Pick-me-up.

I need a pick-me-up. Not a red bull. But honestly. I don't know how to face this day. And the absolute only things I have on the agenda are feeding my kids, and I also wanted to try to work in wallowing around in blankets on the floor. I mean, there is the eternal to-do list of my life which consists of gutting my house and redecorating, cleaning and organizing my closet, washing the all of the bedding in the entire house, and figuring out window treatments for our front room window and bedroom windows. But we did make kool-aide playdoh yesterday (which I'm fighting constantly the urge to eat) and I even did all of the laundry in the house yesterday, which does not mean in fact that it's done because I already did it yesterday, oh no no no, you're so silly! It only means today there will be a fresh stack of dirty laundry for me. But I refuse to be one of those people who do laundry every day. So really, the only things set in stone that I have to do today are feeding my babes and wallowing in blankets. That's it. And it's just too much. I just don't think mothers should have to mother while pregnant.

I did wake up and shower this morning first thing. Which never happens. And to be honest, the one and only reason I showered was because I literally could not remember the last time I did. No recollection of it whatsoever. My second trimesters of my previous two pregnancies have really been chipper and splendid. I feel great, have great energy, am glowing all over the place everywhere I go. Not this round. I have felt better after the nausea cleared but the fatigue has never lifted. What is with that. No energy for the question mark after that question.

Lucy was up in our bed at 3 AM. Had a bad dream. It's a heart wrenching little scene, her quaking little frame. So we snuggled for a while and I tried to slip out and go to another bed in the house once I was sure she was snoozing soundly next to eternally slumbering dad. But just as I was drifting off again, at about 3:40, it turns out she had sniffed me out. Because I hear her whisper yell, "Mom!!" from the doorway of the guestroom I'm now trying to sleep in. And then crawls up into bed with me in that bed too. It's not that the beds aren't big enough for us both, or for us all for that matter, it's more the fact that my children actually like to put me into the sleeper hold while sleeping next to me:

Pretend that muscle head with the bleached blonde hair is Lucy, and that's me on bottom there. Except there's no one refereeing. There's only darkness for me. P.S. WWE? What is wrong with people in this world??

SO anyway. At 3:45 AM I asked Lucy why she didn't stay in bed with dad and she just said, "Because I like mom better." So I agreed with her and starting listing all the reasons I am actually cooler than her dad. Just kidding. The point is, I finally drifted back to sleep around 5. 5 AM! And Scarlett is getting new teeth and coming down with her second round of headcold this season and therefore was awake at 6 AM, not her usual 7:30, yelling, "MOMMY!!!!!" from her crib. And I cried. And went and got her. And now I have a splitting headache and that achey all-nighter feeling. And every time I pick one of my girls up, I have rubber arms that wobble all over. Like I just did 170 push-ups. Actually, I did do 170 push-ups this morning come to think of it. No, no I didn't.

I think one of Jason's favorite things about being married to me is when (on rare occasion) I am sitting up in bed staring at his face in the wee hours of the break of dawn, waiting to unload on him as soon as he stirs slightly. So he started rolling around a quarter after 7 and I was ready. I had a good cathartic cry about how he's not allowed to stay up all night watching Jazz games he DVRs and the O'Reilly factor and then expect me to keep the kids away from him and let him sleep until 8:30, which has been happening lately. Unacceptable to lose sleep for leisure when you have a chronically exhausted pregnant wife. If he's up all night caring for a child or sick himself, I will keep the kids away and let him sleep in. But those are the only circumstances. And he sat there nodding. And he agreed with me. I think. At least he pretended to for the time. But there's a 50/50 chance he was still 100% asleep, with his eyes opened staring at me and nodding his head. There's a 50/50 chance he will have no recollection whatsoever of that little conversation. It's happened before. Full conversations, that he's an active participant in. He's slept through them. I might make my bets that he was still completely asleep.

And that brings us to now. The girls are sitting at the bar eating cereal. And I am sitting here in a bathrobe. Planning to be in this all day. This pregnancy has put me into a funk that I can't really compare to anything else. And the funk isn't going anywhere for a long time because I'm going to get more and more uncomfortable and fat and achey and then I'll have a new baby. I'm not complaining or whining. I'm just talking. Stating facts. Telling it like it is.

I went to dinner a few weeks ago with one of my best girlfriends. We like to go to dinner every couple months, just she and I, and we like to stay out late gossiping and telling each other funny stories about old boyfriends and having lots of suitors and back when we thought we were pretty hot. Except this dinner date was different. We were both fairly early in pregnancy. Both our third pregnancy. And it was like talking about old boyfriends and gossip was completely out of the question. What we talked about was how much weight we've already gained this pregnancy versus the others. And we talked about our gynos. And breast feeding. And then both started nodding off, nearly slamming our faces down into the plates in front of us, hurried to pay our tab by 9 pm and were home home and in bed by 9:30.

I honestly think I'm ready to throw in the towel. I'm ready to grow my hair into a nice fifties style mom bob, trade in our SUV for a minivan, and wear overalls every day for the rest of my life. I'm not even kidding. I'm ready to throw away all my make-up and sell my accessories and go into survival mode. And I really am pressuring Jason to make the mini-van thing happen before we have this baby. So be watching for me on the road. We really are getting one. I'll probably still spike my hair up. But we're getting the van.

The fifties style mom-bob isn't so bad, right?

So, now for the pick-me-up. I'm posting a couple things that make me laugh or that make me feel happy, because I'm just tired:

-This picture of my sister I found, slightly photoshopped and enhanced by moi:

I wish the curve in the window behind her wasn't a dead give away. Because if the curve wasn't there, you wouldn't even know I did anything to this picture, and you'd just be really creeped out by my uncle Festery sister.

-This shot of Jason and I about a month before we got engaged in Havasupai. I sortof look like a goofy kid sister, but he's just so rugged and handsome and tanned and toned. I have a big crush on him. I guess I'll have to get over him sleeping through my juggling acts of our children in the middle of the night. Psyche, I won't. But looking at these pics help him out. It also makes me happy that he's picking me up so effortlessly. Because I try to sit on his lap now and there's a lot of moaning and groaning and heavy breathing and wheezing. All those things sound totally pervy, but trust me, they're not meant in that way. Yes I still have over three months to bake this baby. AKA I'll be getting lots larger.

-Another shot of us pre-wed. Engaged. Stop being such a hussy Meradith! Stop crawling all over that man! You'll wind up pregnant the minute you're married! You'll end up pregnant three times in a row, rapid-fire! You just can't tell anything to fiancees. They're pretty annoying to the rest of the world actually. But I had a tan back then, too. That's the main point.

-This next picture was taken this morning. And it actually doesn't make me happy or laugh. It makes me batty. Scarlett pushes our barstools all around the kitchen and gets into everything. There is oatmeal spilled ALL over the floor. And that butcher knife I'm holding was recently apprehended from her hands. Or was I just sneaking up behind her with it? Guess you'll never know.

-Having a new baby. You'll get the point of this little clip in the first 20 seconds or so, but she was just too delectable for me to edit more. This clip sends my uterus into a twitching frenzy. And when I watch her noises and breathing and crumpled up little fists, I'll talk myself into committing to having 10 more babies. Which the thought of right now will send me into a loony bin, so I can't watch this again actually. This makes me tooooo excited to get this new baby sister into my arms.

-Scarlett's rat's nest hair every morning. Seriously. I have to find the R.O.U.S. that is furiously burrowing in her hair every single night while she sleeps.

And we'll end with this. Again, you get the point in the first 20 or 30 seconds. But this clip makes me over the moon with the fact that this baby we're waiting for is another little girl. I'm just too smitten over them.

Despite the fact that my voice in this last clip sounds annoyingly similar to Ruby's from "Max and Ruby", I feel a lot better. Life is beautiful. Deep breath. Life is really, really good.