We shall kick off with a photo, now I is looking more pregnanty and less fat persony. Taken at Thames, where the mirror is cooler and does not reflect a huge box of books on the floor and a big pile of clothes and baby junk on a chair behind me. >.> No rude comments please.

I almost managed to get my leave forms sorted this week, except I didn’t. I need some certificate saying I’m not wearing a fake belly so I get a slight reprieve until then. Which I’m fine with, because I’m still not 100% sure when to take the leave and such. 14 weeks is SFA time really, and if I take leave too early and spawn arrives late, there’s less time at home with it before I need to get back to work.

I still haven’t had the talk with the boss guys yet either. I’m sure they’ll be very sweet and accommodating and so forth when it comes to hours and working from home etc, but I think I’ll feel a lot better once we get some agreement there. I can’t help but feel like a giant leech though. “HAI! I work here not long! Lemme stay homes, K?!”

Anyway, we asked Dad (who ‘works’ from home about 15 minutes away) if he’d be cool caring for the spawn a day a week or sommat like that. He wiped away a tear and said he’d be honoured, and we all had hugs and pie. Or no! That happened in the alternate reality where I’m not me and Dad’s not Dad. Instead he said he’d bring it to Thames, hook it up on a harness and wire contraption so it could entertain itself (with a flying fox dealy for sailing over “ravines and gullies”) and it could sleep in a cardboard box. Ohoho the hilarities!

I think we’ll manage. We’re just not at all keen on shoving the spawn into care 2 seconds after it’s born – not if I can in any way wrangle less impersonal arrangements (and yes, even if it means less $$$). Probably the outcome of having stay at home mothers ourselves.

I’m starting to feel a bit slack about not having like… nappies, and a cot, and bath shiz and all that good stuff that comes with spawning. After being asked a few times over the weekend what we had and if we were checking off a list, I figure we probably better get our As in G and get this stuff sorted before I get even more bloated and irascible. So Iunno. Maybe this weekend I’ll start looking into stuff other than adorable tiny clothings.

Parents are useful though! Continuing the documenting of stuff people have contributed to the spawn pile this week (I have to do this or I’ll forget who and when):

The torture-device looking baby carrier is courtesy of mother. We had untold fun trying to figure out how the internal paddingy bits work, and what all the domes are for. In the end I shoved the bear in because APPARENTLY I’m not allowed to test it on the cats. Unreasonable. It’s a… Evenflo something doodah.

Giraffe is from Diane. It rattles! Rattling I’m generally OK with. Anyone gives me anything that squeaks or bangs or whistles, we shall have words.

I’m fine, just heartburny and tired and starting to pant like a seriously out of shape person on embarrassingly easy walks. Spawn is wiggling like a mofo currently and I wish my lappytop would hurry up so I can decamp to the couch or the bed, or something where I can get more comfortable and not be kicked around for daring to sit for more than 10 minutes.

But since I have finished this now, I can go lie down and quiet the internal protests. Early this week. Woohoo!