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