To this...
Matt and I unofficially measured J (via the measuring tape from matt's tool kit) at 26 inches today (from 20.5 at birth). Yes, the jailhouse PJs are for reference. Granted that Whitaker takes the beefeater award, but maybe it's just because I'm a new mom, or maybe we're just growing a basketball player (Matt would prefer volleyball)...but we've got a weed. Half the world tells me J is puny, the other half tells me he's a giant. Matt says that means he's average. Either way, he's a great time. He sat up for the first time the other night on his own...we were sitting there at work, J was in a tv trance, and I look over and he's just sitting up on his own. It's somewhat surreal watching this creature learning life.Warning cheesy mom moment: Sometimes I'll just hold him after he's asleep and just kinda sit in awe. It amazes me that his mere existence gives me joy. I put that into the greater scope of how my mom looks at me, even God, and it blows my mind that they just enjoy me for being alive. Sans the black bleach-splattered sweatpants, grouchy mornings, and primarily unkempt hair...it's turning out to be a good thing, this motherhood bit.
