Week 8

Tomorrow I will be eight weeks pregnant with my first child. I've enjoyed other blogs I've read about pregnancy, so I thought I'd through my own hat into the ring. I figured eight weeks is about the right time to do it.

So why the title of this page? Because I seriously don't FEEL like someone's mom. I wear rock t-shirts, I wear Vans, I get stressed out with responsibility. Plus my plants are dying both inside and outside the house. I'll chalk that one up to my daily schedule:

6 a.m. Drag self out of bed.
7 a.m. Count pimples, apply cream.
8 a.m. Arrive late to work.
8:15 a.m. - 12 p.m. Work.
12 p.m. - 12:20 p.m. Sleep in my small office. Drool a little.
12:20 p.m. - 12:30 p.m. Quick lunch.
12:30 p.m. - 3 p.m. Count hours to freedom (a.k.a. "work").
3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Physical therapy, meetings, store, whatever.
5 p.m. - 7 p.m. Sleep.
7 p.m. - 7:15 p.m. Think about working out.
7:15 p.m. - 8 p.m. Exercise at the Y.
8 p.m. - 10 p.m. Fix dinner, eat dinner, eat snack, watch TV.
10 p.m. - 5 a.m. Hopefully I am unconscious between these times.
5 a.m. - ? Pee break!
? - 6 a.m. Loathing the impending alarm.

This schedule clearly illustrates why the house looks a mess and the plants are dying. Didn't imagine I'd spend this much time sleeping!

Speaking of which... it's nearly lunchtime, which means my noontime nap.

All this... and I'm keeping it secret from work. Wow. I wonder how much longer I can pull off the "I think I'm fighting off a cold" excuse.