Beeeeeez

My husband officially became a keeper of bees this week.
It's been a long time coming; it's something that he's been wanting to do for years - long before he and I ever started hanging out together.

You know how I wrote about him having hand, foot and mouth a few weeks ago, and how completely miserable it was for him to have an itchy burning rash all over his hands and feet?  Well, now he comes home with stingers hanging off his clothing, and swollen fingers, and proudly shows me all the places where he's been stung that day - and is really happy about it all!

I got to go see his bees yesterday.  Being pregnant, I have a valid excuse to not get too close to the bees just yet, so I sat nearby and watched him and his beekeeping buddy do their thing with the bees.  It's a very nice spot.  Think: rolling farm fields covered in blooming red clover, a nearby pond, and a bunch of happy worker bees nestled into a grove of trees.  Now, as long as the bears stay away, we'll be good to go!

So what's my job in all this?  Well, eventually, someday, I'll probably have to get close enough to the bees to risk being stung myself and actually do some physical labour.  But until then, I'm the stay-at-home-beekeeping-bookkeeper.  Beekeeping is classified as agriculture.  It's pretty much the only farming you can do without actually having any land.  It also comes with a lot of paperwork and rules & regulations that I've been told I'm in charge of!

Anyway, who knows where it'll go from here.  It might continue to be something small to keep Dave occupied on weekends, or, in 10 years, we might be hauling in a million dollars worth of honey each year!  (Hahaha.... just kidding - it is FARMING after all.  'Profit' and 'Farming' don't usually belong in the same sentence!)

One Month

I get two comments on a daily basis now:

1. You must be getting excited!

2.  You're not very big...


Ok, for starters, 'excited' and I don't hang out much.  Especially when it comes to thoughts of LABOUR AND DELIVERY, and endless crying, and poopy diapers, and sleepless nights.  You get my point?  It's not exciting.  It's the opposite of exciting.  It's pretty much terrifying.  You can only watch so many YouTube videos to prepare for such a thing!

And no, baby showers do not make it any more 'real'.  Neither does a fully furnished baby room, nor being kicked in the ribs at 3am, nor watching the date on the calendar creep ever closer.  It just really doesn't.  I don't think it will be real until there is a screaming child handed to me and someone says 'this belongs to you', and I say, 'Ok, this is real'.  The other day, I was told by a friend with a two year old that it took her about a month of living in a fog before one day she realized that, 'holy cow, I really am a mother'.  It's just the way it goes. 


And as for not being very big....
I'm really, really sorry?  Apparently, the 45lbs I've gained is invisible to everyone but me.  I feel like a freakin' sumo wrestler!  I surpassed the boob to belly ratio ages ago, and am now working on the belly to toe ratio - you know, that point where you look down and can no longer see your own toes.

Speaking of feet: Cankles are ....awesome?