a bird's nest: Walk, Ride, Rub, Repeat.

If for whatever reason we didn’t have the 4^th of July, the 24^th would suffice, for celebratory reasons of course. Out yonder, we have what’s called Pioneer Day. I’m quite sure I blog about it every year, but just for redundancy’s sake here’s the recap: July 24^th is the day dedicated to commemorate the trek of the Mormon Pioneers who came to Utah in 1847. So basically, it’s the 4^th of July disguised in wagons and costumed pioneers. And I love it all the same. I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really care what the holiday is, but give me a parade and some fireworks and I’m pretty content. I’m glad I live in a town with a Christmas light parade to tide me over. (Disclaimer: I love the 4^th for all the right reasons; patriotism, freedom, and gratitude of sacrifice.)

I took a chance, and participated in the 4^th parade without incident and decided to go at it again and walk in the 24^th one as well (I do it for the candy, folks). I got more cheers of support for being for pathetic pregnant lady hustling to keep up with her float than anything else. Truth be told, I feel great and I’m a little insulted when people are so shocked that I am as active as I am. Do I come across as the fat lazy prego chick of the community? ‘Cause someone please tell me if I am! I’ve been told I do a little more than the average 8 month-er. Brent and I still do our nightly bike rides, I’m still teaching ~~chasing crazed children~~, I can still ride my horses with minor assistance dismounting and I’ve even been known to walk in a parade or two. We’ve also been playing on our community softball league, but Lilly and I have been demoted to score keeper. Apparently big pregnant ladies and fly balls don’t go well together. So now we just cheer for the cutest pitcher on the team. And as long as my hubby keeps up with the foot rubs, I’ll try to keep up with him.

Need I say it, but I LOVE BEING PREGNANT. I can honestly say that I have yet to experience most of the horrors I’ve been warned about. My feet don’t swell (can’t say the same for the boobs), I don’t get cravings, the bird is healthy and active, and I have the most amazing support system. I realize I have another 8 weeks to go, (is that it…8 weeks?? Ek…) but I’m gearing down for the possibility that my next pregnancy will most likely be a nightmare due to the perfection of this one. Y’all can rub it in then; I’ll eat crow respectfully.

Speaking of the bird, at my doctor’s appointment today she measured in at 37 weeks. That’s medically a full term baby ladies and gents. So while my body says I’m only 32 weeks along, little miss tweet tweet thinks it’s ok to be the size of an albatross when she comes out. Not cool Lilly Bird, not cool. I’m keeping the legs crossed for another 8 weeks until I’m good and ready for her arrival whether she likes it or not.

Until then, I have a birthday to celebrate, a camping trip to plan, and couple of boys to attend to.

Life is good.