I felt little Leroy move for the first time today. Actually, he was kicking the bejesus out of me – but he’s too little for it to hurt. Not that I blame him. I’d been ignoring my steadily growling stomach for over an hour. He was probably like, “Hey, Mom, could ya go get something to eat already? I’m going deaf in here!”
Yep. At -5 months old, he’s already being demanding. Must be my baby. Lord knows I’m no peach.
Although I’m told that pregnancy makes me a much nicer person. Seriously. When I first announced my news here at work, I quickly followed it up with an apology for being so grouchy and sick and miserable to be around.
To which my cube-mate replied, “Actually, I think you’ve been a lot nicer lately. You haven’t told me how you much you hate the world in weeks!”
And, as I blushed furiously, all the other writers agreed.
I have to admit, I do feel pretty darn good these days. All contented and mellow and glow-y. It’s positively unnatural.
All those extra hormones floating around must be drowning out my natural nastiness. I guess I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. If genetics are any predictor, I’ll get back in touch with my inner grump soon enough.