- birthday breakfast for running/former-missionary/college son (happy birthday!)
- arrival at office when I said I'd be there
- numerous items on the long, long list of shit I had to do
- leaving my office on time so that I could make a luncheon appointment
- leaving my luncheon appointment so that I could shop for two baby gifts for the two (2) new grandchildren who have recently arrived in our family (hooray for babies!)
- expert shopping, so that I could arrive home by 3, so that
- running/former-missionary/college son could take my car to his first interim class meeting at 3:30 p.m.
- packaging up the baby gifts so we could go visit the babies
- visiting the babies, one at home, one at the hospital
- arriving home in time to watch The Closer.
In an example of the crack timing I executed today, let me say that I shopped like a ninja. I was in and out of that Target with two baby jammies and two baby blankets, two festive gift bags, coordinating tissue paper, and a copy of In Style, like it was my job. My ninja job.
In a break from the ninja work, we held two beautiful tiny babies. One of the babies was at home, with her sisters milling around and talking about the Christmas tree (Us: What do you want for Christmas? One of the baby's sisters: I forgot. Us: How about an orange? Sister: . . . or a banana? Us: how about both? Sister: [shrug]); the other, brand new, was still with his mother at the hospital, where it was quiet, even hushed.
Holding a baby is the opposite of ninja work. Holding a baby is the antidote for the suspicion that you might be rushing around just a little too much.