We Ride Again-Part IV

I hope you’re enjoying our western fun and Rodeo mayhem.  This madness ends tomorrow, so hang on to your hats!  If you’re new, you can read about what started this cowboy party here.  Part two is here. And three.  Don’t forget to leave a comment to winthis.   


As you may remember, we recently got in touch with our rodeo roots.  It had been years since we’d actually gone to the Rodeo. We decided to tempt fate.  Again.  Since we are THAT family, we don’t do this often because you know, anything can happen.  I mean, we tempt fate all the time, but not on purpose.  Most of our disasters are unplanned.  


But this, this we planned.  


The hubby took a day off.  Wednesday, during Spring Break. It was designed to be a break for me on hump-day.  I needed it, considering the break from school, and all, and unattended children wandering around the home.


The Texas Livestock Show is awesome.  It would take days to see it all.  So we focused on two things, since we were toting a one year old with us.  She could go berzerko at any given moment.  And see?  We knew this. It’s called insight.


First, we visited Tommy G. Productions Mutton Bustin’.  What the heck is that, you ask?  Excellent question.  I didn’t even know a sheep was called a mutton.  Really.  I’d heard of a ewe.  But, mutton?  Nope.  See?  I earned my college reputation for being slow, honestly. (My husband advised I not put that in here, but I’m all about revealing my stupidity in order to make you feel better about your intelligence.  I’m nice that way.)


I  did remember a Seinfeld episode where Jerry refuses to eat mutton and spits it into his Nana’s napkin.  So, at least I knew it was meat and not a rare disease of the spleen  . . .  or something.  But leaning on old Seinfeld episodes to help in daily life can really limit you.


Well, my son fit the criteria to participate in the Mutton Bustin’.  He was under six years of age and under 60 pounds.  My husband helped him ‘geer up.’ He was going to ride a sheep, like a cowboy rides a bull.  Only he’s a child.  And it’s a sheep. ‘Geering up’ is the process in which you try to protect your five year old’s VITAL organs in case he is thrown by a rabid sheep.  I’m pretty sure this was in the release form I signed. 



This is my offspring HANGING ON FOR DEAR LIFE, while riding said sheep.


I must admit this is something I NEVER thought one of my children would do, you know, ride a smelly, hairy, SHEEP in public, for nothing other than the honor of doing so.  Of course, I screamed and hollered like a mad woman and I mean, what mother wouldn’t be proud of this.


 


Or this:


 

This was right before his precious body was bucked off the wild animal and landed in a heap of lamb poo.  


It was a fine moment.


This is just one of hundreds of fun things to do at the Rodeo.  Most of them are just as important and life altering.  My son did smell unique the rest of the day.


After checking for open wounds and lacerations, we moseyed over to the Kids Agricultural Exhibition, our second destination of the day.  


Okay.  This was the highlight of my day.  I mean, other than watching my only son put his life in danger.  


Chicks.  Who knew a display of eggs and chicks could make me feel so maternal.


There was this incredible display of eggs and chickens in the various stages of life: egg, egg cracking, half egg, half chick, wet newborn chick with eyes closed, tiny chick hopping around.  It was fascinating, watching the little fellows struggle to crack open their eggs.  Did you know it takes them 16 hours to do so?  


I’m educating my kids with all my chicken knowledge.  We stood there for eons. You know, because I’m so full of knowledge.


My kids and hubby walked away s-l-o-w-l-y from me when I started talking to the chicks, as any mother would do. 

Apparently, I was sorta loud.  But I think it meant a lot, to the chicks.


They found this, waaaaayyy more interesting:


 


I guess tractors are sexy, in a John Deer, sort of way.


e="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: 19px; opacity: 1; font-size:14px;">Exposing my children to the live birth of a calf was even more than I could handle, so we walked past Mommy Row quickly.  I don’t have pictures because well, it’s humiliating enough for the cows to be giving birth AT the rodeo IN front of hundreds of people.  It was the least I could do to turn off the flash.  My contribution to the farming community.


Our toddler had fun petting her first calf.  


 

This was the Borden’s milk exhibit.  I think she liked the strawberry samples of Borden’s milk even better than the animals.  Any why wouldn’t she?  It’s my favorite too, next tosweet tea.


 


A kiddie highlight was strolling down aisle after aisle of various farm animals that junior high and high school kids were grooming to show.  Dodging the poo in the aisle proved to be quite the challenge too. After my husband explained all the work involved and that these kids were skipping school to do it, my kids were ready to move to the country and sign up.  Because cleaning up the dung of heifers, is way better than math.  Any day.


 


As we were leaving (while the kids were still having fun-key to smart parenting), we walked past this HUGE Texas longhorn and couldn’t pass up the chance of putting our children’s lives in harm’s way, one more time.


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When grandma saw this picture she said, “Well, that’s not a real cow is it?”  


Like we’d pay $7 to put our kids on a fake cow. Of course it’s real, see the foam dripping from it’s mouth?  Nothing like paying to sit on a thirsty Texas Longhorn, for fun.


I love the Rodeo.


And of course, this is what my kids looked like on the way home from the Rodeo.  They smelled similar too.


 


It was an amazing day, free of temper tantrums, complaining and sibling rivalry. I am so THANKFUL for the little things.


Maybe we should simplify and move to the country, after all. 


Since every rendezvous needs a surprise, I am giving away the newest Rascal Flatts CD, Still Feels Good, today!  You just need to leave a comment by 10 p.m. Texas time.  Winner will be announced in tomorrow’s final rodeo post.  The Texas Dinner Bell will be announced March 31st. You must leave a comment at  each post this week to qualify for that random drawing (because you really gotta want it and I have a low self esteem and comments help me.)


Come back tomorrow for the final Rendezvous day . . . . our date with Rascal Flatts.  Well, not really with them, but I did have this dream once, and–oh, never mind.  I’ll tell ya later.


Comments

  1. says

    omgosh! you are so funny. My family is JUST like that too! (well those of us who shall remain nameless are….) crazy…..

  2. says

    Oh my – have you told your son where wool comes from?

    I’m still laughing and I’m itching for the County Fair! Not that I can claim country as my native land; no, I’m in the Daughters of Suburbia Heritage Club.

    But going to the Fair is like hanging out around Charlotte’s Web – a simple and hopeful place.

    Until the horse starts talking!

    Smiles atcha and thanks for sharing.

  3. says

    keep up the great work on the blog. Do like it! :p Could use some more frequent updates, but i’m sure that you have got better things to do like we all do. =p

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