Number Three

Man, I'm a bad blogger.

I have found myself using my new condition to get out of everything.

Prego.

Again.

At first I was embarrassed.

And, everyone asks: "Oh, was this planned?"

Red cheeks,

"No."

I had actually donated the rest of our baby stuff just three weeks before the positive pregnancy test.

And then the ever so tacky question,

"Were you on anything?"

Burning face,

"No."

"Oh."

Okay, people... We had a quicky 10 minutes before our three year old's birthday party. It wasn't planned and nothing was used. I peaked at the calendar later and gulped, did the sign of the cross, and I prayed that five minutes didn't change this life, a life we are finally enjoying after having the first two just fourteen months apart.

Is that too much information?

TMI?

Well, they asked.

So this life has changed. A life of the perfect four where two car seats fit in the back of our little Subaru sedan. A life where you yell "Okay gang- get your shoes on!"...and they do on the days they're in a cooperative mood. Life where you can go through drive through and there are four holes in the cardboard cup holder that they hand you.

So many people try and try for a baby with no luck.

Surely we would be safe.

No.

But alas, no complaints here.

This is a good thing. I was kind of getting bored with the kids being able to dress themselves and helping themselves to snacks. And sleep? I'll just sleep when I'm dead like "they" say.

This is a good thing.

It's a second chance, third, I mean, to enjoy a baby.

I know by experience how fast babyhood goes by, how fast they are suddenly walking, and how fast they are suddenly off to pre-school, waving with a little Thomas the Train backpack attached to them.

I am going to savor every moment of it.

"They" are right. It's amazing what difference a day makes...or five minutes.

-C