For weeks, I went back and forth: To leadline or not to leadline? The past two years, I documented our Devon leadline exploits: getting gussied up, battling the stress, riding the high, and recovering from the horse show hangover. And while I treasure those precious memories, I also treasure what’s left of my sanity and my marriage. After much wavering, I decided to skip leadline and spare my family from full-on Devon Horse Show Mom psycho mode.

One luxury of living 20 minutes from this iconic Pennsylvania show is that we could still enjoy it as a family but on our own terms. Less sweat. Less moola. Fewer heart palpitations. I’ll admit, the morning of leadline day, I felt a pang of regret. But when one of my daughters barfed all over the backseat of the car that afternoon, I was grateful we skipped. Plus, we still have one year of leadline left before my youngest ages out.

Though I had promised my two eligible girls we’d leadline this year, they were easily bribed with the promise of lemon sticks. And since my 4-year-old doesn’t listen to a word I say, she continued telling people she was doing Devon and probably still will. Which is fine. She just doesn’t realize it’ll be next year … or never.

So, this year, we made a new kind of Devon memory, as a family of spectators.

My 15-year-old, a certified Devon addict, didn’t need me to experience Devon her way. The first week of the show, she spent two days at Devon with friends, fan-girling over her Instagram idols, who were all incredibly gracious. “Mom, I shook JJ’s hand!” “I met Olivia Sweetnam! She was so sweet. And I got a picture with Rylynn Conway!” Pure Devon joy for a teenager.

My eldest also accompanied me and two of her sisters on May 25 to the “Itty Bitty Tea Party,” which is an event held annually at the iconic Devon Club. Devon describes it as “a classic children’s afternoon full of fun and refreshments.” I was proud I remembered to buy tickets for this in advance and coordinated with two other friends to meet us there. 

But attending this special afternoon meant I would have to stuff my heathens into their Sunday best, coax my teen out of ripped jeans, and swap my leggings for pants that button. Thankfully, that was still less stressful than leadline outfit planning. Pants hid my unshaven legs, and sunglasses hid the luggage-sized bags under my eyes. I think I faked the classic lady-of-Devon part semi-well (see pics).

As for my girls, I managed to scrounge up matching dresses from the laundry pile so people might think I had my mom-act together. Spoiler: I didn’t. 

At the dignified tea, my 5-year-old acted undignified. 

“I don’t understand why they had to put jelly on their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she shrieked in protest at the tea sandwich selection. She glared at the volunteer servers and drowned her sorrows in lemonade. The dance floor was a hard no for my grouchy kid, too. While other girls danced their little hearts out to live music, my hangry kid brooded on my lap. Regardless, we all enjoyed the incredible view of the Dixon Oval, which was full of drool-worthy horses. “Wow! Look!” My girls pointed at the riders schooling in the ring through the huge windows. 

The tea party was lovely and memorable. And so very Devon.

Afterwards, I dragged the girls, hopped up on lemonade, through the boutique village as they pawed at everything in sight. I prayed they wouldn’t make us Devon pariahs by ruining any of the gorgeous goods on display. Even in my haste, I appreciated the herds of people drawn to the show to enjoy the shopping, horses, eating and camaraderie.

My Devon musings were interrupted by my kids shouting about a totally different kind of teacup. We had navigated the maze of tents and arrived at the fair rides. I stuffed the kids with popcorn, prayed they didn’t puke on the whirling teacups, and caught my breath. 

I ran into a non-horsey friend at the fair who shared that she “wanted her children to experience something special from her own childhood.” I just love how Devon is both nostalgic and resilient, withstanding the test of time to be tradition for so many families. Though we didn’t last the entire day, we all left happy and excited for the Sapphire Grand Prix later in the week.

Five of our seven went to the grand prix, with my son opting out and me leaving the 4-year-old home with a sitter upon envisioning her past-bedtime tantrum reverberating around the ring, and McLain glaring at me in disgust. 

The night of the grand prix was magic. The girls inhaled greasy French fries with a side of pizza and relished their lemon sticks while I (shocker) sipped wine. We got to our seats just in time for the action and watched in awe as incredible horses and riders attacked the tricky course. 

We hooted and hollered with the crowd and helped a family wedged into the bleachers beside us understand the rules of the class. This was their first horse show experience; Devon is so incredibly special in that way, drawing swarms of lay people along with horsey families like mine. 

As the week wound down, I scrolled through beautiful leadline posts again and felt another wave of FOMO. But that was quickly eclipsed by the memory of my own resting bitch face in every photo last year. And I reminded myself, we had an amazing time this year. We created new family traditions. 

This year was a reminder that you don’t always have to give into the hype. You don’t have to tumble down the social media rabbit hole and come out the other side feeling like a failure because you didn’t do the thing. It’s OK to opt out, be average, and just enjoy greasy fries and the moment. To just enjoy Devon.

Plus, there’s always next year. Maybe I’ll aim for the family class and leadline. Or maybe I’ll just focus on surviving the year without a nervous breakdown and/or a divorce and see how that goes first.

Tune in May 2026 to find out …

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 4 to 15. She and her family reside at Wish List Farm, where her horse-crazy girls play with their pony and her son and husband play with the tractor.