You'll hear it here first

Our, or rather, No.9's anatomay scan is this afternoon. This is the last big scan (from here, it's just scans for fun at the obstetricians) to check that everything is absolutely tickety-boo with the little troll, and we have ourselves a happy, healthy baby, growing well and doing exactly what it should be doing ... kidneys functioning properly, heart looking like it should, brain measuring fabulously, baby isn't maintaining the gargantuan proportions of our 12 week scan ...

And, I want to see bits. As does the husband. Or, at least, I'm not caring so much about seeing them as someone telling me what they are. So convinced is the husband that No.9 is a girl, I think I'm going to be watching his face veeeery carefully when said bits are identified on the basis that if there's a penis, I'll hopefully have time to kick a chair under him before he faints. Me? I'm inclined to follow the husband's instinct simply because I have absolutely none, so I'll probably be surprised if it's a boy too truth be told. We'll see though.

Of course, the chances are now that it'll have its legs firmly crossed just to wind us up, we'll have to chase it around my uterus to try and make it do cartwheels, and come out of it none the wiser for all that, but still.

Anyway, the list of people who want and need to know is enormous, and I was going to send a text message to everyone until I realised how many text messages that would be, so here's the deal - you'll hear it here first. The scan is 3.30pm, so allowing say an hour for the scan (I can't remember how long the last one took, but I'm sure it wasn't more than an hour), and half an hour to get home (yeah, right. Half an hour to get home on the Southern Motorway at 4.30pm? *snigger*), I will post what news there is as soon as I've walked in the door, the dogs have finished leaping all over me, and the cat has flicked her tail dismissively in my direction because her favourite blanket is still not available to slumber on (which is completely not my fault by the way - SHE puked on it. She also puked on our quilt. And then on the duvet after I'd removed the quilt. And on the curtains in the end room (which is actually quite clever) and probably several other places I haven't discovered yet. In this weather. When you can't get a thing dry, let alone several things. ... furball season is the best).

But, after all that, it'll be right here. I promise. With either a 'It's a girl!' Or a, 'It's a boy!' or a 'It's still a blardy mystery!'.

Catch ya later.