also good for finding submarines

Big day, yesterday - Andy and I went to the hospital in London to have our 20 week scan. And we found out the sex! It's a...

...Boy! Hooray! Well, of course I wasn't fussed either way, but it's very nice to know. His name is Rowan Michael Barnes, or will be in October. He can be a historian with a name like RM Barnes, or an artist with a name like Rowan, or a statesman or top publisher or author as Rowan Barnes, and when he's a teenager he can be called Ro which is sort of cool. I think I will nickname him Rowan Berry Boo Boo. And he will love me forever.

It was a bit nerve wracking as we had to have three scans, since the lady couldn't find the stomach at first. Babies drink aminotic fluid and wee it out (then drink it again, gross) so we had to wait until his stomach filled up. Was all fine in the end, phew.

But I was SO tired in the evening! I haven't felt that wiped out for ages. A sign of things to come, perhaps... still managed to clear my email and sign off a couple of cover proofs. I am invincible - but you knew that already.

And last night, once we knew the sex, Andy and I did what all excited new and forthcoming parents do: registered the child's domain name. Er, right? Everyone does that, yes? Andy commented that in the old days you'd register your son's name at Eton once you knew the sex. I much prefer our way. www.rowanbarnes.com currently points to Snowbooks' homepage, but I'll build a site eventually.

Today amongst the paperwork and the bits and bobs I may, just may, glance at some baby clothes. It is quite shocking how gender stereotyping works in kids' clothes - boys are all sailors and combat trousrs, girls are all fairy princesses and frills. There's a site called Vertbaudet.co.uk which gives you the option of buying for your little princess or for mummy's little soldier. For god's sake! I'm afraid it's cream and green for you, son. And no bloody guns.

//update - oh, and by the way, this is not an invite to comment negatively on the name Rowan! If you don't like it, or have narky comments to make, do keep it to yourself. My tolerance for well-meaning advice is already at zero... //