I've been on the phone with various members of my family for most of the day. Trying to coordinate travel plans seems destined to fail, and of course everyone has their own "special" way to get from Lawrence to DC. Presumably there's some kind of underground railroad of which I was previously unaware.

I get to go to Switzerland for Christmas! Well, the beginning of December. If any of you need cuckoo clocks, I'm your woman.

( My dear husband )

I'm amazed you can fit into those jeans, Bobby. You must be losing weight.

Dylan and Beth are both great. Beth's a bit bored without school, though. Any ideas of good Projects for a nine year old?

LAYER ONE: On the Outside
Name: Dr. Nicole Kelly
Birth date: January 10th, 1963
Birthplace: Lawrence, Kansas
Current Location: Washington DC
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Height: 5'5
Righty or Lefty: Righty
Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

( Read more... )

"Liquid virgin tightening lubricant" -- get your designer vagina from a handy and colorful squeeze bottle. Is it bad that I saw this and thought of JP? Does it work on other orifices? Why am I even asking these questions?

I think I may have to cite Dylan as the co-author of the book I'm writing. He is definitely a wonderfully patient and optimistic discussion partner. I suspect his first word may be either "Spider-Man" or "tracheotomy", though.

Sorry for not getting on here much. We've been a little preoccupied with our own little Superbaby lately. It still isn't even his due date yet - it's a little odd to think that I could still be pregnant now, when he's happily splashing about in the bath with Dad.

We're scheduling his baptism and the accompanying barbecue for early next month. Jamie, Ian, and my family are traveling from Kansas, work schedules allowing, so it should be good fun.

I'm still embarrassingly tired, and I already have otherwise-interesting work offers on my desk. I would still like to go to Europe to lecture, but that would mean leaving Bobby with the kids, which maybe isn't such a good idea.

Is it Christmas yet?

I know it's in vogue to give birth and then immediately start training for a triathlon or, at the very least, head down to the beach in a g-string bikini to show the world you've lost all that irritating baby weight.

However, I decided to start a new trend - eat a lot of chocolate, and then sleep for most of a week. 9/10 doctors recommend it.

So... the state of the Kelly household:

Dylan likes elephants, baths, and waking everyone up a few times a night.

Beth is irritated that her brother is less interested in Spider-Man than she thought he might be, and keeps waking her up (she does now have earplugs).

Bobby has been pretty good at manning the fort. And he's 46 today. He seems to be celebrating by pulling a pillow over his head and pretending the world doesn't exist.

So. How are you all doing?

Don't forget - dinner tonight!

Bored with this, now. Out you come, Dylan.

*waits*

*waits some more*

I think the problem with this may be that Dylan doesn't know that his name is Dylan.

With the fantastic neverdecaf. Backdated to Saturday night.

Part of her is debating the odds of whether Beth would patiently wait for them for an hour or so, if she led Ianto upstairs now. Another part is reminding her that Beth will have to go to bed long before Bobby returns from the White House. A third part is pointing out, with a sigh, that slowly probably did not mean screwing on the couch as soon as humanly possible.

Thank you for the flowers Rachel and Jean-Paul. You're both getting cookies or something appropriately maternal when I next see you both. And thanks for all the well-wishes.

Wow. Two months to go. July 16th still seems a long way away. I am beginning to suspect that this kid is less of a sea monkey and more of a whale. Wouldn't it be so much more convenient if we just laid eggs in an aquarium and watched him grow there for nine months?

And, of course, now I get an invitation to go and lecture in Switzerland. Switzerland! I maintain this is all my dear husband's fault. If there were a next time, I swear he'd have to do the seahorse thing.

Ianto, I think one of your cameras is wonky. Or perhaps I have terrorists lingering in a rosebush. Anything is possible.

Rachel, can you dance?

Jean-Paul, I have a paintbrush with your name on it, young man.

I must now do something wild and decadent like, oh, watching more of Mike and Draco's Horatio Hornblower DVDs.

Mmmm.

My husband gives surprisingly good massages.


[locked to Bobby]

I'll see you in the shower, Aquaman.

RP with the awesome neverdecaf. Takes place last Sunday while Rachel and Robert are on Genosha.

( Sundays always seemed to go so much more smoothly in Kansas... )

I'm told by a certain educational graphic that DJK can now open and close his eyes.

...does anyone else imagine the Bacta Tank from The Empire Strikes Back at this point?

I think I'm regressing to infancy - Beth and I have been watching cartoons all morning. Now I sort of want to play with action figures.

HELP!

Something we can never show Beth, because she'd want one (but it is pretty cool).

Pregnancy tips. So now I know. But what's the problem with monkey brains?

...Dylan now has eyelashes.

That is all.

Is there some kind of agency for hiring out cute male nannies who also double as trained assassins?

If my husband can keep hiring impossibly good-looking people and then sleeping with them, I should be able to as well.

Bobby's back at work. I seem to be on some kind of enforced maternity leave as the hospital thinks it's better for me to take a break after that tiny little international incident caused by my husband being shot and there being men with machine guns in my kitchen. Ordinarily I'd object, but seriously... I have a home to put back together, and a child to look after, not to mention the ever-expanding bowling ball I'm carrying around with me. I used to have a bladder. I'm sure I left it around here somewhere...

On the plus side, while Bobby was off having fun in Seattle, Ian took me out shopping. Therapy! Oddly enough it's very easy to find appropriate clothing for a small child with a water mutant for a father. Niche market much?

( Cuteness! )

Honestly, my husband is the most irritating man in the world when he's sick. Which is to say, he's getting better.

Mike. You work in mysterious ways, young man.

Good luck with the solo, Jeanne-Marie. I'm so sorry we can't make it this year.

[locked to JP]

Jean-Paul, we want Beth to be able to go back to school tomorrow. Hanging around the hospital isn't good for her. On the other hand... what do you think? Going to school might be worse.

Also, what's happening with our house? We'd like to go home one day.

Bobby's awake.

If I wasn't so exhausted I'd be dancing around and singing, but... He's awake. He's talking. He's going to be okay.

He has a pretty nasty bullet wound to his left shoulder. A couple of inches, and... Well. Thank you, John. The wound in itself wouldn't normally be very complicated, but Bobby's body is, unfortunately, extremely complicated. He lost a lot of blood before the paramedics got to him, and, when he's asleep or unconscious, he can't stop his body from gradually turning to liquid. This, needless to say, is not conducive to stitches, staples, or any other way we can think of to close up the wound and stop the bleeding.

At the moment he's stable but dehydrated (at least in his "dry" form), which is making him very uncomfortable as you imagine. Bobby has this crazy idea that, if we give him water, he can just dissolve and reform and be as good as new. I'd like to agree, but I'm not so sure I readily believe in things he thinks were told to him while he was unconscious in some kind of desert of memories (Mike, I have a bone to pick with you!). We might have to go with it, though. We can't keep him awake forever, and we can't starve him of water for the time it would take his body to knit back together. So. We'll see.

But let's concentrate on the positive. He's awake. He's him. We were so worried about brain damage, and he seems to be fine. He's been asking for you, Mr. Beaubier, and you, Mr. Allerdyce. And, John, Beth really wants to give you a big hug for saving her Daddy. She's already grabbed most of the surgical team.

Rachel, he wanted me to tell you that he's sorry he couldn't make it to Seattle this weekend, but he'll be there as soon as he can, and he'll call as soon as the "medical tyrants" here allow him to have a phone. And he loves you.

More later. Jamie and Beth are sitting with Bobby, and Dylan and I really have to get some sleep.

Bobby's out of surgery. He hasn't woken up yet. We're still not sure if he's OK. He lost a lot of blood. We're still not sure if he'll wake up, if he'll be him at all if he does.

It's late. We're tired. Beth's still in her pyjamas from this morning. Jamie's bruised from when they arrested him (and, to arrest Jamie, you really need to do some damage). I'm exhausted and scared and I should sleep for Dylan's sake, but... Bobby. God. I just need him to wake up.

At least we can hold his hand, now. We can talk to him. Beth's given him her Spiderman doll to hug.

Thank you for the gifts, Kara. We really appreciate it.

More later, if I can.

Bobby is not going to die.

But if he does...

I've been feeling terrible the last few days, and the doctor in me knows it's mostly stress, it's mostly my mind doing it to myself. I'm scared. Bobby's scared. I actually have plans in case my husband dies. Real plans. And they had to be made, for Beth, for Dylan. I can't just stop existing if the worst happens. I can't just hide in bed and cry forever. I feel like doing it now, just to get in some practice.

I wonder if Dylan feels how tense I am. I wonder if he gets scared, too, with all this fight-or-flight adrenalin keeping me on edge.

If my husband dies, I will go to Kansas and live with Jamie and Ian until the baby is born. I will be a mess, but there will be people there to take care of me. Beth can go to school, and we will be very good at pretending that everything is normal.

Our son will never know his Dad, but Jamie will be a good father to him, and I will try not to hate Jamie for being alive when Bobby is dead. I will try not to see Bobby every time I look at Dylan. Even though his skin and his hair and his eyes may be different, I know it may be almost impossible not to.

Eventually - I suspect sooner rather than later - I will go to Genosha, and I will do something, and I will help, and I will tell myself that saving even one life is enough.

And if Bobby does not die... I will hold him as tightly as I do now, and never tell him about this future that I pray will never happen.