But the thing is that despite the inconveniences of morning sickness and first trimester exhaustion, my life doesn't change much when I'm pregnant, at least not for quite a while. I don't drink alcohol and don't eat most of the forbidden foods. The cat boxes have been
Last time it was at 27 weeks, on the day when I first started experiencing the joy of pubic bone pain. We had gone to Sears to buy a garage door opener and after buying it,
This time, it's hitting me a bit earlier. I've been caught in a mental tug of war over my work schedule lately. I really want to start going to church more, which means I need to schedule fewer Sundays. But that means working more Fridays, which I'm starting to hate because I have to get up early and work a full day at the library, then go home and work another four hours. Last week, I treated myself to a sick day from the online job so I would be able to go home from work and be done, and oh, it was heavenly. This week, I was regretting that a bit because I'm actually sick, but it would start to look rather suspicious if I started taking serial sick days right before every weekend. I was thinking about this last night, dreading the thought of going to work today, when I realized, Hello, you're pregnant. Maybe it's a bit much to expect myself to be able to work 14 hour days. And the fact that I'm dreading the weekends and feeling like they're slowly killing me is probably a good sign that perhaps my body, busily engaged in growing an entire human being, has enough on its plate without being abused further.
Apparently pregnant women need extra rest. Shocking, no?
In any case, I've decided to try and minimize my Friday shifts, even if that means working more Sundays (Saturdays are problematic given that
I've been thinking a lot about how next year is going to go in terms of work and child-wrangling. I've more or less come to the conclusion that I'm going to give up the online job (although I'm holding off on saying anything about that because
I was incredibly and pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the public preschool we applied and got waitlisted for last year, saying that all I had to do to get considered for this year is fill out a short update form. Since age is given first priority, it shouldn't be a problem to get K in this time, and I'm so happy not to have to fill out another gigantic, byzantine government form (especially given that it's tax season). I had been mildly panicking over what to do with K this summer, given that we can't afford her daycare if I'm not working and when I have a newborn is when I'll want her out of my hair the most, when I discovered that the city rec center closest to us has a summer day camp for children 4-10, which K will be just in time. Every day from 9-2, incredibly cheap - my dream come true.