8 Months: (Under)Feeding Noble

This babe met her naked reflection this weekend, and spent a long time admiring her 7.5 month old physique and trying to make out. It must be strange not knowing what you look like naked, even more so not knowing that it's something to know. She's now resisting diapering at every opportunity, and looking forward to the next encounter.

For the last month or so, I've stopped giving Noble a bottle before bed. I've opted instead to try and keep her from nursing after 5pm, so that I can sedate her with a nice long feeding around 7:30, right after I watch her slip and slide perilously around in the bath tub. Saving milk is my most sacred crusade, and any option to leave our meager freezer stash alone has me enthusiastically dropping top. Pumping continues to be the most dreadful chore, especially since I only get 2-3 ounces per session, but the promise of being able to freeze a few bottles a week keeps me coming back.

Butternut squash is her current favorite food, and she hums between trapping bigger and bigger bites. Hummus and guacamole also make for fine prey, but it's melon that really drives her over the edge. Since we started feeding her solids, we've stuck to around 2 tablespoons of food twice a day with the usual unlimited nursing on demand. I only recently realized, after feeding her a larger serving followed by a long nursing session and an earlier bedtime, that the half hour of screaming we'd become accustomed to every night for the past month was, shamefully, hunger. My trauma at having possibly over-fed her on Easter disabled my radar, and it's hard to remember that a growing girl's needs change by the day. Thank you solids, for taking the wheel! Happily stuffed and cuddled she now slides into her crib without protest, rolling into pro position and powering down for 10 hours every night. No meat, wheat or gluten yet, but I'm determined to raise an educated omnivore, so while I don't cook with these items, I will encourage her to taste them when they're around.


Crawling. Cruising. Climbing. She has attended her first live sporting event, had a peanut butter banana breastmilkshake, and her first runny nose. She's definitely picked up Bill's Texas allergies, and my flare for drama. As she was waking up from her nap I noticed on the monitor that her crib flap was left down from the morning and she would be able to crawl out on her own. Busy making lunch, I decided to go open her door and sneak away to see what she'd do with a small serving of independence. As the door slowly swung open and let in the light from the hall, it became clear that she was still alone in her room. Nothing a little screaming couldn't fix.

This weekend she took her first dip in the pool at Mesquite Retreat, splashing and gasping as we lowered into chilly pre-season water.

For a while there, we were worried we'd have to give up our family and friends here in Austin in favor of Bill taking on a new position in L.A., but we've just received confirmation that he'll be able to work from home. 

Adventures can continue despite the looming threat of her first Texas summer on the outside.

While we wait for Noble's hair to grow, we are doing our best to match her do with the pageant beauties of her home state. Auntie Jade's hair has been of great help during this time. 

Hats off to my library crew, who have been so supportive of Noble's eating schedule since she arrived. I'm resigning this week so I can hang out with these gorgeous Georges full time, and will miss the complex saga of library circulation while I'm at home inventing indoor fun - something the library has in spades. 

7 Months: (Over)Feeding Noble

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.

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!

"Please, don't squeeze me right now."

"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!