Beautiful Boy Child Is Here!

I know.  I've been absent.  I've been absent, mind you, for the good of humankind, given that I've just spent the last month celebrating Christmas by drinking much festive wine, eating fried fish and lying on Cape beaches in such a splendid manner that I may have lost the ability, albeit momentarily, to form sentences with words exceeding two syllables.  It was great.  Can't wait to do it again.

And then I had a little inner pickle (not of the gherkin or onion variety): getting back on the blogging horse ain't no easy feat.  Especially when one's life has been characterised by moments of much hilarity in which one was cast as family/friend/mother/teacher idiot in most.

But today marks a special day.  Huge style.  Because The BF and Carlos have finally, after what seems to have been the longest pregnancy known to mankind (I am all but expecting to meet a muscly eighteen-year old with his legs and arms sprawled out of standard hospital issue cot), welcomed my third people into this world.

Halleluljah amen!  They're flipping rockstars, I tell you.  All three of them.

The bringing of the human child of (I believe) decisively boy persuasion into this world was not, as one would have hoped, as simple as opening the door and finding child on doorstep surrounded by the odd stork feather.  (This was a childhood story with which I battled to connect.  How effing unfair, I thought, it would be to not really want to extend one's family and the next minute an errant stork drops a bundle on your doorstep that may or may not look like the father and that's it - you're parents.)

I dealt with the most laborious labour of the century in the only way a best friend can: with a chilled bottle of Ernie Els and regular bbms to Carlos:

The Pant: (06h00)  Surely the baby is on the outside?

Carlos: (06h30)  Nought.

TP: (06h45)  And now?

Carlos:  (07h00)  Nought.

TP:  (07h15)  And now?

Carlos: (07h30)  Nought.  Please tell me you're going to work?

TP: (07h31)  Is the baby on the outside? 

Carlos: (07h32)  Nought.  GO TO WORK NOW.  AND STOP TEXTING ME.

TP: (07h33)  Okay.

TP: (07h34) Is the baby on the outside?

Carlos: (07h35) Die.


Finally, some fourteen of the most stressful hours later, I received the following text:

Carlos: (20h08) Beautiful Boy Child born.  Now I'm deleting you as a contact.

And, yes, I drank to that.

Congratulations my heart friends.  My heart swells with pride at your amazing feat yesterday.  Can't wait to meet your little guy.

Sorry, Carlos.