a couple of weeks I will go on maternity leave.
My mood, already strained by the overproduction of hormones, only goes up and down in an evening that leaves me exhausted. On the one hand there is the unknown of the damn "what will happen to me" I'm glad to have some other month sabbatical that interrupts the daily routine and give me also, and finally, the possibility to enjoy not only the unborn child but also my baby, my little star, too often raised by other people not me.
For a project contract, however the same period amounts to months of economic insecurity which put an end, fought a bloody question: how and with what heart frugoletto leave, maybe even breast-feed or maybe it's a bit frail or maybe it's just still young, to return to smadonnare in traffic and spend hours in the office doing the countdown, that separates you from re-embrace the beloved.
What a fucking life ...
And how many posts and blogs that tell the same story.
However I would like to publicly apologize all my loved ones, friends and colleagues to be frequently irritable. I feel very Dorian Gray. From the viewpoint that only a radiant pregnancy can give you a hiding myself horribly that says bad words, screams, yells, and-alas-Citic sfancula very nochalance all those who make mistakes, a stronzissima Miss Rottermaier ready to blame for a ' ounces of salt in most of the water for pasta or a fax number written down wrong.
I apologize and if there is enough ... ... annnateveneaffan
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