I’m a Good Mom—Barn Time With My Kids Makes Me Better

I’m a mom with an overfull plate, heaped full of kids and ponies. A mom with a mind moving a trillion miles an hour. 

While I’m frying eggs for the kids’ breakfast, short-order cook style, I’m thinking about doctor’s appointments, swim lessons, riding lessons, the birthday gift I forgot to buy… and of course, the inevitable: What will I make for dinner??

Then, there’s our farm, and all the mental hurdles that come along with running it. I worry about the impact my inability to be still has on my kids. Often, I feel guilty about my failure to stay focused, especially on them. It makes me feel like a bad mom.

“Can you sit and watch a movie with us, Mom?” Not anymore! 

I can’t make it through five minutes of television without my mind spinning into oblivion, thinking about all the things. Even if I try to focus, I just can’t seem to make my brain-on-steroids stop. If only my brain were a horse—something I could train to halt and stand. 

But my brain-halt is half-hearted, and pawing: I would fail in the show ring because it’s so rude.

When my kids jockey for my undivided attention—and no matter how hard I will myself to stay in the moment—my head has other ideas. The mound of laundry, the unwritten article, the hay delivery. The pieces of my life collide and scream: Take care of this!! Or else!!

So rarely do I make it through a game of Uno or a craft, because my head’s unraveling like a heap of yarn.

That’s where the beauty of horses comes into our lives, for me and my kids. The horses make me a better mom by keeping me grounded. The barn is my version of a retreat. The moment I step into the aisle, my brain begins to slow. My revved-up heart putters to a more normal rhythm. 

I take a breath, inhale the sweet-smelling straw, appreciate the sound of horses rustling in their stalls. I can just be. 

Horses are a kind of meditation because they require my full, undivided attention. On the ground, if my mind wanders, I might get kicked or accidentally stepped on. Under saddle, if a deer has the audacity to jump out from behind a bush while I’m texting or daydreaming, I could find myself looking up at my puzzled horse from the dirt. 

I’m forced to focus on the little things at the barn. Because unlike my kids, who have VERY loud voices, horses can’t talk. It’s on me to look for injuries, blankets that shifted, how much water they drank last night. Horses force me to be present and mindful in a way I struggle to achieve in other aspects of my life. 

And my barn-life has a trickle-down effect on the rest of my family. 

Even more powerful than my own ability to focus is the way the horses connect me to my children, offering me the opportunity to be present. When I help them on their ponies, the rest of the world—poof—disappears. It is just me, my kids, and our animals.

When I teach my children to look for thrush, and pull saddle pads up under the pommel, we are in the moment, focusing. My attention is required for their safety and learning. The act of passing my passion along to them is so all-consuming that it forces me to be in the now. It’s magical, really. Because nothing else has this effect on my parenting.

When we trail ride, we are mindful. We marvel at the colorful trees, notice the ebb and flow of the seasons. We hear the crunch of dirt beneath the hooves, the berries sprouting on the bushes. Moments I never stop to appreciate when I’m scooting my cart around the grocery store, then rushing home exactly 10 miles over the speed limit.

I also see the way the barn pulls us together as a family, a break in our busy lives. How we can enjoy our time together, a luxury having our own barn affords us. 

Often, I work with my kids individually on their riding, and that one-on-one time is precious. They love it. 

These are the memories they will recall when they age, not trips to arcades or to the mall. Not the brands I bought them or the dinners I cooked. Not how many wrinkles I did or didn’t have in my selfies. They will think back on our time at the barn.

Sure, it’s not failproof. Sometimes it’s still a hurricane of chaos down at our barn—my two younger daughters running in circles, hurling rocks and sticks, begging to watch YouTube videos on my phone. 

I throw poop into the wheelbarrow at record speed, just to get the chores finished and save us all from a trip to the ER. But then, there are moments of togetherness, with limited fighting. Grooming, bubble-coated bathing—things we don’t seem to achieve in the same way anywhere else in the world. 

Because with my five kids ranging from 4 to 15, there are few activities that fit everyone’s needs. Horse-life offers us that. Even if we are just down at the barn feeding hay and blasting annoying pop music, we are in it. Present. Together.

The most glaring difference in my parenting when I’m down at the barn? I put my phone down. My face isn’t buried in some Insta thread or email. I am not jumping to reply to every PING like Pavlov’s tech-addicted dog. I am doing the horses with my kids. They are the priority. It’s nearly impossible to tack up with a phone in your hand. And we certainly don’t do so while mounted. It’s not safe. It’s not smart.

My kids get the best of me when we have horse-time. Because horses bring me back to life. 

The barn is a place filled with smells and sounds I have cherished for years—elements that, somehow, haven’t lost their power over me. That makes me a better me and a better mamma.

As the world becomes more complex and technology-driven, it pushes us further away from the here and now. Further from true happiness. Further from whom we truly are and more towards whom we think we need to be. 

Thank goodness horses pull me back in. It’s about connection and relationships: Not to someone online with a handle. Not about the products I must buy. Not about getting to all the activities. It is about being present with my children. Doing my best as a mom. 

And, of course, doing the horses.