Earlier this week, I wrote about the super-duper security measures being taken by our school. Rest assured that our school security keeps our hallways free of roaming terrorists, chupacabras, and parents. And kids with untucked shirts. Because, you know, if the shirt is untucked, the learning can fall right out.
Anyway, a mommy writer named Hartley wrote a comment on that post. She had had a similar experience with a school not being happy about wanting to walk her son in. Hartley's comment said, "I assured her this wasn't my first rodeo."
And that is now my favorite expression. Particularly because this weekend I am going to my first rodeo. Y'all.
This weekend is the start of the County Fair. I am equal parts so excited I could pee and so terrified I could vomit. All four of our children, the Young Carnivores, really want to go. Even Little Dude wants to go, now that we told him there wouldn't be any clowns. Except maybe rodeo clowns. Damn, why are there always clowns?
Nothing brings on my anxiety like the possibility of clowns, except the thought of taking all four children to a crowded place where every single person is either hopped up on cotton candy or mellowed out on Fried Frozen Magaritas. If you were going to steal a child, this is where you would go. Screaming kids and exhausted parents everywhere. If some kid is being hoisted out hollering and crying, no one will bat an eyelash.
They talk up the fair pretty good at school, so the kids are pretty much bouncing off the walls to go. The school district even closes the schools for the first day of the fair, a bit of small-towny goodness that I adore. It's also a plus for the girls competing in the County Fair Queen contest, because this way they don't have to miss any school for their "scholarship competition."
Strangely, I was not invited to be a contestant in the Fair Queen pageant, or contest, or whatever it is. It's disappointing. I may have to make myself a crown out of fried Pop Tarts. Which, conveniently, are sold at fairs in Texas. Sweet.
There is also a corresponding male role for all these categories but obviously no one cares about that. It's like the groomsmen in a wedding party: yes, they look good in a tux but whatev, we're here to critique the bride's and bridesmaids' dresses.
I would totally enter Little Dude in the Fair Prince category except that it sounds like it would be the worst kind of social / sensory overload situation and would probably result in needing (even more) years of therapy. But it would be awesome because he's adorable and I could be all, he's disabled, and then he would get the sympathy vote and probably win. That's right: I would totally play the disability card. Because that's what good Pageant Moms do. That, and trip the other contestants as they walk onto the stage.
Once all the royalty has been paraded about, livestock will be displayed. There are particular shows for rabbits, turkeys, heifers, and all kinds of other delicious creatures. There are also shows scheduled for "roasters, freezers, and broilers," and ohmygod I just realized I think they're talking about chickens, not appliances. The freezer show even has an invitation-only reception beforehand.
I have not been invited.
There is also a rodeo. There are some warm-up act rodeos, apparently with lesser rodeo-ers, and then there is a real rodeo with professionals. Because that is a job. Apparently.
Everywhere in this country, children say that want to be cowboys and cowgirls when they grow up. Pretty much everywhere non-Texas, adults will chuckle and pat them on their addled little noggins. But not here. Because here in Texas, you can really grow up to be a cowboy. Or at least a guy who gets some money to ride an animal that clearly would prefer to be left alone.