These are the days of our lives.

I had an awful night's sleep. I hate this! The sleep deprivation has to be one of the very worst parts of being pregnant. Because, why mother nature, why?? I posted a little something about this on FB already but I just need to warn mothers of one that the raunchy end of pregnancy stage happens earlier with each pregnancy. When I was pregnant with my first I was happy as a clam up until the very end. Honestly I was uncomfortable and crampy and beached-whalish but I was in no huge rush to get her here. And I was pleasant to be around. I mean I went down on a week long family retreat with Jason's whole side of the family to Bryan Head 2 weeks before giving birth, and went hiking while we were there. I'm 8 weeks from my due date and would I do that now? Not a chance. Not if I care if any of them like me anymore. And I happen to like them, a lot. So I do care.

With my second I started to get what I like to call anery (anery= angry + ornery) about 3 weeks before she was born. Those last two weeks I was really done with being pregnant, but then it turned out she was almost a full 2 pounds bigger than my first, so it's no wonder.

This pregnancy I am anery already, and the aneryness not going anywhere. Like I said, 8 weeks left. Wish my husband luck. It's been hard on me this round. Really really hard. I have been fatigued out of my mind. 24 hours a day. And I collapse into a coma every night at 8:30 pm. I'll lay there awake for an hour or so, just paralyzed, able to only dart my eyes around the room if my husband happens to come in to talk to me.

I think it has to do with getting roundhouse kicked and head butted all over my body (belly included) all day long every day by mini people. They are both going through super clingy-mom stages and they fight over my lap every time I sit down. And every time I stand up and try to walk anywhere, I have two legs for each of them to cling to. But it's weird, ya know. I think they sense the presence of another sibling drawing near, because Lucy was super clingy to me right before I had Scarlett, too.

But Scarlett will be sitting content on her dad's lap, until Lucy comes in the room. And she'll see her sister coming and frantically start climbing down from her dad, all the while saying, "No way... Mama... No way... Mama," and torpeedo over to me on the other couch, just as Lucy will start charging towards me from across the room. Then they will both dive on top of each other, on top of me, give me several nice pile drives to the face and belly, yelling at each other all the while. This happened just the other morning. And of course, I am angelically patient and reassure both of them of my unconditional love for them individually, and that, "You don't need to compete for my attention, beautiful little ones. There's enough of Mama to go around. 30 pounds extra enough in fact," with a serene smile. And then we sing a few rounds of that loveable Barney's, "I love you, you love me," together.

And then I try to do my pregnancy yoga, and this ensues instead. I may or may not do the Tarzan Gorilla yell/ chest beating 12 to 15 times a day on average. But it's a good Tarzan yell/chest beating.

Then there's my husband. Oh Yason. Poor... poor yiddow Yason. We had a conversation last night about the possibility of him having to go to North Carolina in May on business instead of this month. May 16th. 11 days after our due date. And he said, "It will just be better for the company to postpone the trip til May." And for some reason I was so tired that was all we said about it. Then I tossed and turned all night, chewing him out in my head that he would consider leaving out of town so soon after his wife having a baby. I thought about how he told me so nonchalantly that he might have to go in May instead. And then I had an epiphany. It occured to me that I don't think he knows we're expecting another baby. I think that he thinks I've just put on a few pounds and that I have indigestion. I think when he sees me with a new baby in my arms, he's gonna be like, "Oh my word, she's so cute! Who's is she?" And then when I'll say, "She's mine." And he'll have look of utter horror and shock on his face. And then I'll follow up with, "And I named her Jason... after her father," as the way of letting him know she is his also. And then joyful tears will fill his eyes and he'll say, "What?!?? I'm a Daddy?? How did this happen?" And I'll just be nodding my head, smiling all the while looking up at him. "I tried to tell you honey, I tried to let you know... like when we went to the doctor together and saw her on the ultrasound... or how I've had an enormous belly for some time now... I mean there's lots of ways I've tried to tell you but it just never came out right..."

That's the only reasonable conclusion I came to as to how he could think it was okay to go out of town and leave me with our 3 kiddies all by myself so soon after giving birth. And this morning when we talked it/hugged it all out (I feel much better now), and I told him, "Ya know, I stood over your side of the bed and stared at you for a good long while at 4:30 AM, debating whether or not I should wake you or not because I needed to talk to you about this so urgently," his only response was, "Did you have a butcher knife in your hand?" Poor, poor Yason.

*I know there are plenty of women who give birth without the support of the fathers, plenty of women who mother without husbands, women who send their husbands off to war and have babies while they're gone, etc. (These are things my husband points out to me during discussions like this). But we're talking about what's relevant in our marriage, and if there is a choice of whether he can go this month or right after we welcome a new baby, I'd rather him be around during the latter. I don't pretend to have it bad or to be picked on. And as a general rule I am against these types of clarifications but will just say it anyway.*

I also did tell him that he has no right to complain about any kind of physical discomfort until I'm well recovered from having this baby. Considering if there is 8 weeks left of this pregnancy and then about a month to follow if things go well, that's three months of holding his peace. It's just that he strained something in his elbow during a church basketball game FIVE weeks ago and still has a gimpy T-Rex arm because of it. So we'll be hauling boxes or some other manual labor job and I'll be wondering why I'm the major work force behind the task. And then I'll look up at him and he'll just sortof point to his T-Rex arm and shrug his shoulders. Or if one of our daughters need to be carried up stairs or hauled around elsewhere, he'll be like, "Sorry, I can't, I got this bad arm." The point is, I just can't take it anymore. I have shooting pains up my back and abdomen with every move I make. And I am a hot sweaty panting mess every time I walk up the stairs, hauling only me, myself and I. So I told him it has to stop. Told him we were moving on from that stage of our life, the stage where he's "injured". And I made him a doctor's appointment.

Sometimes I don't know how that husband of mine juggles it all being married to me. And by sometimes, I mean, I wonder that every day. My mom has this funny way of saying things that regular people find offensive, but tries to turn them into compliments. And the thing is, she really is innocent in what she's doing, so there's really no offense ever taken. She was in town a couple weeks ago and said to me, "Meradith! I have never seen your buns SO round and SOOO full! They look so good!" And I'm like, "Mom, you know how that could be taken, right?" and we laughed it off. Except then I caught a glimpse of the old derriere in the mirror and did a double take. So I had to text husband a picture of my rear end, right then and there while he was at work. I think it was especially unfavorable because I was in the unflattering type of maternity jeans with no back pockets. And I said, "How many more pounds would you say this rump is packing than usual?" And after a few moments, he texted back a very generic, very safe, "I'd say it's lookin' pretty good!!" And I was satisfied. Where would we be if he didn't find me sortof amusing in all of my hefty splendor? Even when I don't feel amused or amusing at all.

Okay. Let me tell you about a couple other things that are adding to my general state of aneryness as of late. Some things in life just chap me, like the folllowing:

-Our white trash fridge. Something is wrong with our refrigerator. It vibrates and hums on and off all day long. And this humming vibration is ridiculously loud. And I keep telling Jason we need to have a fridge guy come look at it. And then he's like, "No we don't, you just have to punch it and then it's fixed." And then he stands up and walks over to the fridge and sucker punches it. And the humming vibration stops. And he feels good about himself. And I feel like we are 100% dub-T. Yeah, you're right... it says right here in the owners manual, "in case refrigerator starts making a loud humming vibration that drives you to near insanity, as in, you have to turn the volume up on your TV to be able to hear the show you're watching while in the next room, what you'll want to do when it starts up is square your shoulders to the appliance and give it a right hook.

-Angelina Jolie quote I stumbled across. This is what she said in an interview while she was pregnant with twins. "Pregnancy is great for the sex life. It just makes you a lot more creative. So you have fun, and as a woman you're just so round and full." Angelina, I don't hate you because you're beautiful, I hate you because you're a liar. And you want to make normal women feel like there is something wrong with them. I want to expound on this quote, but feel inappropriate doing so as a Christian woman. But last time I checked, having a huge round belly makes everything in life awkward. Period.

A couple of other things that don't chap me at all, but in fact positively elate me:

-Jason performing princess karaoke songs with his 6 year old niece for his two other nieces and two daughters. "Reflection" from Mulan was particularly touching because it includes lyrics like, "I'll never be the perfect daughter, I'll never be the perfect bride." This makes him the coolest uncle on the planet. And the coolest dad. And allowing me to post this after much pleading makes him the best/coolest husband.

-And, last but not least, Lucy's original compositions. This might be more for grandparents and aunts and uncles, but every night when we go to bed she asks me to sing her a song and then halfway through interrupts me and tells me, "sing me that song that Jesus taught me." So I have to tell her I don't know which song she means, and so she has to sing it for me. Each time it's different, she's become the queen of improvising and her lyrics as you will see are quite profound and moving. And then when she's done, she asks me to sing it back to her. When I can't, she gets all haughty with her superior musical skills. Because the song is too hard for mommy. So, here goes nothin', for your listening enjoyment.

I think Mozart was doing about the same at 3 years old. We expect big things in her future.

And that's a wrap folks! Stay tuned for more. As in, I want you to sit at your computer and stare at our blog until I update again. Loves!