Is It Too Late To Re-Think This Whole "3rd Baby Thing?"

Just yesterday my girlfriend sent me this link to a horrifically hilarious post on what it's really like to have three kids. It came on the heels of a photo she sent me only a week before, of what I can only assume was one couple's well-styled attempt at a Christmas Card picture with three small children. Let's just say one of them was hanging upside down and I'm not telling which one. 
I think she's trying to prepare me and I have to admit it made me laugh. Hard. Uncomfortably so, because there are moments every single day when I think we're downright insane for having a third baby, but I laugh nonetheless. Why? Because it helps me feel less... terrified. 
After all, what were the boys doing when she texted me said article? They were playing swimming pool in the dog's water bowl. An act that they both know is forbidden but they insist on doing it any way and they've worn me down so low that all I can think now is, "it's just water. It won't kill them and at least I can drink my cup of coffee while its still hot."
I'm not scared about having the baby or what to do with the baby. I mean, by now, I have all of that down pat. I do my hair and makeup and show up on a pre-appointed date to have my insides rearranged and a baby pulled from somewhere within. The following six to eight weeks are a nightmare of little to no sleep and nipples that hurt like hell, all the while trying to stuff my floppy parts into clothes that make my floppy parts seem not so floppy. The truth? That's the easy stuff. I'm not at all worried about that. 
What worries me the most is how I'm going to keep my other two heathens alive during the process. I mean, I can hardly handle them now and it's a miracle that we make it to bath time each day without someone running away or requiring stitches. Go ahead and laugh but I'm about as serious as a heart attack. 
My youngest is a climber and a lock opener. Each of these in their single-ness wouldn't necessarily be so bad- I could handle the climber, perhaps by duct-taping him to the floor or putting those cute little exercise ankle weights on his legs. As for the lock-opener, I could easily dissuade his attempts by hiding any and all lock-picking tools and any tools that could be mistaken for lock-picking tools and be done with it. But a lock-opening climber with a penchant for letting himself out the sliding glass door? It's like the trifecta of Why Mommy Drinks In The Morning. 
My oldest, well, he just follows suit. Sensitive and kind, he knows he's supposed to listen to the House Rules but when he sees his little brother running a mok, he's all balls to the wall not caring one iota about those rules. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander, " is his life motto.  In fact, I'm fairly certain I've caught him acting as a step stool for his younger brother so as to aid him in his attempts at escaping the madness.  
I get it, guys. Believe me, there are many days when I would like to run away, too.
Like the day not too long ago when I realized that all children will eventually have to turn three and a half. Did you know this, too? I don't know why I hadn't thought about it sooner. I wish I could go back in time and slap myself silly for thinking that two and a half was shortening my life. I would have grasped my delusional self's face in my two hands, shook it vigorously all the while muttering a string of curse words and "just wait's." 
This means that Maclane will eventually have to turn three and a half and so will baby number three and they will have done so at just the right time when I would breathe a sigh of relief and think "Whew. We survived."
Motherhood is a bitch. 
I know it's possible to have three kids and not suck at life and I'm not the first mother to ever have three kids and not know what to do with one, or two of them at any given moment. Who worries about leaving one behind or how terribly these childhood moments will haunt them later in life.  Deep down somewhere inside of me there is a tiny, quiet voice that reassures me, "You'll be okay. You can do this."
It's just really hard to hear that voice over the constant din of life with two little boys. I have to guess that the voice will become all together non-existent when we add the third into the mix in just a few short months. 
But I have to remind myself that because I care, because I'm worried about how each of them may require therapy later in life, that deep down, I'm a good mom and we'll all be just fine. 
We will survive and if we don't? It will certainly make for a good story... one day.