Oh Yeah! Well My Mom Can Kill A Horse!

Most days I think I'm fairly well equipped to parent my children. I've only had a few instances in my fifteen-plus years of motherhood where doubt crept in and I was ready to call Child Services on myself. But, I swear, I always went straight to the Customer Service counter when I heard my name over the store intercom and couldn't find Junior under the clothing racks. And eating half-a-bottle of fluoride only gave my other kid really bad gas. So, all in all, I should be able to steer clear of a visit from Super Nanny as long as she doesn’t visit the local park where the sweet sound of children’s voices is only occasionally interrupted by one of my own yelling “Oh Yeah!? Well, MY MOM can kill a horse!”

So, maybe my attempt at raising kids on a farm hasn’t been all apple orchards and sweet tea, okay? They keep sneaking out the door and running barefoot through rattle snake country! And no amount of Dr. Oz episodes will keep them from kissing the farm dogs on the lips. Seriously, have you ever SEEN what farm dogs eat in an average day? Blek, ptooey, yuck, cough!

So, yeah, I’ll admit it. There was this one time that I came dangerously close to losing the best hundred-bucks I ever spent. Her name is Joanie-The-Big-Fat-Pony. She's got the cutest thighs and belly you've ever seen, but if she so much as sniffs a blade of grass or alfalfa hay? It's over, people. She's down for the count; moaning and bloated and full of more gas than Uncle Festus.

Joanie-The-Big-Fat-Pony came to us one Easter morning a couple years ago by way of the Easter Bunny. And I have a very faint memory of some mention by the previous owners of something along the lines of something like, "don't feed the pony EVER or she'll blow up like a balloon and die!" or something like that.

So it wasn't long after we got Her Royal Fatness home before those final instructions came crashing back into the forefront of my brain; the same brain that must have Italian roots somewhere in its lineage, because I like to feed my children and my man, and every animal we own, lots of treats and good food. After all, we Italian Mamas know that food makes people happy! Oh, and we yell sometimes. But I already confessed my quota of bad-parenting habits today, so let's move on.

And anyway, I'm better now. About the food, that is. I love that pony like she’s one of my own kids and it pains me to see her lame and groaning. So when the day finally came that she presented signs of having done snuck into her boyfriend's stash of clover, it was the last straw. I rounded up the cow-pokes that live under my roof and eat my food and made them build me a fence.

So Joanie-The-Big-Fat-Pony is behind bars now. The tabloids will be dishing that she's in rehab and pregnant; or taping an episode of Nip Tuck. But don't you believe a word of it. She serves her time patiently, gets a pedicure and is then released early for good behavior. So she can get back to the joy of doing what God created her to do.

If you’d like to learn more about how NOT to kill your pony, come to the Central Oregon Ranch Supply’s Round-Up & Trade Show this weekend in Powell Butte. It’ll take place Friday night and all day Saturday. There’ll be live entertainment, really good food and screaming deals on farm stuff. Super Nanny is busy taping new episodes, but you can visit with plenty of other experts about your four-legged animals, to be sure.