It'll do

Last night, while preparing for a big day today, I was frantically trying to get these programs made for our naming ceremony for Baby A. Since we aren't practicing Catholics anymore, and I'm not crazy about the state of the Roman Catholic church's handling of sexual abuse of children anyway, we aren't baptizing her. But we have guardians chosen and it is still nice to officially welcome a new child into her families. So we are doing our own ceremony. Short, hopefully not to corny, but still symbolic in some ways. I think it will be nice.

But there I was trying to get my new version of iPhoto on the Mac to hurry the hell up and load photos of her so I could use the cool card template to make an amazing (and oh so stylish) program. Yeah, well, this new version of iPhoto hasn't been playing nice with all our old photos. It may take until the next decade for this software to actually do whatever precious conversions of old photos it keeps assuring me I need. Whatever, iPhoto, you're bumming me out.

So there I was, getting more frustrated, feeling the time pinch of having to get to bed soon, Baby A's intestines decided that last night was the night to either get constipated or have loads of gas and the poor thing was screaming and writhing on the bed, us not being able to help much.

I'm running around the kitchen trying to get the cumin (I think) seeds boiled and strained to make a warm tea (in case it is gas), and soak the prunes in boiling water and then mash them up to make prune juice (in case it is constipation).

I'm thinking about how we'll even do damage control to those crib sheets (and walls, and floors) if she isn't actually constipated and I just fed her two whole prunes.

I'm cursing under my breath at the Mac and restarting the whole computer.

And finally, she settles on M's chest and then asks to go to her crib. We put some loose clothes on her and she drifts off to sleep.

I go back to the desktop, inhale, exhale. Blink blink. I open MS Word, pop one photo of Baby A I have from the desktop to the document. Put the text in, print out a bunch of copies, and I'm done.

Good enough, yo. That's all that it needs to be. And I get to go to sleep, instead of feeling that sinking "I'm not even 1/4 done yet" feeling I used to get at the beginning of a long night, way behind on my thesis writing in that last month. Phew.

Oh, and I'm happy to say, there will be no baby-poo Spilled Milk #4 photo. No explosion from the diaper area last night.