A headache, not going to bed early last night (although Calendar Girls was worth watching), whiny children (one of whom cried that Daddy took all the leftovers for lunch), not being able to get teak oil at Home Depot, a long line at Lowes, a letter I thought I needed weighed at the post office that only really needed one stamp, grocery shopping, and more whining all before lunch, really brought Miss Crankypants back.

I have a month left to go, but I'm really tired of being pregnant. God definitely designed women to become more tired of pregnancy than they are afraid of dealing with a newborn. Even though I know that having a newborn, a two year old and a four year old is going to be taxing in the extreme -- the older two do a fine job of driving me crazy without adding a crying baby into the mix, I still want to be done. I want my fingers and ankles not to be swollen. I want my back to stop aching. I want to stop feeling like the bones of my pelvis are ripping themselves in two. I'm exhausted.

It's nine o'clock -- hours before I usually fall asleep, but as Miss Crankypants I'm declaring an early night and I hope to find that in the morning the world will seem a little happier and brighter -- even if I still will be tired, swollen, pregnant and surrounded by whining children.