I have a confession to make. I'm a huge worrier. I know, big shock, right? Anyway, I've been so worried lately about all the junk that's happening with our jobs right now. As you already know, my job is being outsourced. I still don't agree with the company's decision, but I've made my peace. Nothing is set in stone, but I think I'll have roughly until April or May before I'm severanced. If you read my husband's blog at all, you'll have seen that his job is also being affected by the current economy. Needless to say, it has been very stressful on both of us. I have never before been so grateful for a husband who doesn't want to fight about money. That's one thing we have going for us, I guess.
So, of course I'm worried about how we'll make ends meet when we have our baby. I'm worried because I know I'll probably have to work full time (well, I definitely will at least until I'm laid off), and it'll be so hard to take my little guy to day care every day. But I know I can do it because I have to. Besides, I know so many other mothers who have done the same thing and have just as much devotion to their children as I know I will have to mine. So I know it's possible, and I will live through it.
I'm worried the most about my husband, actually. I'm worried about all the pressure that is being placed on him to make more money. I hate it. I don't want him to have to get a job he doesn't like. I don't want him to be unhappy. That, in itself, stresses me to no end. I know that he'll do what he has to do for our family, but I hate the stress that comes with making those decisions. We make big decisions together, but this is about a job that I wouldn't have to go to every day and he would. And he would probably hate it. So I would feel guilty if I encouraged him to take a job he hated, but I would also feel guilty for forcing him to make the decision alone. And I would feel guilty if I discouraged him from taking the job, and then nothing else came along. Am I not ridiculous? Yes, I tend to be that way from time to time.
On a lighter note, let's talk about something else my dear, sweet husband did this weekend. He peed in my shower. I was minding my own business, shaving my legs in the shower, and here's Chris, just popping in for a pee! Okay, well, he did tease me that he was going to do it before hand, but I didn't think he actually would!! And thank goodness none of it got on me, because, oh! that would have definitely been tragic. But it's a good thing (for him) I was so grossed out because I later thought that I should have splashed his pee back on him. But blech. I couldn't have touched it.
And I know you've been waiting for it: My fat at 26 weeks.
Please forgive the super crappy picture. I didn't notice just how bad it was until I had already taken it off the memory card, and I'm way too lazy to do a retake. But feel free to compare to same shirt at 19 weeks.