So perhaps the writing was on the wall for what kind of vaulting evening it would be... driving to September Song Stables, where indeed, the happiest horses must live, in 102 degree weather, in 5 pm traffic, on I35, the most annoying highway in Austin, my dog was throwing up (into my hand, yes, because that was a better option than on my pants) going 60 mph and what was on NPR but a story about tinkering camp... what's that? the story began with the waiver parents must sign for their child to attend "...and by the way, one of the risks of attending this camp is serious injury or death." The man whose brainchild tinkering camp was came up with the idea while visiting a friend with a 6 yr old. During his visit, she got up from the kitchen table and yelled out at her child "what do you have--is that a stick? You know the rules about playing with sticks". Sticks are dangerous? I suppose so, in the world that seems like a fever dream I had when I was 4 years old--big plastics playground sets, no hard edges, nothing to harm the precious apparently immensely fragile child. I've thought this for a long time, that it feels unnatural. I grew up in the 70s with pull tab cans (very good at slicing those fingers), unsupervised jungle gyms, and Big Wheels (maybe you had the Green Machine)...and what about those metal skates that clung onto your shoes (hopefully!!) as you careened down the STEEPest hill you could find, only to crash and burn 2/3 the way down....
But now, kids are protected from any possibility of, well, adventure...
So this man invented Tinkering Camp... where kids are encouraged to use power tools to build a roller coaster and then use it. There's a 1 injury a day recommendation, but as one of the boys (although there seemed to be equal numbers of girls at the camp) said "I've had 3 injuries today."
Good for him. If you get out of childhood without a scar on your forehead (probably caused by a sibling--ha! sorry Rachel!! love you, mean it) have you been a little too safe?
And now I'm going to vaulting, having wiped the dog vomit on a towel -- & hey, I hate to admit I can also text at 60 mph, but will stop that practice, that's just dumb, and I'm nursing a pulled pectoralis minor (the muscle that lies right under your boob, btw...not an easy one to ice and I look like I'm feeling myself up all time from cradling it...hmm there are worse things ) from of all things, a yoga class..so maybe feeling a little, oh, vulnerable...
But it's always fun going to September Song. A little jumping on the trampoline, a little hooping, flying the girls (we're working with some acro yoga moves) just a little fun.. Paka gets lost for a bit and shows up wet and covered in mud so she's nearly unrecognizable as a black and white dog and just looks mud brown...she's been on her own adventure we know not where.
And then we go to the horses.. I can't work regularly because of this pulled muscle (and totally grousing about it) but do get to work with Teddy (big ol' draft paint, I love him) doing some compulsaries at a walk/trot and then a little at a canter.. which feels great, but is different. Feels like you're flying, and with Teddy you are, because he's a big guy. So I try a move (new to me at the canter) called a mill--pretty straightforward, start sitting front and lifting a single leg at a time move to side to back to side to front. Well I get to sitting backwards and in the moment of transition, know, in that sense of right before a wreck, the "oh geez, I'm so going down- I hope Teddy's big hooves clear me". And then plop, I've fallen, landed square on my butt. But it doesn't hurt, doesn't even make me scared. It seems funny. I knew a fall would come at a some point, and maybe I'll be sore tomorrow, but it was ok.
Ok to fall. Ok to feel "oops, that's it, I'm going down".
And what then? Got back up and did it again--not the fall, but completed a mill, at the canter, yes, and some more moves....
Thanks to our trainer Mel for always allowing us the opportunity to get out of the comfort realm, to get back up after the plop...even if I can't walk tomorrow.
Here's to having a little adventure. A tinkering camp of one's own.
And good luck to the team (the Lone Star Vaulters). They're going to their first national competition in CA this week.
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There are some of us who like the fact that times have changed and that kids can play in safe(r) environments, although on the other hand, my father was still able to swim in the Maas when he was a child, then a clear-water river, now certainly not safe to swim in anymore... Times do change. We used to grow old without Botox and plastic surgery too...
Enjoying the pics. Evelina especially likes them and stands on her head in the kitchen, like "Aunt Becca!"
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