There are a fraction of mothers in the world who can answer the question, “whats it like to be the mother of a cowboy?” I am one of those people.
I don’t know how I would fare as a mother of a rodeo cowboy, although I may become that at times in the future. I have often thought I could never be a mother in the stands at a rodeo watching my son ride bulls. I can’t watch strangers do that, let alone my son.
My life as the mother of a cowboy has details that many of you might guess. A porch where there is always a pair of cowboy boots lying about, chaps to find a spot for, and spurs, pairs of spurs seem to swim around our porch like goldfish at times. I do laundry that has rough looking stains due to bareback riding and I always have straw, hay, or manure in the clothes or in close proximity to our washing machine.
The thing I want to talk about though is how having a cowboy for a son is shaping the action in the house. Perhaps there are stages of that. When Morgan was a little boy he could adapt many different household items to make for himself a pretend horse. There was a lot of pretend play that happened that was fun to watch.
Lately the action has evolved. Morgan has been taking roping lessons and has had some serious roping work to do with the herd. He is motivated to get better and better. That means practice. Sometimes its outside with his roping dummy. Lately, often, like every night, it has meant he practices in the house. He has adopted a long piece of red parachute cord, created a special end on it (the technical word is Hondo) and with that he practices his roping skills as often as he can. Until yesterday there were four humans in the house besides himself, there are four dogs in the house at different times, we have all been the object of his roping passion. It seems Morgan is drawn to his rope like a magnet. Supper ends, he gets up like he is going to get ice cream, maybe he is, but he comes back with that rope. Practice begins. The dogs get the brunt of it and they are very patient. I get up to get something from the kitchen and I am roped, with about 90% accuracy. His work is actually impressive. But I am not always patient like the dogs. Mostly I am amused, because I never seem to see it coming.
I am out of time so this is it. This is what its like to be a mother of a cowboy, at least for me, right now. There is always something swirling in the air….. ropes, some exasperation, laughter and the odd swear thrown about when called for.