Does it all have to go to hell in a hand basket?

What's the deal?

I feel like I am falling apart. I look in the mirror and it is a sad sight looking back at me. I am one of the few blessed with pregnancy mask. I get dark colored pigment all over my face. It really does look like a mask. It's supposed to go away, but I still have a few spots left from my first pregnancy. They are right under my eye, just perfect to make you wonder from afar if I got makeup in the wrong place or what. Terrible.

Then my hair. Good lord, it needs serious help. I don't know if it is the pregnancy or what but my color was kaput less than 3 weeks after I had it done and I don't go in for another 2 weeks. AHHHH!!! Seeing all this gray is making me nuts and so self conscience.

And finally, this body of mine. I am so at the "Gee, she is really putting on weight" stage. I know I am going to regret saying this, but I wish my belly would just go ahead and pop out so I could look pregnant. I am still too small for maternity clothes, yet I am down to only a select few outfits that I can actually be comfortable in. I refuse to buy the "transition" clothes, as this will be our last and I don't really need any more clothes.

It also seems that I have become one of them. I think the outsiders "affectionately" call us the "Mommy Mafia". You know who I am talking about. They drive up in their SUV's full of kids, thanks to the wonders of carpool. After all of the kids pile out, they empty the car of the latest thing the school needs them to collect (old phone books, soup labels, boxtops, etc.). They are bogged down with all of that and then the healthy snack they bring for their child's class. They chat with the other mom's outside the classroom until they let the kids in. They run to the office to drop off forms. They attend the parent's club meeting. They volunteer to decorate a table and sell tickets for the Fashion Show luncheon, even though they know it is super competitive. They get suckered into decorating yet another table, but they don't have to sell the tickets for that one, thank goodness. They revel in the joy of getting 12 service hours out of one day :) They order their scrip for the week. They chat some more with the other moms.

When in the heck did this become my life? This was the life of other moms. Non-working moms.
I didn't do ANY of this last year when JJ was in public school. It's so different here. They suck you in. They make you feel welcome. They woo you with promises of easy ways to get those 50 service hours over with.

And strangely, I am fitting right in. Who would have thunk it??

Now, if I could only get my personal appearance together.....