This is probably the equivalent of showing how hot dogs are made to most of you, but here’s a portion of the reporting/editing staff at the Journal Star on election night. It’s a High Holy Day of newspapers, a rare instance of free dinner (pizza) and daysiders struggling to make it to midnight.

But 180 degrees isn’t enough to cover everyone. The hard-working copy deskers are just out of frame, as is the sports department.

And though we can easily moan about election nights of yore, where not a desk was empty and the noise was twice as loud, it remains a remarkable machine unequaled by our TV brethren.

Kathryn Marie Wiens was born at 11:28 a.m. on April 8, 2013. She’s a lovely girl by all counts – 7 lbs., 12 oz. – and both mom and baby are doing great.

They will call her Kate.

That’s a good thing, too, since I had actually picked out The Who’s “It’s a Boy” on YouTube. A song from a crummy musical concept album is no way to begin your life.

Several new titles come bundled with this cute baby girl. Mom. Dad. Grandpa. Grandma. And uncle. I’ll be sharing that last honor with my brother Nick.

Finally, with my newsroom-addled mind on autopilot, I mistakenly scooped the competition (the new parents) by posting an early write-thru of this congratulations. You may have seen it disappear from this blog, Facebook and Twitter just before noon – but it was just a tardy attempt to swallow my excitement and let the subjects of this story make an announcement that comes by so rarely in a lifetime.

Forgive me if I’m not asleep at 12:30 a.m. Monday. My sister Rachel is having a baby.

Not this very second, no. Or is she? I have my cell phone ringer cranked in the other room, just in case. Firm instructions were given to my family weeks ago: Call. Day or night.

You know what? I better put it on my nightstand. Man wasn’t intended to wake to the pleasant sounds of wind chimes or celestial bells. This calls for a lion’s roar.

The kiddo was due on Easter Sunday but, mimicking his or her soon-to-be-uncle, has decided to be fashionably late. My sister was told to report to the hospital at 6 p.m. one week later to be induced. Some sort of drug with innocent name is to be administered at 4 a.m. Monday in an attempt to coax the kid into The Real World. The gender is top-secret.

This is obviously a big moment for the Gerik family. I’m the oldest, still falling asleep regularly on my sofa with the lights ablaze in my apartment. And my brother is just a few years out of college, slave to the deadline as he follows in my footsteps.

Rachel? She’s a teacher. Her husband’s a firefighter. They own a house.

And so the middle becomes first.