Fuller has been home for one week now. He is still alive and hasn’t been dropped on his head. As the new parents, we are sufficiently sleep deprived. Yesterday I was so tired I was actually slurring my speech. Maybe that all means we are doing this right?
God has blessed me with great parents, tirelessly working to make sure we have food on the table and that I didn’t have to lift a finger to get it there. Daddy has been working on our jungle of a yard and now it looks more like a yard.
Tomorrow the family arrives for the baptism of Mr. Buckminster. I have already warned one sister that there could be time share problems with the other Grandma arriving in the afternoon and the expectation that the Auburn vs. Arkansas game be watched. Yet I think that no major problems will arise.
Right now Fuller is asleep in his little swing, content with a full belly. I should go back to sleep too. It is the whole “sleep when the baby sleeps” concept.

Yesterday was Daddy’s birthday. We will officially celebrate on Saturday when he is surrounded by his girls and his mother. But I was told that Fuller is the best present he could have gotten.
Happy Birthday Grandpa Fred!

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