I am fifteen weeks pregnant today.
I have gained 7 pounds.
I don't look the least bit pregnant, but I do look rather chubby. I'm having a hard time keeping my pants up because my waist is almost exactly the size of my hips and I'm used to relying on my hips to keep my pants in place.
I bought my first pair of fat pants this weekend because I was down to two pairs of pants I could still button. Thank god for Old Navy and thank god that the size 10s were still way too large.
I need to figure out a polite way to ask my mother not to buy me any more maternity clothes. The reason for this deserves and will get its very own post.
I sleep three hours a night. On Saturday night I slept 6 hours straight and felt like I had won the $462 million dollar jackpot.
I'm a clutz. I fell down the stairs twice this weekend and also knocked the milk out of the refrigerator so it exploded all over the floor. The useless cats didn't even wake up. Hello? Milk on the floor? You are cats, right?
I am having a lot of trouble with homonyms. I type do when I mean due and wood when I mean would. Maybe I am just on a quest to use more o's.
Over the weekend, I asked Chris how he felt about asking my brother and sister-in-law to be the guardians of our child, should the need arise, and he responded by shoving both hands down the back of his boxers to scratch his ass. Chris tends to avoid discussing unpleasant details, but this is the first time he has used the dry ass distraction method.
I think we have almost decided to find out the sex of the baby. We haven't actually said that to each other yet, but we have told other people that we are probably finding out, so I guess that means we decided.
I am having an insane craving for Twinkies. If I don't get a Twinkie soon, somebody is going to get hurt.