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.