Baby Making

Last year Jazz surprised us by foaling at 324 days on April Fool's Day.  That is apparently when her prank started. 

After 5 weeks of camping at the barn and trying to convince everyone that I am not actually crazy, Jazz foaled at 355 days.  Not a long pregnancy for a horse, whose "normal" range is 320-370, but long enough for me!  I swear that mare laughed at me every night.

One boarder even brought up that my neighbors must be speculating that Horse Show Husband and I were calling it quits.  Of course, he finished up three grueling months of tax season, including many late nights and weekends at the office, the same weekend that I went on foal watch and was only home for a few hours every couple of days. 

I learned a few things during my tour of duty.  The number one thing I learned is that I do NOT want chickens.  I always thought it would be nice.  I'd wear an apron and throw feed from it.  They'd eat all the nasty bugs.  Ah, perfect!  Well, roosters crow and crow and crow.  Once one rooster crows, they all crow down the line and once you think they'll stop, the first one pipes up again.  It's like the midnight bark from 101 Dalmations, but way more annoying and without puppies.

I also learned that I am really, REALLY, REALLY bad about returning phone calls, even worse than my emails.  Voicemail is like mayo, no one should have created it, no one should use, and its really gross at the bottom of the sink.  BUT, I promise to be more responsive and in a more timely manner.  In line with that, I am trying to make my new app YAP work.  It is supposed to transfer evil voicemails into text messages.  Its brilliant if it works.

I also learned that something really amazing about Jazz.  A lot of moms talk about how when they lay down, the baby wakes up and starts grooving.  Well, that happens for horses as well.  And just like the humans I know who talk to their unborn children, so does Jazz.  Almost every time Jazz laid down in the last month of her pregnancy she would nicker to her foal who was prancing around in her belly.  It was the lowest, sweetest nicker I've ever heard Jazz make.  This nightly ritual was so private and intimate that I felt like an intruder. 

The last thing I learned what that regular wash rack showers are no fun

Luckily, I am home again, home again, jiggity, jig.  Gran Jefe and Jazz are both doing very well and I am getting back to my regularly scheduled life.

Make plans to come see our new addition before one of his adoring fans decides to make him their own!

WORD!