My baby is getting huge. I don't mean that in the typical pinch-your-cheeks-oh-my-you're-getting-so-big fashion. I mean, literally. She's huge. At her 2 month checkup she weighed 12 pounds 4 ounces and was 24 inches long. Now, for those of you who know me, I'm not quite 5 feet tall. So... yeah. She's almost half my height at 2 months old. I'll let myself out...
Here we are now, and she's almost THREE months old. What is this lunacy?! She's laughing and babbling and trying so hard to roll over. She's drooling buckets and has decided that lying on the floor is for babies, whereas she's a big girl and, therefore, must sit upright.
I never knew that a baby could be so hysterically funny. I never knew that so much milk could be spit up at once. I never knew that seeing her smile at me would make my entire day so much better.
What is it about our children that makes us want to rip our hair out and kiss them at the same time? How can we be so aggravated at them one minute, and want to shield them from ever getting hurt the next? Children are so beautifully innocent. I think, as adults, we forget that life isn't meant to be complicated. We get the notion that things should be a certain way, and become upset to the point of ruining relationships if they don't. You'll never see a child do that. To them, life is simple. They don't know how to hold grudges. They don't know how to feel superior. They don't know how to not be friends.
Since having Alexa, I often find myself taking a step back from my life and asking myself, "Would the 4-year-old me like who I've become?" If the answer is no, it's time to change something.