The Month Flew By

So, just a month ago I was traumatizing poor E and shoving our little butterball out into the world.

Amazing.

We took the obligatory monthly posed picture, and then I ran right back to the computer to compare it with the ones I was taking two years ago of E. And? There is just no comparison. Poor little MJ is so very much not little, and often resembles Jabba the Hut with a Conan haircut. E looked like a starving orphan next to that.

Sidenote: They weren't kidding when they said how important it is to keep a baby's 'neck folds' clean and dry. E never had 'neck folds', not a one.

MJ's one month appointment isn't until next week, so I don't have any of the fun stuff they measure, like percentages and poundage. I do, however, know that she's a healthy growing girl. The pile of newborn and 0-3 sized clothes she's outgrown says so. So does her ridiculous appetite and ability to make your arms tired after ten minutes of holding her.

Seriously. I was convinced E was a big baby and fast grower and all that. No comparison. None at all.

Now, me on the other hand . . . I haven't seen a scale since a week before I delivered . . . and it is killing me. Driving me absolutely nuts. It shouldn't. I should be satisfied that I'm back in my old clothes and that I only have one jelly roll around the middle, but there's just nothing better for the spirit than seeing it in numbers.

Or, it could end up being a crushing blow to the ego.

I'll decide which if I ever find a scale . . .