Eight Belles

So in order to get Bella to watch the Derby, which I sorta did, I flipped on the tube and pointed out Eight Belles, the only filly in the race. The only girl, Bella! We've gotta root for her! She's beautiful! And on and on about her number (5) and the colors her jockey was wearing (red and white checks) and there she goes into the gate, and let's follow her around the track!

And we cheered and whooped and Eight Belles came in second. And Bella burst into tears because she didn't win. And I was trying desperately not to laugh at this emotional collapse while delivering my "awwww, honey, your horse doesn't always win" lesson, which I think is a fairly important one in life come to think of it, when suddenly the television grew rather quiet, and there were some panicked statements about a horse down on the track, and suddenly two very big equine ambulances pulled out in front of the stricken horse.

Never a good sign when big vehicles are maneuvered in front of an accident scene, another grim life lesson in case you ever wonder if the city bus was involved in the accident or just serving as an 18-row distraction.

And while they spoke in the delicate horse euphamisms, "they're putting her down," I looked stricken at my child who had just invested the last 30 minutes of her life into this animal. I've already explained two horse deaths to her this year (one of my aunt's -- and her big stuffed animal's namesake, and my neighbor's) and just did not have the heart to tell her what had just happened while she was still wailing about not winning, but starting to perk up remembering I had said something about a necklace of roses for the winner. And I told myself, I will tell her if she asks. I will tell her the truth, in full, if she asks. Please don't ask, Bella. Please don't ask. She didn't. I turned off the television.

And I promised myself to never, ever, ever cheer, hope, root, pray, support, dream, want, wave flags, wave foam fingers, for anything (when the anything involves a live object) again as long as I live. I would hate to see this losing and then DYING thing become a pattern.

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Hey, Yo, Commenter Shout Out:

Brittany who commented on Going Through It Again: would you mind horribly telling me more about your situation? How they knew (that the placenta ruptured AND corrected?) What happened then? And anything else you'd like to tell me. That is, if you're comfortable. You can do so in the comments or email me at TashABF at gmail. If you're not up to it, I totally understand. Just trying to wrap my head around some of this.

Megan, if you're there and reading, email me too. Would like to know 'sup.

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Hey, thanks a million for following over to Glow in the Woods. (Shameless shill.) Really, though. I posted again today, and need to sort out in my head long term what's going to live here and what will get deposited over there. Had some mother's day angst that wound up over there, but believe me, there's more where that came from, so I'll try and get something up later this week. I'm guessing anything that necessitates the f-bomb will probably wind up right here, if that's ok by you. Hope you all are well.