7. Noble Substitutions

Monday was our first big foray into costuming. Cue the milestone bib:

Thanks to an array of spit-ups, blow outs and inclement weather, we were privileged to wear many costumes. Transforming from "milk monster" to "crochet bunny" to "cowgirl" to "naked and angry" was simplified by our decision to stay home. Fortuitous, since cleaning up that splashy cowgirl patty was a real barn burner.

Tonight we swapped this

for a few hours on the town. For our first night away from our seven week old cooing, pooing bundle of grunts, we chose a quick ballroom dance lesson (should our dance card ever open up again) and a 3D showing of Doctor Strange. An action packed four hours to draw my focus  away from the no doubt harrowing scene playing out at home. My sister has worked with newborns younger than Noble, so I told myself not to sweat the inevitability that she might cry the whole time we were gone. Auntie Jade is one of Noble's favorites, presumably because Jade is the baby craziest of us all, and the closest thing to mommy without all that bothersome nectar leaking everywhere.

The troubles Jade shared with us when we got home were the same ones we've only just learned work arounds for. Not solutions, just distractions. Most of them involve breast milk on tap, or stomping around the house until she's confused enough to forget why she was crying in the first place. When in doubt, feed her, right?

Even I have my limits. Without a small arsenal of nipple shields, which perform a multitude of conveniences, no one would be drinking from these fountains.

 These are not as modern a marvel as I'd expected. Dating back to the sixteenth century when they were crafted from wood and other horrors, they have been my MVP since day 1.

Right up there with this guy

6. Noble Takes The Plunge

Day 37

A full month of sponge baths, damp wipe-downs and spit cleanings haven't prepared me for the real thing. Last week we had a family shower, wherein Noble's head was gently banged against the shower wall (Bill) shortly before she got punched in the skull drying off (Amber). Bathing is slippery business, and we were all a little nervous.
This week, her five week anniversary ushered in a funk I found both adorable and unnecessary, so we headed for the sink.

Thanks to this fabulous apparatus by Blooming Bath, Noble's first bath was a great success.

If you're familiar with a Blooming Bath, you're already a fan. If not, you might consider the investment. My sink is tight, so I put a pot with an inverted lid beneath it to adjust the height and let the water absorb, warming the seat up nicely. The petals can overlap to corral about an inch or two of water, so she was able to submerge her bum in her first non-fecal puddle.

Aside from sweat, diaper business and birth grime, there wasn't much to wash away.  As a fan of preserving precious sebum, I hope not to have to bathe her too often. As a fan of this accentuated baby pattern baldness however, I will look forward to any chance I get. Bring on the blow outs!

Fully dressed.

5. Noble vs The Gourds

 Day 34

Today, we visited Tarrytown's United Methodist Church to pick some pumpkins for the obligatory pumpkin patch pic. Noble, bonnet held high, thought this was an excellent idea when I briefed her on the plan.

We picked a cozy spot and nestled her in.

But suddenly

she realized she'd been left to fight the terrible gourds alone

and to her colossal horror, we just kept snapping.

4. Noble's Gas

Day 32

I believe 

the source of all my daughter's troubles

are bubbles. 

I tend to think

nursing to comfort her 

is a bit like cheating 

when Bill can only bounce

sing

swing

jiggle

jostle

I often forget

to try the pacifier

or play her favorite song

and instead throw open my shirt

making her troubles double 

and starting the cycle again

*Absolutely reactive gas compound

3. Dear Noble,

Today you are 23 days new. Your tear ducts are starting to wake up, I'm finding more and more debris in the tiny, dark recess between your thumb and forefinger. and your umbilical stump is waiting patiently under your dresser to be saved from whence it fell last week.  Your're averaging at least one new experience and visitor daily, you're coming to accept the reality that pacifiers require some commitment, and kick whichever breast you're not nursing from in appreciation of our expert parenting. You dress exclusively in second hand fashions, tolerate tummy time through muffled sobs and show great poise when hiccuping. You spend most hours eating, sleeping, or crying about not eating or sleeping.

You go from this...

...to this with charming nonchalance.

Your smiles set off a chain reaction of bliss in anyone around, and your tears are just salty enough to bring out the flavor in our blurry days. You are crusty, smelly and very easy to love.

You enjoyed the ambiance of our neighborhood cantina, nursed al fresco at the farmer's market, and saw all your grandparents this past weekend.

We also squeezed in a double rainbow, which I hope you'll remember because your dad had a hell of a time trying to photograph it.

You've been wrapped up tight against Daddy's heart beat while he played a two-handed video game and again against me while I did some two-handed gardening. We consider this to be "revolutionary."

 Thanks Messinas!

Yesterday I left you for 3 hours while I saw a movie, then took you to dinner at the Nortons' so you could be licked by a puppy and pawed at by your future babysitters (not pictured).

Then the unthinkable happened. We brought you home, I read you a story while you nursed for a reasonable 30 minutes, then your dad walked you to sleep. You stayed in this state for almost 7 hours. Dad is (predictably) optimistic about tonight. I am terrified.

Sleep well, dream girl.

                    Love,

                    Mom

2. A Noble Visage

Day 16

I must admit, I love this. Sure, things are often funnier when you're deliriously tired, but come on. You don't have to be running on 4 hours of sleep to think your newborn crying like an orphaned dolphin is entertaining. The eye crossing still makes me laugh sixteen days in, and when she smiles between bouts of wonder and bewilderment, (and rage and betrayal), I think my grin is going to explode off my face and splatter all over her open mouth under a shower of my own tears. Then she'll fart and the stink of boiled eggs melts my heart all over again. It's intense.

As parents, we're giving ourselves an A+. So far, Bill has been responsible for daytime, while I catch up on sleep lost during my night shift. When Noble screams, she quiets almost instantly in his arms. So when she's raging too hard to nurse, Bill will walk her a few paces and bring her back to herself.

Boxing practice

It's mesmerizing watching someone you love, er... adore... treasure... take such tender care of your newborn. I dreaded having to share him; the thought of changing our precious and dynamic duo for anything was impossibly irresponsible to me - but let me tell you. Life, ah, ah, finds a way.

Bill and I have courted family life for many years, talking tactics, baby names and baiting each other into getting pregnant. He's proposed periodically over the years, but I never felt tempted until our boxes were unpacked and we were staring at each other over the kitchen table in a house built for two. Or three. Four max.

I spent a good amount of nap time filing down Noble's claws the first few days. Then I gave up in favor of skin-saving mittens. Mittens, while entirely adorable, functional and at the top of the fashion food chain, eventually start to smell like crusty, regurgitated milk. Today, I broke out the clippers.Note: Abstain from coffee, energy drinks, and placenta smoothies before clipping an infant's nails. You need the hands of a surgeon to perform this task. My one saving grace was keeping her in mittens 'round the clock, resulting in well-hydrated, dispensable skin beneath the cliffs of her razor sharp nails. After trimming all ten talons, I sat back content to do nothing else the rest of the day. It occurs to me now she also has ten angry toenails.
Parenthood.

Please enjoy this super romantic daddy/daughter video.

Music by Mulatu Astatke

Beards.

1. A Noble Endeavor

Here she is, as expertly captured by Katy Taylor at about 30 hours old, gazing at her Uncle Judd.

Happy Birthday to Noble Aquemini Moreno! 

Party animal. Daughter. Avid fan of colostrum.

Her arrival, though highly anticipated, was somewhat unexpected. No longer content to be wedged under the table like so many soiled and crumpled napkins, she broke my water after a little salsa at dinner Monday night. Determined not to spend another meal inside a bag of fluid, a few hours later she encouraged my uterus to start the arduous process of moving her toward the nearest exit.

The timeline went like this: contractions began later that night at 9:15, reminiscent of a hearty series of menstrual cramps, about 6 minutes apart. We arrived at St. David's Downtown Medical Center around 11pm and in the hours following, contractions took on a more sinister nature, reducing me to a kind of caged animal, menaced by delusions, and given less than a minute to recover in between. My enclosure was a dimly lit birthing room with a side bed in a nook where I crashed into a stack of pillows each time a mind-numbing wave seized my lower back. Hypnosis tracks I'd been practicing during pregnancy offered me an hour's distraction from the punishing reality that this was only going to get more intense. By 3:45, the urge to push gave me new perspective on the work to be done, so I refocused my efforts and prepared my nethers for a strain heretofore unrealized...

At 4:55, Noble's crowning was so full of pageantry that every inhale came trumpeting out with more and more raucous force and volume. Calls from the staff to slow down were deliberately disregarded as I sent my daughter barreling through precious tissues to burst out onto the bed at 4:56 am, September 13, 2016.

21 inches of gorgeous, squalling, raw human music, wearing an 8lb 13 oz suit of baby magic. Such a crescendo as hers did require stitches, and left me with a sore throat.

Baby wig photo ops. Enough reason to start a family.