And I'm back to the Western Themed Blog Titles. Woot. Woot.

I loved that show. Growing up, it was on in the mornings I think? Anyways, I could not get enough of Bonanza and that young little cutie of a cowboy that I think is the same guy from Boondock Saints. Another favorite.

Ugh. Today is totally another one of those days that I could just complain about being tired! In fact, laundry is totally calling my name from downstairs, but I have not found the energy to get off this couch. In fact, the idea of surfing the web all morning has crossed my mind several times already....

What do I do with my kids, you ask?

To that I would say shut up and mind your own business. They're just fine.

Just kidding. I wouldn't actually say shut up. And they really are fine. This morning is one of those rare mornings where they like each other and are playing quietly, alone in their room without needing mommy at all.

Quick somebody knock on wood.

Actually I don't think that will help. Sooner or later one of them is going to come flying out of there screaming me a sob story whilst(Do you like that?) the other one cries loudly in the room, left behind.

But for now. It's glorious.

This baby is moving constantly. This little man. He wakes me up in the night. All day long I feel him flopping over and kicking me and pushing on my sides. He doesn't stop moving.

If this was my first born, I would simply marvel at the miracle of life. Wow. There is a real person in there.

But since this is my third, I can have the proper, normal emotions a functioning human being should have.

It's weird. Straight weird. There is a person inside of me, hidden in my stomach, (Or not so hidden in my case) that won't stop performing gymnastics and one day is going to traumatize my hoo ha, come flying out and then become another responsibility.

Sounds awesome right?

I've totally decided I should become a Sex-Ed teacher. I think I could really figure out a way to scare those horny little teenagers into abstinence.

Hey if I can make it work with Salad Master, scaring people into making a decision, surely having a baby is just that much easier!

Ok, but hear who I really am, and know this is all a joke. I am really not that jaded about having another baby. We are very excited. But I'm not going to lie, the constant cart-wheeling and flip-flopping has me very, very, very, very nervous.

Third child is supposed to be laid back and go with the flow. If this child is even half of what Scarlett is to my life I predict a Nervous Breakdown in my very near future! And what if he's more of a handful!

Oh Jesus, Save me.

It's a terrifying thought. Me, losing all control, the children uprising against us and taking over completely. I'm totally that mom you come to visit and my house is utterly destroyed, I haven't showered in weeks, my hair is all crazy at epic proportions and I'm wearing the same outfit I came home from the hospital in years before, my eyes are glazed over and there is dribble of drool running from the corner of my mouth down to my chin.

Not a pretty picture. Those Dance Moms would FOR SURE excommunicate me then. There is only a certain type of crazy allowed at Dance, and "certifiably" is not on the list.

Nervous Breakdown looming or not there are a few things I am certain nudge me in that direction with every pregnancy.

First is my feet. Ok, I know all pregnant woman's feet grow, but most shrink back. Mine? Of course not. And I started out with a size 10! I know. I have huge feet. And hands. I was really supposed to be like 6 feet, but I was introduced to caffeine at a young age.

Speaking of which. I just had to take a 15 minute break to deal with laundry, appease my children and finally make myself a homemade iced coffee. Which are the best! First they're wayyy cheaper, you can make a big one without feeling guilty for basically paying four dollars for ice, I believe they're healthier for you more than say oh Starbucks, and there's unlimited refills.

Plus it was a much needed remedy to my ever-drooping eyes.....

So anyways. Back to my feet. That continue to grow! It's not fair. This is my third child. My feet should have reached their maximum growth back in puberty, wasn't that bad enough? But oh no. Here I am mid-twenties(I know. Cringe.) and I'm still trying to figure out my shoe sizes. I can basically sit down with a bowl of Popcorn(Stove-top, not microwave anymore. It's been one of those sacrifices I don't like....) and watch the damn things expand.

Pretty soon my blogs are going to go something more like Fee Fie Foe Fum and I'm going to be driving a car reminiscent of the Flintstones. Seriously, we're past an 11. AN 11!!!! that's just not fair. They don't even make cute shoes in size 11. They're the big clunky ones you imagine weird home-schoolers and old crabby teachers in. I even try to lie to myself. All the time. I try to trick my body into thinking my feet are smaller than they are. On Sunday I was bound and determined to wear these cute pair of black pumps, but by the end of the day, my feet were cut an blistered and I could barely walk around the grocery store, it was more like an old-person shuffle.

Next, my hair. My poor, poor hair. As if my hair aside from pregnancy wasn't bad enough. What we've got going on now, thanks to pregnancy hormones and the fact that I refuse to cut it...., is something like a mixture of Carrot Top the comedian(If you can really call him a comedian....) and an African Lion. It's all I can do to just maintain the natural disaster on the top of my head, let alone make it look good...... I keep getting tips from well-meaning friends and family. I'll hear something like, "Oh you know what you should do, you should put red highlights in it." Or, "You should totally dye it blonde." Or, my personal favorite, "Have you ever tried to get it professionally straightened?"

Um. First of all, highlighting and dying are not going to solve any problems here. If anything they will probably make it worse, because my hair absorbs dye like a sponge. Seriously. Last time I tried dying my hair, it was half this length and took four and a half boxes of dye. That's not an exaggeration. Just the truth. Second of all, straightening my hair will fix nothing. If anything and if you've seen it, straight hair on me looks worse. Not to mention the fact that I have a horse blanket of hair on my head and even if you were to straighten it, the volume and height I have going on is enough for young children to be frightened of.

I remember when I was pregnant with Stella, I was actually afraid of losing my curl. Like that was a real possibility for my life. And then when I was pregnant with Scarlett, I got a hair cut. Not just any hair cut. I got like all of my hair cut off. The lady, as good of a recommendation as I got for her, had no idea how to cut curly hair. Which is actually what I've found out at every single salon I've ever gone to. I think a curly haired person should go into the biz and open a salon for just curly haired people. We're like the abused minority of hair.

And now with the Little Guy, I don't even know whats going on with these frizzy dread-locks. All I do know, is that my hair alone is enough to say this is it! This is the last baby......

Enough about hair though. I swear sometimes it seems as though I'm obsessed, doesn't it? Yikes.

Here I am. Literally barefoot and pregnant, although I'm currently mentally calculating where my slippers are because my toes are cold, which I think makes it worse! But sitting, in our house, worrying about this ADD baby in my stomach, complaining about life and planning Stella's homeschool lesson today. Who am I?

No seriously. What happened to my identity. Part of me feels like I'm already 26 and the other part of me is freaking out because I'm only 26, on my third child with this whole grown up life thing going on around me. I feel under-prepared.

I look around at our life here. A real house. A nice house. A house, we honestly didn't see ourselves getting for years, with the possibility of never having to move again. A nice car. Actually a really nice car. Another event I never saw happening. Hey I was totally happy praying myself from point A to point B. It totally taught me a healthy reliance on God. (I know you think I'm kidding right now..... But am I?) Children. Real children. Three of them. A real job. One that shockingly I kind of like and am kind of good at and that brings in actual money. Not to mention Zach's whole career success(Although I doubt he would describe it in such the optimistic tone...) and I look around and try to figure out how we got here.

What happened to no responsibility and boozing it up? What happened to staying up all night and sleeping in late? What happened to a life without a realization of consequences?

Who knows. I think I prefer this happy little life that we have. I mean I know I do. We're so blessed.

It just all seemed to hit me, all at once. Suddenly I have a third child cooking, a real job(kind of.), a new car and a new house all in the same week. Which, trust me, I never, ever, ever, ever recommend doing all at once like we did...... But all the same here we are. And I'm still trying to catch up and catch my breath.

But I suppose life doesn't slow down. It just speeds up, uncontrollably down this free fall we call life.

Ok enough pretending to be deep and wax philosopher. Circumstances or not, let's all try to remember I'm still the vapid, shallow, confused, half-grown up I've always been!

And that means I need to stop blogging and go fight a war. That's right I'm in a war. It's me against a legion of fruit flies and and this horrible-old-musty-smell we've got going on in this house. If only Bath and Body made a combination candle of citronella and an actual good smell, my life would be So much easier!


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