She may look a little flimsy, but at almost 14 pounds, our baby has moved up into the 4th percentile for weight. Look out! Possessed of a strong core, shining blue peepers, and a million dollar smile, our gal (pictured here treating her new
Schoenhut piano like a urinal after we suggested she take a formal lesson) continues to grunt and gnaw her way through life with aplomb. In her seventh month, Noble has conquered crawling, cruising with the aid of her parents low hanging hair, the eruption of a first tooth, flu shots, staggering around in a walker, and being clipped on her soft cheek by the car seat buckle. With so many traumas at the ready, she maintains a sunny disposition despite the challenges of teething, pooping actual turds (!!!), separation-from-boob anxiety, and barfing after hitting the boob too hard. Sitting up in her bed at 3am, I watched as she alternated between crying and lowering herself into one position after another for an hour before falling back asleep. She hasn't had a full sleep regression, but since teething has made her life more confusing than normal, our nights have been as bumpy as those gooey gums.
With her trusty celery stalk in hand, teething is less of a chore. Soon I'll be picking up some fresh fennel stalks as a soothing antidote to swallowing so much saliva. We've tried dosing her with baby ibuprofen at bedtime to ease her aches, but it doesn't really seem to make a big difference in her bedtime wallowing. I think she's crying because, more than anything, she's disappointed. And that's a lot to digest as a parent.
The other night while waiting for her to fall asleep, I distracted myself with some scissors and an elaborately-staged set of mirrors for a haircut. The late night home haircut - one of my favorite pastimes - has proven to be one of few things that truly take my mind off her crying, and yes, we
have to let her cry. There's no comforting her at night without nursing her for
hours. I've definitely caved a few times and curled up with her so she can suckle while I stare into the darkness, but it guarantees a repeat performance for the next night. When I get my resolve back it only takes a night for her to adjust to self-soothing, and there's nothing more sacred than the silence after a long struggle. It's worth it, of course, for without her beauty sleep, she can't have meaningful connections with her peers.
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| Or her piano. (Thanks Nortons!) |
Having procured one of many illicit baby walkers on the black market, I was excited to see how it would agree with her. Despite
Canada's ban on walkers, I decided that a little advanced mobility would complement her accelerated motor skills and athleticism. After talking it up for weeks, I made a quiet cash deal, brought it home, and dropped her in. Nothing at first, but with a little lean, she made it a couple feet while we cheered. She's plenty enthralled by the toy bar, but a little non plussed at having to propel herself around the house. Without having the help of the springs that bounce her in her beloved
Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo, the
2-in-1 Walk With Me Elmo is a different workout altogether, and she's apprehensive. She is happy enough in it, though struggling with abandonment issues when we try to lure her around a corner. We're optimistic.
Easter Sunday Noble had her first feast. I slept through my usual midnight pumping session, so she downed 2 engorged milk cartons followed by some oatmeal. She was slow to finish her spoonfuls, but I didn't think anything of it. She took a 2 hour nap, suffered through her dressing ceremony, and then was eerily quiet on the ride to my sister's house. She was passed around for a while, played on the floor for a while, then clambered into my arms before nonchalantly ralphing. Costume change, reset. Auntie Jade cleaned the rug and we all sat down to breakfast. Breakfast sandwiches, fruit salad, barf. Costume change. Reset. In retrospect, the warning signs were there. Breakfast, ye is risen!
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| "Please, don't squeeze me right now." |
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| "You're squeezing me again." |
After a nap, we took a walk and she spent some time enjoying some music with Uncle Wyatt. She is reliably amazed by guitars, and having been introduced to the tambourine and cajon in one sitting, now requires no less than a 2 part harmony. Thanks Wyatt!
She may look a little flimsy, but at almost 14 pounds, our baby has moved up into the 4th percentile for weight. Look out! Possessed of a strong core, shining blue peepers, and a million dollar smile, our gal (pictured here treating her new Schoenhut piano like a urinal after we suggested she take a formal lesson) continues to grunt and gnaw her way through life with aplomb. In her seventh month, Noble has conquered crawling, cruising with the aid of her parents low hanging hair, the eruption of a first tooth, flu shots, staggering around in a walker, and being clipped on her soft cheek by the car seat buckle. With so many traumas at the ready, she maintains a sunny disposition despite the challenges of teething, pooping actual turds (!!!), separation-from-boob anxiety, and barfing after hitting the boob too hard. Sitting up in her bed at 3am, I watched as she alternated between crying and lowering herself into one position after another for an hour before falling back asleep. She hasn't had a full sleep regression, but since teething has made her life more confusing than normal, our nights have been as bumpy as those gooey gums.
With her trusty celery stalk in hand, teething is less of a chore. Soon I'll be picking up some fresh fennel stalks as a soothing antidote to swallowing so much saliva. We've tried dosing her with baby ibuprofen at bedtime to ease her aches, but it doesn't really seem to make a big difference in her bedtime wallowing. I think she's crying because, more than anything, she's disappointed. And that's a lot to digest as a parent.
Easter Sunday Noble had her first feast. I slept through my usual midnight pumping session, so she downed 2 engorged milk cartons followed by some oatmeal. She was slow to finish her spoonfuls, but I didn't think anything of it. She took a 2 hour nap, suffered through her dressing ceremony, and then was eerily quiet on the ride to my sister's house. She was passed around for a while, played on the floor for a while, then clambered into my arms before nonchalantly ralphing. Costume change, reset. Auntie Jade cleaned the rug and we all sat down to breakfast. Breakfast sandwiches, fruit salad, barf. Costume change. Reset. In retrospect, the warning signs were there. Breakfast, ye is risen!
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