Parents in town!

Izzy. Tell your story. Listen.

I read recently that Jon Katz, a local author, had to euthanize his beloved border collie Izzy due to a strong and aggressive cancer.  My heart goes out to Jon and his family, Izzy really was a special dog. Two years ago, when I was very sick, I thought it would be a good idea to get out of the house and take a writing class with Jon.  I remember throwing up before getting in the truck to drive to Glens Falls in frigid March weather, listening to Phish's Joy on repeat.  I was so out of it most of the time I don't even remember how I got there, or how I got home.  I probably shouldn't have gone to those classes, and I didn't finish the course.  But the few times I did go, Izzy, a hospice dog, sat with me. He allowed me to focus and take in some of what Jon was saying.  Everyone has a story.  Tell your story. Whether through song, or writing or photography, your story is important and deserves to be heard.  That important lesson has stayed with me, especially when I get frustrated with other people.  Everyone has a story.  Listen. 

I'll always be grateful to Izzy for singling me out.  For settling down at my side those cold nights and sharing his calm presence when I could barely stay upright in my chair.  It is amazing what dogs can do for people.

Thank you Izzy.

Izzy, March 2010

http://www.bedlamfarm.com/2012/04/25/decisions-fly-to-paradise-izzy/

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And two more elbees!

small news

Haha:

Living room curtains came today! Who knew I needed curtain clip rings! Not me!

New camera comes tomorrow!

Chili for dinner!

Spring Hike at Moreau Lake State Park

Ribbon cutting for new section of Moreau's Nature Center

Tree Ear...a jelly fungus

We heard a tiny cry...and saw that a super cute fox pup had tumbled out of this den!

Looking for foxes

Aaron

Jackie Donnelly, author of this fantastic blog!

Aaron, Rebecca, Carla and Moreau

Flushing mama mallard off her nest was pee your pants scary!

Did you know the mnemonic for brown creeper is "will you have sex with me"?

Me neither.

Barn Radio

Used to be, the only place I ever heard country music was in my neighbor's garage.  Everyone else I knew claimed to hate it, and I went right along with that opinion.  But somewhere, sometime, one time, working in a barn changed all that.  When I was a child I rode Appaloosa horses at Spring Valley Farm.  There in the tackroom, amid six-toed mama cats and show ribbons and leather, was a dusty radio, stuck on the country station. It never blared, it was just there with all of the other scents and sounds you encounter in a stable.

I found that same radio years later in a barn on my college campus, permanently tuned and covered in hay dust.  I curried and mucked and tacked up to Montgomery Gentry and Alan Jackson.  Of course, at midnight I'd return home, throw off my chaps and meet my friends for gin and tonics at the jazz club.  But there's a certain comfort country radio brings me that jazz cannot, and it's because you can find it in all my favorite places. 

Go to any barn in the country, any farm or dairy, any rural diner or hunting tavern, and I guarantee you will find my old dusty radio, quietly playing background twang.  The same old radio now sits up on a shelf in my kitchen and in my truck console.  I imagine, as I'm driving or cooking, all the farmers bringing their animals in for the night, the diner waitresses counting tips, the beer in a mason jar.   I imagine that we're all connected, the rural folks and I, as we finish our evening routines, radios crooning.  And I hope that one day I too will find my way back to the barn.

defines dreamy

Fletch's Pad

Sometimes people ask me about the "theme" of Fletch's room.  I guess I could go with an obvious "nature" or "ocean" or "dogs" option, but I'd rather not outright pigeonhole the kid before he's even born.  So we're just going ahead and using a beer label as our color pallette.  You heard me. This isn't just any label though...it was designed for the Vermont brewery Magic Hat by Jim Pollock, renowned Phish poster artist (so really we're sneakily pigeonholing our kid into having a taste for microbrews and jam bands). You can check out Pollock's work here: http://pollockprints.com/biography.htm

Here is the print.  I think we're going to do the walls in that background cream color and add splashes of brightness with the more vibrant hues:

I also found these notecards on Etsy this morning, which I'm going to order and frame and hang on the wall in his room.  I think they're pretty adorable and fitting...right?

Wee Hour Workout

Right now I'm kind of feeling like I didn't just sleep for eight hours.  (Don't tell me to get used to it, do you know how many people say that to me?  Do you know how close I come to smashing them in the face with my coffee mug?)  Fletch is starting to supplement his 6a.m. wake-up call, and Doug's 6:30a.m. alarm clock yawn with special 3a.m. internal organ boxing matches.  No matter that there's a lack of wakeful audience.  I stir to punches, stretches and flips of solitary enjoyment in the early morning hours.  Sometimes it's kind of scary at first, and then a bit frustrating.  It's not like I can tell him to go back to sleep.  I mean, it's me.  But it's not me.  It's someone inside of me.  Working out.  At 3a.m. 

This past week was pretty exhausting...as April always is for environmental educators.  Quick! It's Earth Day! We need a nature person!  And a tree! Let's plant a tree!  I almost feel as if I'm overextending myself at this point, leading multiple hikes a day, and I'm starting to feel as if I should slow down.  (Then I think about that lady that mountain climbed when she was 9 months pregnant and I'm like, you are a total wuss.)  Yesterday we hosted 50 third graders from a local Catholic School for an Earth Day clean-up in partnership with the hotel.  The weather was gorgeous and the kids were sweet.  One of the boys found a DVD entitled "Co-Ed Hotties" and brought it up to me...complete with a picture of a nude woman with stars covering her nipples.  I tried to be serious and just throw the paraphenalia out but my insides were bursting with hilarity. (Colin later informed me over sushi that there is a name for this kind of discovery:  Woods Porn! It's real and it's on Urban Dictionary and it almost made me pee my pants again).  I digress.  I led another hike in the late afternoon, and although the sun was shining and the breeze was heavenly I was losing my voice and spent by the end. I guess I'll just suck it up, as the busy days are only going to continue until the end of the month. Then my focus will shift to swimming lessons and crazy moms, which is decidedly less physically tiring, but more of a mental excercise. 

It was very nice to sit down with one of the employees of the hotel and her 4 month old after the Earth Day business.  She and the rest of the hotel employees gave me a great baby bag filled with supplies that new moms never know they need, along with a very generous gift certificate.  The gesture was so sweet, and I'm thankful to be meeting new people every day with good advice and funny stories.  Forget dogs, bumps are truly a conversation starter!

So it's Saturday, and it's supposed to rain here soon (we really need it), but right now the birds are singing, the Band is on the local radio station, and the sun is playing through the leaves.  It looks like another weekend of list-crossing-off, home renovation and baby preparation.  Colin is continuing to work on the office and has already been up for hours.  After next weekend we will start on Fletch's room.  We found a pretty awesome homemade changing table/cabinet for sale on Craigslist that I want to nab for upstairs.  Along those lines, we're all signed up for childbirth classes and start on April 30th.  The final countdown has begun.  So...I guess I'll get going and fold some laundry.   Or maybe I'll just walk over to the farmers market and take a nap before my next wee-hour workout.



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First, peace and love to Levon Helm...this is the song that our porch band covers the most...you can listen and read at the same time...

I'm amazed and relieved that Fletch and I have hit 30 weeks and the official 10 week countdown has begun!  How does time pass so quickly and so slowly all at once?  We had a lovely Easter weekend in New Jersey visiting with the family.  Doug loved seeing his friend Fiona, and we loved spending time and eating with loved ones, and celebrating Dad's birthday.  The woods were dry and sparse, but May Apples were showing up and lambs were playing in Docherty's fields.  

We spent the next weekend in Saratoga, crossing things off of lists.  I've been plugging away at the registry, researching item by item, and I cleaned out the truck so that I could show it to potential buyers without the embarassment of typical working truck remnants:  Doug's first collar, my sparkly prom bracelet, a staple gun, old pea seeds, a 50lb stump, three pairs of boots, some fleece and pliers.  Yeah.  We did take a trip to the Saratoga Independent School for a seminar on cloth diapers.  We got to pass around many many different types of covers and liners, and though it was a short class I definitely feel more comfortable with what's available now. 

Bonus: the teacher lady had a sleeve tattoo.  I confessed to Colin duing lunch at Mr. Ed's Ice Cream and Barbecue that I tend to trust "badass" looking people, the lady with homegrown patchwork shirts, yoga pants, tattoos and wild kids a lot more than the straight laced looking moms wearing khakis and preppy shirts.  Whatever. I judge. Anyway, the diaper lady was cool and I look forward to meeting with her and making the final decision in what we will purchase. We both like the idea of buying some covers and lots of prefolds and a few snappees for our final diaper regimen.  Look at me, I have a new lingo!  And this place makes a fine milkshake:

We spent the rest of the weekend working on the house...Colin is redoing the office as a dennish type room (the furthest room away from the baby's...).  It was damaged last winter before we had the roof redone.  The room will be navy blue (Behr rainstorm in case you're into that type of thing) with white ceiling and trim.  Since it's right off the kitchen it will be a nice spot for the baby to chill while dinner is being prepped or to spend 3a.m. in July watching the Olympics.  Thank god for the Olympics.

Monday showed us 90 degree weather.  Remind me not to be pregnant in July, August, September, or Texas.  I'm hoping June won't be that bad around here...because it is not a pretty sight:

We visited the doc today, and though they are pretty hard set on me gaining more weight, everything checked out ok.  Fletch is 2lbs 10 ounces.  He's still sitting in the same spot, head down, butt on my left belly, feet on my right belly. We saw him hiccup, but don't expect any more ultrasound pictures.  He ALWAYS has his hands in front of his face, and sometimes it makes him look like he has a hole in his head. Let's just not go there (she assured me he does not, in fact, have a hole in his head). He wakes up around 6:15a.m. now, and it's something I can count on.  He doesn't stop moving much.  Thirty weeks.  THIRTY WEEKS!  I cannot comprehend.



From here on out I will be doing a less creative version of the belly pictures, as per a suggestion of an old friend...just a side profile to watch the little bugger grow.

I guess I will go make some stuffed peppers for dinner.  But it's just. so. hard. to. leave. this. couch.



Why?

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Photo courtesy of Rebecca Mullins

I kinda look like I belong on 12 and Pregnant, so I actually fit right in with the 5 o'clock crowd at the local Pizza Hut.  The second after this picture was snapped the door behind me opened and literally hit me in the ass on my way out.  Baby Expo this weekend.  Never thought I'd utter those words.  Starting the hunt for new old truck-cars. Back hurts.  Swapping pre-natal yoga for Pslut next Thursday.  Thinking about midwives...and pediatricians.  Can't wait for Gemma and Ilan's pizza bagel to arrive.  Congrats to the Verbilas on their new baby Reed! I dream about owning slate floored foyers and over-sized doorknobs, and really, that is all that amounts to nesting at this point.  And that's ok by me. 

Lyme Island

The first time I went to the obgyn after I found out I was pregnant, they asked me if I had any pre-existing conditions.  I told them about chronic Lyme disesase and they neglected to acknowledge it or write it down.  Months later, one of the doctors decided that it was important enough information to at least include in my medical history.  But that was the last mention of anything Lyme related. Yet, while most mothers to be worry about whatever it is they worry about, Lyme is the first item on my list.  I worry about cord blood, cord blood banking, getting the baby tested, infecting my child with Lyme infested breastmilk, not breastfeeding, whether I willl crash back into my symptoms after the pregnancy hormones subside, what happens to infants who contract Lyme Disease congenitally, how to treat it if that happens...  I do not worry about whether I will be a good parent, whether I will bond with my child, the lack of sleep or economics. Unlike these problems, Lyme has no solutions, and at times it is just  very lonely and isolating to have to think about such things.

So you can imagine the level of anxiety when I woke up this morning and discovered a tick attached to my boob. 

I called my doctor (who actually takes me seriously) and scheduled an appointment to get a script for some antibiotics.  I half expected to fight another battle to get what I needed, instead I just needed to guide the pros.  For example, the protocol now is to offer Doxycycline for 3 weeks.  When the nice lady, not my usual doctor, suggested this, I suggested in return that pregnant ladies cannot take doxycycline...but wouldn't amoxicillin be nice?  To my surprise, she had to leave the room to figure out what to prescribe. This made me sad.   For one, I guess not a lot of pregnant people come in and request antibiotics for a tick bite.  It seemed like I was the first one to do so.  And also in an area where Lyme and other tick borne illnesses are so prevalent, you would hope the doctors would be a little bit more in tune with how to treat or prevent the disease.    But I digress.  My point is that I got to be the ambassador for tick-bitten pregnant women at my doctors' office today.  I hope it serves someone else well.

Meanwhile, my dog got a Lyme vaccination today.  I just don't understand.

So today I started up some probiotics and chased them with a lovely local yogart smoothie.  Tomorrow I will start some amoxicillin to keep the bad guys at bay, and I will try repeat as a mantra, a phrase from my coworker, "Most of what we worry about never comes to pass."

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