Starring Tula

Call me Mother of the Year.

Tula is looking at me from her kick-and-wave groove on the floor and reminding me that babies get equal billing. And the last few blogs have centered on her big brother. She's right, and so I'm focusing on her today. There is much to tell.

First of all, we are quite the advanced baby. She is already picking her head up and, at ten weeks, perfecting the art of tummy time. She must be the only infant I've ever see to prefer being on her stomach to being on her back. Could this be a breech thing? Also, we're obsessed with kick and wave. It does make diaper changes interesting as the changing table is her favorite place to get her groove on. She has Boomer and Peanut firmly wrapped around her little finger. She's working on me, but since I perfected the art of wrapping Papa around my finger years ago, I think I'm immune to her powers. She is awfully cute though.

We went to her two-month checkup yesterday and I'm amazed the nurses and her doctor can still hear. For the record, Tula is ten pounds, thirteen ounces and 22 inches tall. Judging by the echo in the room after her shots, she also has a healthy set of lungs. And no volume control whatsoever. Like her mother. She survived, though, and so did I. I realize that the shots are necessary and the pain is both minor and temporary, but there's not much worse than watching your child look at you, eyes full of tears, and knowing that she trusts you to keep her from hurting. I may be immune to being wrapped around her finger, but there is nothing keeping me from that guilt trip.

However, life is good again. Tula is sharing the spotlight with Peanut, Mommy is here with them, and there is kick and wave- with Doggy Luke just out of reach. Ladies and gentlemen, we have contentment. For all of us.

Call me Mother of the Year.

Peanut Plus Technology Equals Trouble

Call me Mother of the Year.

I must be the only mommy who must hide both the laptop and the camera from the four-year-old. Peanut has discovered not only the joys of his Lightning McQueen laptop but also the fun of seeing himself through the webcam on my laptop. This is when I point out that Mommy's Laptop Is Not A Toy. We're still working on this.

Peanut, being an enterprising little soul, found that the webcam was not quite enough. He was playing with the mouse and discovered by accident how to make a movie. I'm not sure if he realizes what he's done, but the ensuing video of my small son making faces at the webcam is priceless. I wonder if I can save this for when he has children?

Peanut also has a mighty interest in cameras. He stopped dead in his tracks during the Halloween parade in an effort to see the pictures I was taking. I suppose then I shouldn't be surprised by the discovery of the pictures he took with my camera. I am, however, surprised by the quality of some of the shots.

So now I'm hiding the camera and carefully watching my son's activities around my computer. Who knows, though. I may have the next Ansel Adams here. Or Steven Spielberg. Either way, my retirement is set.

Call me Mother of the Year.

The Baby Is Not A Toy

Call me Mother of the Year.

Does anyone else have this problem? My four-year-old is convinced that I birthed a new plaything strictly for his entertainment.

After the Halloween sugar high, I was going for a mellow morning before preschool. And then I looked at Peanut's class snack calendar. Sure enough, today is Peanut's day to bring snack. Did I remember this as I got groceries on Friday? No, I did not. So I got Tula strapped into her car seat and the ensuing look of death, poured Peanut into his booster seat, and hurried off to the store to try and beat the school bus. I succeeded. Both kids behaved beautifully and Tula fell asleep. Much rejoicing.

When we got home, I set Tula and car seat on the floor as I figured she'd need to eat and there was no point in pulling her out until she woke up. Normally, this is within five minutes of leaving the car. She slept longer, which wasn't a problem. I came out to check on the kids, and found that Peanut had pulled Tula and car seat to the couch, pulled the sun shade over her, and had her blanket over her face. Tula slept through all of this. I had to explain to Peanut as the bus pulled into our driveway that we do not play with Tula as she sleeps in the car seat. Tula is not a toy. I hope the message got through, but I have my doubts.

I suppose I should be grateful- heaven knows Peanut will come up with more complicated ways than this to use his sister for amusement. I won't be able to take my eyes off him for a second. Never mind- already there. And now I need to remind Boomer that the only reason he's laughing is because it didn't happen to him. That'd be more effective if I'd quit laughing myself.

Call me Mother of the Year.