two weeks.

Jack,

You are two weeks old already. We had your first check up yesterday. Outside of a family drive to the KFC drive thru, it was the first time you and I had left the house. You love your carseat and car rides (i.e., they knock you out cold), so I'm not sure why we don't use that trick more. But at the doctors we found out you gained almost a whole pound on top of your birth weight, which the pediatrician said was very impressive. It didn't surprise me at all since you eat at all hours of the day and night (lucky mom). We found out your head size is in the 97th percentile, which explains why the labor went the way it did. You must have my head, which I apologize now for, since you will never find hats that fit and you will always struggle putting on pull over sweatshirts. But since I carried you for nine months and gave you life, let's call it even.

Everyone who sees you says you are an exact clone of your dad, and I completely agree. You definitely have his nose, his chin, and his cheeks. One nurse at the hospital actually held you up next to your dad's face and said "It's a mini me!" All the nurses also loved your cheeks--they would always comment about them. They were and still are very chubby and full.

You make these incredibly funny hacking noises right before you cry. 

"[hack] [hack] [hack] WAILLLLLL." 

It's like your warning siren. It's hard not to laugh every time you do it. Your dad makes a great impression of it. When you were first born, your cries were very sweet and hoarse sounding. Now they have increased in strength and volume.

When you grin, it's always lopsided. You pull your lips up on one side and raise your eyebrows. It's the best thing. It's usually followed by a furrowed brow, which I would say is your classic face. You look concerned about things. I like to think you are pondering and learning about the world when you wear it.

You've been fairly good for your parents most days. We had one doozy of a night recently where you decided to stay up for four hours in the middle of the night, with lots of tears from you and very little sympathy from the surrounding parties. We love you though. I think that's proved the hardest thing about caring for a newborn. There is little logic to things, it seems. "Why are you crying, dude?"

For the past few days, your new thing is needing to be bounced while you are awake and alert. You want constant interaction. That means you no longer like your boogie (i.e., the bouncer), probably because it is now officially old news for you.

These last few weeks, you have made life super crazy and tiring, but also wonderful and complete. It sounds cliche, but now I now why people call this the hardest but best thing I'll ever do.

Love,
Mom

And the photo dump:

 

And one of my favorites...