Riding is expensive. What is unattainable for most Americans can seem like the norm for kids immersed in the hunter/jumper bubble. I want my daughter to understand that every situation, every lifestyle is unique. Her riding development has to happen in a manner that makes sense for our family financially, even if that doesn’t match the trajectory she’s envisioned. 

My husband and I have made ample sacrifices to get our kid to shows and keep her taking lessons with a good trainer, but she’s still going to have to work herself in various ways if she wants to ride. I am blunt with her about the financial ramifications of her riding. I’m not trying to give her a guilt trip that lands her in a therapist’s couch; I’m trying to ground her. I would hate to raise a kid who enters adulthood disillusioned and shocked at the cost of her passion. If she plans to stick with the horses beyond childhood, she needs to be realistic. I’m not urging her to give up on her dreams; I want her to achieve them through her work ethic and adjust them when necessary. 

My daughter knows I expect her to work hard to earn the right to stick with this pricey sport. Most mornings, she’s responsible for the chores at our own little farm. Frosty winter months, she sprints down to the barn in the dark to dole out feed and toss flakes of hay before the bus arrives. We take turns doing the remaining barn chores. Though she doesn’t have a horse to ride at home right now, she’s still expected to step up and help, even when she has piles of homework awaiting. If she’s been at a show all day with her trainer, and I need help with stinky stalls or pony longeing, she helps.

There are other ways she’s learning to contribute at home. Rather than paying someone to clip our aged pony, I handed her the clippers to teach herself to clip. She took the challenge seriously, face pinched in concentration, squatting on the floor to buzz the pony’s fuzzy belly. Though it took hours, and still the pony’s legs sprout stubborn hairy patches, she’s proud of her handiwork and happy to learn a new skill. Next on our list: braiding. Eventually, if she perfects these skills, she can offset the costs of her passion.

Though we have ample work to offer on our farm, my teen spends a few afternoons doing chores at my friend’s farm. It’s vital she navigates a horse boss other than her mom. She’s learning to complete tasks the way someone else requires them. How to bed with pellets versus our straw. How to remember one of the horses gets a flake of alfalfa, not just an orchard-mix like we feed our guys. 

This little part-time job provides benefits beyond teaching her how to work. My friend and my daughter have forged a close relationship; she is honest with my kid, explaining when she’s missed a step or reiterating instructions when required. My daughter can accept criticism and use it to grow without feeling belittled because she knows my friend has a Texas-sized heart. 

In all honesty, I don’t believe my friend truly needs the help, but she’s all about mentoring and rewarding kids who work hard. She’s gifted my daughter the opportunity to ride on occasion, and though she’s a full-on dressage queen and my daughter’s a hunter gal, the chance to ride different mounts and explore another discipline is valuable. Any time on horseback is something my kid craves, and she won’t turn her nose up at dressage saddle. She knows riding is a privilege and a reward for her efforts.  

Over the past two-and-a-half years, my daughter’s also been with a trainer who allows her to pitch in. As a mom, I believe there’s tremendous value in this type of barn culture. I want her immersed in this environment. Throughout these years, my daughter’s contributed to the barn, even when she can’t ride. She jumps at any opportunity to be of service, surrounded by the horses she loves and by the friendships she cherishes. She’s learned lessons about horses, life, and the definition of work ethic through her interactions at the barn. 

She strives to meet her trainer’s expectations, but it hasn’t always been peachy keen. There have been challenging moments when her trainer addressed work ethic head-on. When the trainer noticed too much fooling around, she had serious talks with the kids about the privilege of being immersed in the barn environment. When phones were dinging too often, her trainer had conversations with them about disrespect. If my daughter wanted to be at the barn, it wasn’t to chill. It was to contribute. I appreciate this frankness. No slacking tolerated. 

My husband and I don’t slack either when it comes to walking the talk. We arise at ungodly hours to drop our daughter at the barn, so she can ride to shows with her trainer and the trailer. Yes, I curse out the bleating alarm as I pull myself out of bed to play chauffer. But it is important that my kid understands grooming at shows is an act we support. Just like riding, the opportunity to be at a show in any capacity, even if you don’t have a mount, is a privilege.

 “Thank you so much! I really appreciate you letting me come, I learn so much when going to horse shows even if I don’t show,” my kid texted her trainer recently after a day of grooming. That interaction made me proud, because it is gracious and heartfelt, but also because it shows I’m raising a daughter who really does understand the benefit of working her butt off. Still, it’s a concept I constantly need to reinforce. It’s my job.

I’ve also had to reinforce a different aspect of work with my kid lately, work in the saddle. My daughter’s lease ended a few months ago. She’s been riding significantly less than in the past and longing for more saddle time. I’m navigating this new chapter in her horse story with her as we search for her next-step horse. I shared that we have financial limitations that require creative solutions. She was stuck on continuing along her trajectory, moving up to the 3’ and meeting milestones she felt were valuable. I empathize with her, truly I do. 

However, the reality is her next step may be a step back in fence height and a step forward in other ways. We must consider a project to bring along then sell to augment paying for a next-step horse. Or a green horse that needs miles and might eventually evolve into her next-step horse. Or a next-step horse with a quirk we need time to address. All these options require effort and dedication. They require work and patience.

At first, my kid pushed back at these options with statements like: I see all my friends moving up, and I want to keep progressing. I don’t want to start over. I have long term goals to qualify for Zones or Junior Hunter Finals before I age out. On social media, she watches all the impressive rounds. She covets the idea of showing at indoors, setting her goals on what is most likely not realistic for us. I’ve had to explain she may not be on that indoors path, but if she works hard enough, who knows. For now, however, she will learn different skills and become grittier by riding something less schooled and taking an alternate route. She’s now embraced the creative options and her own journey. She’s come to understand her hard work will pay off even if her horse-future looks different than she anticipated. She’s just lucky to ride.

I’m not a parenting guru with an angel-for-daughter who never balks at my directives. There are plenty of feisty arguments with my daughter about the chores. “I’m toooo tired,” she moans, but eventually I hear the groan of our ancient Gator as she heads out to tuck in the horses. She knows there’s no alternative. Entitlement isn’t a good look when the average kid can’t afford consistent riding lessons, let alone horse ownership. 

I hear a lot of grumblings in the industry about spoiled kids who don’t want to work hard at the horses. Kids who expect things to come too easily both in horses and in life. I know I’m going to sound old-fashioned, but I believe parents make the difference. I’m trying to guide my kid to be her best self, nudging her when she needs reminders, and placing her in situations where she will grow through blood, sweat and tears.

My daughter gets it now. Riding in any form is a luxury. Her big dreams may need to be put on hold. Her big dreams may even evolve into different types of dreams that are less grandiose but equally as meaningful. Regardless, her dreams will require hard work in all its forms. And that is more than OK. 

Jamie Sindell has an MFA in creative writing from the University of Arizona and has ridden and owned hunters on and off throughout her life. She is a mom of five kids, ages 3 to 14. She and her family reside at Wish List Farm, where her horse-crazy girls play with their small pony, Cupcake, and her son and husband play with the tractor.