those Chock Full ‘o Fun days.
* A friend was bringing his 4 year old son, Phoenix, by to spend the better part of the day with us while he (friend) attended a conference in town.
* At 10 am, Kate had her first ballet class.
* At noon, we were off to a birthday party for one of Kate’s friends at school.
* At 6, April (sitter extraordinaire) was arriving to hang with Kate while MRA and I went to a post-golf tourney dinner party.
Phoenix couldn’t have been easier to accommodate. Sweet kid and no trouble. Kate, on the other hand…
Ballet class was a disaster. I made the mistake of hanging out in the room. I know… I know… Mistake. Then she didn’t want to participate, so I joined in with her. (likely mistake #2) Then she opted out again, but I stuck with it – damnit, I was going to show her what a fun time we were all having. She wanted to sit with Phoenix while he played on my iPhone (mistake #3 for me to hand it to him in full view). Made her sit apart. Protest. A “talk” in the hallway. Tears in the room. Enough! We left with 10 minutes left in the class and steam shooting out of my ears.
What do you do? I was disappointed with my normally game-for-anything kid who WANTED to take ballet lessons. I was angry with myself for not being able to right the situation. And, I was stumped. Why didn’t I know what to do? Should I have pushed her harder and MAKE her participate or pull her earlier before we upset the class too much?
BLAGH!
I fumed for another 30 minutes until it was time to leave for the party. Now here is where I fell in love with the kid all over again. I mentioned to her that Phoenix won’t know anyone, so it will be up to her to introduce him to her friends.
By god, she did.
She went up to each of her friends at the party and said, “Grant, this is my special guest, Phoenix.” To others, “Ava, have you met my special guest, Phoenix?”
I shit you not, she drug him around and made sure everyone met her Special Guest.
Screw ballet. I couldn’t have been more proud of her.
We tripped out to the booming metropolis of Smithton over the weekend with a three-fold agenda:
* Visit my good friend Cheryl
* Play date for Kate and Cheryl’s kids
* Play date for Paddi and Cheryl’s dogs
Ever the good hostess, Cheryl had the yard set up with a pool for the kids, a pool for the dogs and chairs in the shade for us. The only thing missing? Cold beer. But I guess it was 10 am… (when did we get to be such fuddies?)
They played hard and a good time was had by all.
The drive home:
(how can kids sleep like that?)
Summer in STL is hot. Oppressive even. Cure? Hang at a pool until they kick you out.
Kate and I spent a good 3+ hours at the pool yesterday and it was clear by the time we packed up that she’d be napping nicely within the hour. MRA, just having wrapped up a golf tourney, was in the same state: hot, tired, and looking forward to quality nap time. Me? I saw this as the perfect opportunity to leave them to their nap and cruise through an art fair nearby, quickly, sans kid or husband. Perfect.
An hour later, I returned home to find everything dark and quiet downstairs and the door to the bedroom upstairs still shut. Perfect.
I tiptoed into our room and found MRA asleep on the bed. Alone.
Where’s Kate? Where’s Paddi? Clearly someone snuck her way out of the group nap I had planned.
Seeing the door to the master bath/closet shut, it became clear. (Kate’s a big fan of shutting the dog in there with her – thereby achieving the dog’s relatively undivided attention.) I went to open the door and then realized it needed a shove. Something was blocking the way. Shoving further I found:
* a towel on the floor behind the door;
* 9+ other towels scattered about (you know how you have the towels that you use and the towels you keep folded nicely for show? Hm… couldn’t tell which was which as ALL were now strewn about the room);
* Kate naked in the bathtub;
* Paddi scrambling out of the tub with a clear look of desperation;
* the noxious odor of spray-on sunscreen used in a confined space; and
* bath toys and about a pint of water in the tub.
WTF?!?
“Kate, what in the WORLD are you doing?”
“I’m giving Paddi a bath.”
“Why are you giving Paddi a bath?”
“Because I needed to wash the sunscreen off of her.”
“Why does Paddi have sunscreen on her?”
“Because I sprayed it on her. A lot. I used a lot of sunscreen on her.”
The group nap devolved into a group shower in the other bathroom. In the midst of that barrel of fun (’cause let me tell you, nothing beats two people and a squirmy 90 lb Lab in a space the size of a phone booth), MRA poked his head in the door and asked what was going on.
“What’s going on?” I replied. “You’re fired.”
Kate’s school has an interesting tradition to mark the graduation of kids from the school – in the 6th grade.
At the start of the school year, each child in the Pre-Kindergarten class is matched up with one or two “Big Friends” in the sixth grade. Throughout the year, the Big Friends will come visit the Pre-K’ers for story time, crafts, or just to play on the playground. It seems to work for both age groups.
For graduation, the Pre-K kids then escort their Big Friends around the school for a victory lap of sorts.
Everyone else watches. And throws Froot Loops. (I did say it was “interesting.”)
While I had been tempted to skip this little parade, not knowing what it really was and what, if any, role Kate would play, a co-worker cautioned me to NEVER MISS THESE EVENTS. They only come around once… Especially with an only child.
Am I glad I stuck around.
Kate was delighted with the pomp and circumstance. And the cereal.
Her Big Friends took such sweet interest in her.
Teary eyes for this? Really? (wow, I’m such a SAP!)