You are probably thinking that I am a chancer and a scoundrel for reneging on my promise to post my final shortlist yesterday, but before my sloppiness necessitates a dodging of flung rotten tomatoes, can I just point out that I had a good excuse.
.................. my dog ate it. Ha ha! No he didn't really! That was just me amusing myself. In a public forum. And now I probably look like a nob. Although I wouldn't put it past Naughty George eating the shortlist if I left it lying around. Yeh, that was an attempt to vindicate myself by blaming my dog.
What really happened is that in the early hours of 21st January, I got a text from my heavily pregnant cousin, Jane (the one I spent New Year's Eve with), and it said:
"OMG. Been in labour since 9pm last night. Heavy stuff started around 1am. My waters broke and flooded the ward. I've just had the most intense three hours of pain ever. After two attempts at epidural I am now saved. 8cm dilated and not long now xxx"
Bloody hell! She was texting me whilst in the latter stages of labour. She must have the constitution of Attila the Hun.
Anyway, not long after her text, she was rushed into theatre for an emergency cesarean-section because the baby was in distress. I didn't know any of this until after the event, but all's well that ends well. Mitchell Owen was born at 7.12am, and mother and baby were fine. Well almost ...... shortly after her operation I received another text from Jane:
"Shit, I am in pain. I feel like a clubbed seal. Do you think you and Izzy may get to pop in for a visit? Would love to see you x"
So that is the reason why I couldn't do my top ten fave blogs shortlist. I was hot-footing it up to Loughborough to see my cousin and her new baby. And that's where I have been for the last couple of days. And, as you can imagine, I couldn't post because I was covered in plop and puke.
But because I am kind (Like Mother Theresa, except that I apply more make-up), I have got some photographs for you.
Pic.No.1. This is Mitchell just after he was born. He's gorgeous. He didn't even look like a skinned rabbit
Pic.No.2. This is my lovely cousin Jane holding a super-tiny Mitchell. Well not that tiny because he was a healthy 7lb 10oz at birth. But even so, he looks all cutely scrawny and cries like a lamb
Pic.No.3. The aneasthetic must have affected Jane somewhat, because this is the picture she took of me and Mitchell. I just don't look good all blurry and cut in half
Pic.No.4. I complained about the blurry cut-in-half picture, so she took another one. Which was also blurry although this time I wasn't cut in half. Don't you think the blur makes me look younger? And did you spot the dog in the bottom right-hand-side of the picture looking hungrily at the baby? That dog is called Roy.
Pic.No.5. This is Mitchell asleep on his Daddy's (aka Martin) chest. I love the way you can see his tiny feet poking out
I have to say, I was smitten by Mitchell, and Jane and Martin were completely natural parents.
Unlike me. Turn back the clock five years. When Izzy was first born, the midwife did an obligatory home visit and and said, quote; "you are holding that baby like a rugby ball."
As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, Naughty George had been ferreting around in the bins and had dug out an old soiled (and particularly ploppy) nappy of Izzys. He ran into the living room (where I was trying to impress the midwife) and proceeded to rag it manically around the room, spraying mouldy baby crap all over the place. It was all I could do to stop her from calling Social Services.
He's got a lot to answer for that dog.
So, what do you think of my new nephew, Mitchell?