Mother’s Day this year was fast approaching. It was a very special one for me because I was experiencing the joy of sharing that date with my own child. In addition, a new fondness, respect, and deeper love had developed for my own Mother because of the new experiences we were sharing.
I wanted to do something special. As many of you know, the time for upmost creativeness while having a three month old on your hip is somewhat limited. My Mom loves pictures. Loves. They are all over her home, her office, her Facebook page, and etched into her brain. She had mentioned her lack of Keegan photos (my son). This should be where an easy process steps in. But let me tell you what actually happened.
My best pics of Keegs are on Facebook and instagram. Most all of my pics are taken by my iPhone and iPad. I’m 29. What can I say? If my phone takes photos as good as my camera and also has editing software built right in and is most generally already right next to me…what else am I going to use?
We don’t have a home printer, which I know is commonplace for many. If we did, which we have before, the possibility of having toner, ink, and the correct photo paper all at the same time would be rare. So I hop onto my laptop and start saving pics. I’m on my Facebook page flipping through my very generically labeled albums. I’m on instagram finding the pics I didn’t load to Facebook. I’m on twitter. When did I find time to tweet 1000+ times? Then I remember the adorable pic my husband took and loaded, so I’m on his Facebook page. Who took that cute tickle pic a month ago…? Maybe my Mom…so I get over to her Facebook page. Our camera did make its way into the delivery room. Where’s that memory card? Have I uploaded these yet?
Blah. Three hours later, and we all know in mom world I’ve added a breastfeeding session in there and a trip to the bathroom-I’m ready to upload. I load all sixty-two photos. At least I try to. System stall on wal-Mart’s end. I’m hoping they all got on there and click to pick-up the next day. Later that night, I get an email that the pics won’t be ready on time. I stress, but decide I’ll just have to tell my Mom that I tried. Six hours later, another email arrives saying they’ll be available, just a little late. We pack up the kiddo, get to wal-mart, get our photos, and get on the road.
Did all my photos make it through this journey? Of course not. I remember the faulty upload. Whatever. Lucky for me, my Mom’s a gracious woman who is easily distracted by children. She never knew the difference. But for the eightieth time, we decided there had to be a better option. It’s 2012 for goodness sake.
I think, “Come on technology!”as I anxiously await Picsure.
picsure 