Last minute as usual and my eyes are killing me. Luckily there’s stuff on TV so I don’t have to entertain myself at the computron all night. Hooray.

This week mother did the grandmotherly thing and bought us a buggy / stroller / pushchair / whatever. I haven’t seen it yet (itsa one of these looking things apparently), but since my list of requirements was “it has to be maneuverable”, I probably can’t be too fussy. Reviews for it… well, I tend to overdo the review thing, so we’ll wait and see. And possibly test on the cats.

Amusingly, mother was getting all clucky over prams and capsules and stuff (meanwhile Karen is all ‘does it have a coffee-holder?’) . I never pictured her as particularly grandmotherly – she’s not a stereotypical mother either – but I think she’ll do it well. The spawn will have more grandmothers than it knows what to do with actually: three from my side and one from Sam’s. Which is a pretty awesome accomplishment, considering some people never even know one. Like Sam! He’s making up for it now though; he loves my Gramma and she spoils him rotten. Everyone knows who the favourite is!

I am KEEPING WELL. Like cheese. Alien is wiggly, although I am discovering that is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it’s untold fun watching your belly writhe and pulsate, but a curse because when it has a quiet day, you start to worry about the lack of pulsation. And I tend towards more quiet times, since the placenta is kind of in the way of more obvious wrigglage. I am possibly guilty of occasional belly-pokage to see if I can get a response.

Oh, and 24 weeks is kind of a milestone. Should the alien decide to hatch now, intervention is likely, and its chances of survival start at 60%. Of course this won’t be happening. STAY.