Yup. So, that’s pretty much where I’ve been: getting knocked up and eating my bodyweight in cream cheese and white pizza. Fuck you, delicious cravings!Hello. I’m the Impractical Wife and now, the Vastly Impractical Pregnant Lady (I use lady very, very loosely here). Why loosely? Well, let’s just say this pregnancy has me doing some very un-ladylike things. Think along the lines of shoving a delicious, chocolate drizzled eclair into my face while driving and cutting the seam at the waist of my pants just now because it was annoying me. It’s super sexy shit.Anyhow, if you were wondering, this is baby number 3, it’s a boy (hurray!), I’m 35yrs old, and I’m kinda terrified. Why? Because I’m a different person. I’m not going to be the same kind of mom, maybe? I hope that I’ll be even better this go around. I hope I’ll sing more silly songs, I hope I’ll master the art of opening the baby wipes with my feet while I entertain the baby with tickles and nose boops like I did with my other boys. Mostly, I hope I can stay awake long enough that the dogs and goats aren’t raising this baby for me hahahaha. Although, this kid is definitely going to sit atop a goat at least for a picture, just saying.Phew! I’m tired. I’m feeling every one of my 35 years. I’ve mostly been in zombie mode balancing the pregnancy, both jobs, a biology class, and just partial, not half, assing my way through. So far, it’s mostly working. I’m healthy and the baby is doing well. Fingers crossed there wont be any complications and I’ll have a bouncing, well behaved, bundle of mud boy. I totally meant boy.Here’s a picture of me in all my pregnant glory for your enjoyment or lack there of.