Mel has been sulking outrageously, almost to the point where I want to send her back to London until Téa's term starts and we get them both back. She went to see Mom and Dad and only sulked there instead, running up the phone bill calling long distance. And I know she doesn't think it's fair that Carlton's here and Téa isn't, but Carlton's parents are also here and this is Téa's parents' last chance to really have her for a summer.

In the case of Ryan, I believe it's also his only chance. Once she's living with us I think Ivan will see her more often than her biological parents will, either one of them. Mel insists it's a good thing she isn't around her mother – I don't know, I can't say I've ever met the woman myself.

The baby, though, at least, is being wonderful. This icon is one of the best pictures of us that exists, thank you Mel.

First off, I have to remember that LiveJournal is not my baby book, my baby book is my baby book, I only feel like writing here so that I can share this all.

And second off, I'm fairly certain there are a few people who read this journal who don't read my sister's. Not many, admittedly, since most of my friends in my agerange also know my sister well enough to look there, but it still is notable that some people maybe missed this announcement.

My son was born at 10:04am on the 17^th. My son Graham Jonas Brandt ("Gremlin," thank you Ezra, it stuck so tightly we chose Graham Jonas over Jonas Graham for the G-sound) was, in fact, born on his duedate. It shocked the hospital when they asked me when he was actually due and I said, "oh, today." I went into labor at around 6 or so, and it was much shorter than I'd expected. I'm sure it felt like a very long time for Mel and Carlton and Jaime and my parents – and if anyone else was there, I'm sorry, I hate to say "I didn't notice you," but I wasn't in much of a state to!

He's perfect and he's beautiful and I just can't keep going on about my boy because I can't find the right words.

I can find the right word for Carlton Lindale, though, and that's "amazing." Because Gremlin and Mel and I now have this home. It's also partially Carlton's home whenever he wants it, and Toni's, and Jaime's. And I wouldn't be surprised if Téa moves in after finding out that of course she's been accepted into – I think it was NYU? I'm sorry, girls, I can't recall – so there's ample room for her. Mel's room is certainly spacious enough to handle the two of them, and it's already been named the Room with a View.

We haven't left the Village, so neither of us are far from work, not that I'm working yet. But we've got so much space in this apartment! Four bedrooms! An actual guest room! This is something I haven't had since Larchmont.

The house, I have no pictures of. The boy, I even have an icon of, thanks to Mel, who is of course already doing photoshoots. He's twelve days old today and has lost most of the hair he had as a very wee one, but considering the darkness of my hair we don't really doubt that it'll grow in brown or black as well.

Of course, his father is a mystery. But a mystery that will never be solved, because I don't want to know who it came from. I wish my family would stop asking if I'll let him know his biological father someday. Of course I won't. Sperm banks are designed like that. Sure, you can pick the traits you want genetically to a limited degree so as to not cause any horrible clashes – which is most important to racist families, I think – but sperm donors give up all legal rights, and all parental anything, really. So, no, I won't be doing that.

I may be finished with things to say now, but even if I'm not Gremlin wants to be fed and duty calls.

Well, now I know.

I can't help knowing, the same way Mel can't help asking. As much as I don't want to know, as much as I wanted to surprise her and me – but it's been five months and I can't help it any longer, unfortunately. Mel is going to get grabby at some point and find out, I'm sure, but so far I've been managing to elude her by being on the other side of water, pretty much.

(Keeping private entries is nice. I kept a diary when I was a little girl – this is easier. I can't exactly lose it if it's typed and squirreled away on the Internet.)

And I need to start thinking of names.

Actually, that's a lie – I think I have one I like, but it sounds terribly funny with my surname, is the trouble.

... the thought I just had is not going to even get typed out. Not even for a second. I'm sorry, no, self, but that is inappropriate even for something that supposedly no one else is going to read at any given point. Not that many of my thoughts have been appropriate, recently.

I love being pregnant, but I think I should like it to end soon, and then I find myself wondering how Bianca's doing, a month and change behind me. She was getting sick, last I heard.

Poor thing.

I hate this case.

I hate this case, and I don't hate things lightly. I miss my sister and I hate this case. I miss living with someone, I come home and cry by myself and have nobody to talk my day out with.

I don't just miss my sister, though, really, I miss living with a lot of people. I miss Toni. I even miss the others; Ryan and Carlton and Bianca and Vaughn and Ezra. I miss their dog. I never thought I'd become attached to someone else's family, but somehow Ivan has, and Mel has, and so I might as well, too.

But I hate this case, and being pregnant is just making this one harder.

my mother hasn't eaten Carlton yet.

Melquiades is in trouble.

I doubt she's surprised.