Before we get to the guts of this week, a couple of announcements. First, dad just sent me this link, proving he is a humorous guy. Also, I want someone to make me the Cthulhu baby outfit. This kind of thing only serves to encourage me.

Second, at the half way point we ordered the spawn its first toy. It has been delivered and is now revealed! See! Toy! Bop N Beep is one of the Uglydolls range, and awesomer than most things one finds in the baby toy aisle. Plus! Double sided OOO.

Now, on with the show

So apparently the alien can hear what’s going on outside its luxury digs. Ie, when I tell Sam I’m going to kill him for being annoying, alien is going “Hey cool! I know that voice! I love my mum!” This meets with my approval.

Helpful people who think about baby stuff a lot say things like “talk to your belly!” (uh huh – “Hi belly. You’re kinda… fat. CHUBBACHUBBA”) and “read to it now; babies suck more vigorously when they hear stories they heard in utero!” So we’re currently trying to think of stories to read to my big fat stomach, despite the fact I hate reading out loud cause my mouth slows my brain down. Guess I have to get used to it. Or get Sam to do it. Which also meets with my approval.

Sam’s first (not at all serious) suggestion was “how about something Stephen King” and his second was The Hobbit. While I did read my first SK novel (The Stand) at about age 8, I don’t think it’s on many ‘books to nurture your babies with’ lists. And much as I love me some Tolkien, I think repeatedly reading something shorter and less full of Gwalin Balin Dalin Thalin Michael Palin might result in me going insane later rather than sooner.

So I’ve been trying to think of books that I enjoyed when I was younger – leaving aside the Greek mythology for the time being, because that was something of an abnormal obsession for a primary school kid. I know I read an unhealthy amount of Enid Blyton (vacuous tripe mostly – I have no excuse), and the various books of my mother’s that seemed to revolve around morality tales of greedy children getting their come-uppance, or midnight feasts in boarding schools.

But I also read most of the books off the Official List of Childrens Classics, so I’ve decided that’s a good place to start.

I’m leaning towards the Alice stories because the surrealism and general weirdness makes me gleeful. I vastly prefer Looking Glass to Wonderland – it’s more weird, hasn’t been done to death and contains the most excellent Jabberwocky. But then there’s something to be said for the brothers Grimm and their not-so-sanitised fairy tales, with all the deaths and dismemberments and bad things happening to decent folk. I did briefly consider trying some kid-friendly A A Milne or Beatrix Potter, but it probably should be something that won’t put ME to sleep. And while I’m quite fond of Milne’s poems, the actual Winnie the Pooh stories are kind of dull. Except for Eeyore, who is awesome.

Yeh, so anyway. By the time I make a decision, it’ll be too late. Meanwhile, we’re perfectly happy just watching my stomach ripple like something out of a tacky 80s horror movie (you know, like it does right before it explodes in twitchy gobbets).

Final deep and meaningful reflection for this week:

Why is it, upon finding out about my ’state’, that everyone’s first question is “are you keeping well?” In exactly that way, as if I were cheese. “Why yes, thank you. I haven’t dried out and very little mould has formed on my exposed surfaces.”

Yes, I’m keeping well. I’m always well. I’ve always been well. I’ve never had anything serious wrong with me, and I seldom have anything even minor go wrong. It’s probably all being saved up for one really big whammy (woohoo!), but generally, I am a healthy person.

I’m not sure if this was all supposed to change the second I began incubating, but I’m starting to think I should have a more exciting answer than “Yeah… nah, no barfing, no cravings, no unforeseen weight loss, no exorbitant weight gain, no cramping, no bleeding, everything happening pretty much on schedule, as advertised. Sorry.” Maybe I should carry my Alien pictures with me at all times and be all “Well ACTUALLY…”

Muahaha.

So Neil Gaiman, one of my favourite authors, recently called for a vote. Which of his books should be offered free online to introduce new readers to his work (with the blessing of the Almighty Publisher, of course).

For those that know his works or care about random nerdstuff, these are the results. I’ve read most of the contenders (those that were easiest for me to get my hands on), and I’d probably have to agree with the outcome. American Gods isn’t necessarily my favourite, but it’s probably most worthy of ‘most people can comfortably start here’ status. It is a slightly surreal mythological yet present day mildly comedic fantasy dealy though – so if you don’t like that sort of thing, um, read it anyway. For the record, I think Stardust is probably my favourite (if we’re discounting joint works, otherwise Good Omens wins) – but I daresay TOO light and fantastical for the mainstream.

American Gods – go read it. Pity about the format, but FREE HEY FREE!

Then go read these. Then you can take a break.

Yeah… that’s not going to happen.

In the interests of seeing how prepared we are, given that we’re over half way and the ‘baby room’ (aka the spare room, aka Sam’s cave) is still full of crap, I decided to inventory what we have so far. You know, in case I forget why I’m getting fat and don’t buy anything else in the next 4 months. Plus, you know, I’m still earning moneys at the moment.

Basically we’ve picked up bits and pieces here and there, and with the latest round of final FINAL OMG FINAL sales on at the moment (Karen does not buy non-sale clothing), I thought I’d make sure I had enough to fill whatever random ‘essentials’ lists I happened to find on the intarweb. This apparently is called a ‘layette‘. Why? Who the heck knows, I’m just glad I don’t have to sew this stuff.

Initial inventory results suggest that as long as the kid doesn’t need to get around, sleep, go toilet or play with something not a cat or a Wii, we’re sweet.

At least it’ll be dressed.

The clothing inventory wasn’t as sad as I thought it would be. I haven’t overdone it so far, so I don’t feel like some crazy obsessed baby clothes collecting person. The pink’s mostly under control, and there are very few occurrences of frills and no lace. You’d think it’d be easy for me to avoid the overly girly stuff, seeing as how my wardrobe is essentially unadorned neutrals (yes, alright, black), but baby clothes are kinda cute. Tiny and cute. LIKE KITTENS. And we all know how Karen feels about kittens.

In deference to the fact we’re still semi-expecting it to pop out a boy (universe, sense of humour), I’m trying to keep my frilly pink clothes buying urges under control. Except if really really cute frilly pink stuff is on sale. Then all bets are off. Mostly though, we have greens and yellows and whites and browns, and generic animal stuff, and many stripes. One thing I am learning is that boy clothes have a lot more ‘personality’ than girl clothes – where the designers seem to all have been on permanent sugar highs and are unable to think beyond FLOWER BUTTERFLY HEART PRINCESS!1!! None of these things represent trends in clothing I particularly want to pursue. Kittens, bugs, food, ninjas: these are all acceptable alternatives.

Other things that are cool: hats or hoods with ears on.

This hat is awesome.

Things that will never be cool: those stupid stretchy headband things with some lame ruffled flower or bow jammed on top.

DON’T DO THIS. YOUR BABY HAS NO HAIR.

Also not cool: full priced baby clothes. If I think twice about spending $40 on one item of clothing for me, you better believe I won’t be spending it on something that might get worn five times before being outgrown. Still, I have great affection for the people who do buy the expensive stuff, cause then they sell it on Trade Me for much cheaper – meaning tightwads like me don’t have to knit clothes out of pre-loved plastic supermarket bags.

Frankly I think the selection is unnecessarily diverse (jeans aren’t actually that comfortable – comparatively speaking – when you’re a grown up, so why the heck do we think they will be when you’re tiny?!), prices are too high, and everything’s marketed to make you spend more to get the matchy matchy outfits. I’m sure the kid doesn’t care if it has yellow socks and a pink jumper – as long as it’s warm, dry, and nobody’s stuck a pin into it anywhere. Plus! Everything girly is too girly and everything boy-y is too boy-y. *much shaking of the crotchetty old lady fist*

I will end this week’s update with supporting visuals. Here is a picture of me as a bebe, and a picture of Dondon (who is 3 years younger) as a bebe. What do you notice? Aside from the fact I am way too cute? Multipurpose reusable bebe clothing with nary a butterfly or digger in sight! Bring back the days of old I say. Go velour! Go TARTAN!

PS. The alien is still there. It kicked me a good’un the other day and really freaked me out. It’s really not an ‘awwww’ moment – more a ‘holy freakin crap there’s something in me!’ moment. Thus endeth the lesson.

I had no idea Google could be used as a calculator / converter. Am I that unobservant? Did I miss the geek memo? It’s GOOGLE, I should have known better.

Try it. You can be all ‘8 ounces in grams’ which is extremely useful when every freakin American recipe you find online uses the stupid Imperial system. Or ‘1 nzd in dollars’, which will give you the exchange rate (dollars being shorthand for US DOLLARS, CURRENCY OF TEH WURLDS). Or like… ‘38 + 3’, cause sometimes you need a calculator for that sheet.

I hate to think how much time I’ve spent looking for online conversions when that was sitting RIGHT THERE. I must be getting old. Almost 12k days old according to the Googlies.

For something truly geeky, try this.

Which leaves us with a decision to make: does she now get the pink or the green with white dots?