Arabian Ponies

Renegade Ponies is a family farm that is dedicated to raising family safe Arabian Ponies. Our herd sire is Blazing Renegade aka Reno, a reg. Half Arabian bay pony, or better yet, Arabian Pony! So here we are! Arabian Ponies are of course Arabians crossed with pony breeds that will not detract from the Arabian type! Welcome and enjoys our ponies! Feel free to check out our ponies and sales list! Please Keep It Clean as this is a family site!

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Location: Northwest, United States

Renegade Farm Arabian Ponies is a family run adventure and is all about creating a safe and gentle family pony with Arabian blood that is also beautiful that can be used for trail riding, working cows as well as excel in the show ring! All our ponies are kid tested and mother approved by our 6 kids and approved by me, the mom! Our stud Blazing Renegade aka Reno has proven to produce to this ideal! We offer ponies and horses for sale and stand our stallion to outside mares. We also have taken in Arabians that were in need of homes and placed them in good homes to make sure they didn't end up in the sale yard! We also have create the Arabian Pony Registry of America for all Arabian Ponies of North America at www.arabianponies.org

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Another Hilarious Mom Story------laughed till I cried!

A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's rest-room stall.
By Shannon Popkin

My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and doesit quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we're in the library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window. People often comment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned- 3-year-old. And you never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always fully cranked.There've been several embarrassing times that I've wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last week at Costco. Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so I took Cade with me into the rest-room. If you'd been one of the ladies in the rest-room that evening, this is what you would have heard coming from the second to the last stall: "Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now? Mommy,what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?"At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full ... 4? 5? Maybe we could wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out of this stall and reveal my identity.Cade continued, "Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you? Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy! Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on the potty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying to see in dere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You are gonna get some candy!"I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side of me. Where is a screaming new born when you need one? Good grief. This was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long timebefore exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, "Why don't you look in Mommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some."No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies. Oh! Mommy!" He started to gag at this point. "Uh oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is so gross!! As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject. I began to reason with myself: OK. There are four other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be reasonably assured that those who overheard this embarrassing monologue will be long gone."Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done doing stinkies! Get up! Get up!" He grunted as he tried to pull me. Now I could hear full-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door."Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking under da door? What were you wooking at, Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?"More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess the situation."Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out now, Mommy."He started pounding on the door. "Mommy, don't you want to wash your hands? I want to go out!!" I saw that my "wait 'em out" plan was unraveling. I sheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside my stall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, all smiling and starting to applaud. My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I thought, "Where's the fineprint on the 'motherhood contract' where I signed away every bit of mydignity and privacy?"But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as Mommy to this little fellow.

Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three. She lives with her family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she no longer uses public rest-rooms with her 3 yr. old in tow.

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