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!

28. A Noble Pursuit

Time is flying, and I have abandoned my weekly writing in favor of trying to stay on top of all this action.  As of March 20th, my darling girl was 26.25 inches tall, but not yet 13 pounds. Despite my faithful responses to her feeding cues, she's still just a little thing. 14 to 17 lbs. is the average weight for a 6 month old girl, but I don't know how rigorous the average 6 month old's exercise regimen is. Noble is spotted for multiple reps of sit-ups, push ups, wheel barrows and bouldering daily, in addition to having unlimited access to her jumperoo. She must burn a lot of calories grinning as hard as she does, and blowing so much cool can't be effortless either.

No longer easily corralled on the couch, we spend our time romping, bouncing, strolling, rolling and pulling up. Every day is different of course, bringing a new and unexpected schedule of sweet and tender changes. Occasionally we'll put her down at 8pm and won't hear from her until the morning. Mostly, she still takes a midnight snack. A few days ago, she started blowing raspberries, oh, and bouncing. Any time, any place. Excellent rhythm. Sometime last week she started to truly grasp the mechanic of accepting and swallowing bites of food, alternating between gracefully taking spoonfuls and creating a dripping slurry. Friday she took 2, t-w-o, 3 hour naps while I tidied and straightened and laundered and deep cleaned. Saturday she sat in a high chair at a restaurant. Sunday she displayed a keen sense of the theatrical, pretending she was a wild animal catching its prey as she growled on her way to snaring a nipple. Shortly after pulling away from her meal she was visibly high on her conquest. Positively tripping on calories.


Enter solid food, the ultimate diversion and labor of love. A joyful gummer, she prefers sweet potato so far, and orange wedges sucked through a mesh food sock above all. We've offered her oatmeal, apple, peas, avocado, pears, bananas and nectarines; none are so confounding as plain water, the riddle of all riddles. We're using the BEABA Babycook, a marvel of steaming and blending in one handy and compact appliance gifted to us by one of our many fairy benefactresses, A.D.! While we wait for her limbs to chub out, her diapers provide instant feedback that she's adapted to the addition of solids. The proof is, indeed, in the pudding.

Til next time, remember to be kind to your reflection. A nap might be the only thing standing between you and a damn fine mood.

25. Noble's First Nosh

Sitting. It's de rigeur for any woke baby these days. Noble takes her tips from her desperately out-of-touch parents who spend hours eating, reading and watching from the comfort of their asses daily, rarely refining their motor skills or innovatively slobbering on the undersides of things.

Despite my efforts to seamlessly integrate Daylight Savings Time and put her down 15 minutes earlier each night for the previous four days, Noble still howled for an hour and a half when I treated her to a brighter bedtime Sunday night. And thanks to teething, we're locked into a once-a-night cycle of her waking up and crying languidly for about 30 minutes before I go in and give her a 5 minute sip and lay her back down. While nursing in the dark and trying not to get her too excited, I've started doing slo-mo plié sequences for the full 5 minutes to pass the time. I'm testifying to that fact here, so I'll feel motivated to continue.

At 6 months, she's perfecting her latest expression, as evidenced by her near-constant silent roar of elation.

The mirror doesn't necessarily inform her expressions, but after spending a fair amount of time reflecting, her eyebrows have been werqing overtime.

Sunday, the eve of her ❤❤❤6 month❤❤❤ anniversary, we introduced bananas. Keeping a watchful eye on the camera, she allowed a few bites past those gummy gates before passing stern judgment and demanding full control of the scene.

And water. Utterly un-udderable strangeness.

The aftermath taught us a great deal about portioning, wardrobe and props.

NOTE: If you have subscribed to this blog and are viewing it from your email inbox, feedburner, in its infinite wisdom, has chosen to strip the embedded videos from blogs. To view this post in its intended edition, please journey to morenovision.blogspot.com. Working on it!
Love,
Amber

23. Noble Sacrifices

Keeping up with writing once a week hasn't been much of a sacrifice. I'm up most days at 6:30, so pecking out my thoughts with one hand and lovingly cradling one of these beautiful babes with the other isn't too terrible a chore. Hopefully I'm recording all the breaking news and not just wailing about the losses; things like the melon-sized hairball I collected (for posterity) to see just how much has fallen out. Or the flaming red itch in my armpits since I started breastfeeding. A month of nursing without a breast shield has predictably left my nipples in crisis, despite my efforts, especially in cold weather. To ease my sorrows, Noble is now full-on laughing, stirred up by thigh biting, rib tickling and simple pranks. 

It's been ages since I was a single person. 23 weeks ago I was tottering around the yard without a care in the world, except urging my baby to get on with it, but I was totally untethered (except to the toilet) and blissfully unaware of the state of anyone else's undergarments. Now my days start with spikes in adrenaline as my radar picks up the early morning distress calls of starvation and a full diaper. 

It's been over a month since Noble started going down at 7, and I've grown accustomed to going out with friends after sunset, enjoying cocktails, and doing full cycles of laundry with impunity. Bill and I stay in most nights, making dinner and catching up on tv until my 9pm nap, if I can make it that long. Tonight I'm going out alone to pick up some over-night diapers. For a friend.

Now that Noble has proven herself an inquisitive and proprietary grabber nothing within arm's reach is safe, and wearing earrings has become a thrilling risk. Watching her reach for things, grab her leg, pet her hair and sigh contentedly is as enthralling as it is gratifying. Listening to her noises is amazing. Sensational. Profound. To know she is modeling herself after our successes and failures day to day is a sobering reminder to live our best lives. Not just play on our phones all day. 

21. Dear Noble,

Hey sweetheart. Yeah, you, you chatty little goblin. Boob squeezer. Hair clutcher. Nap skipper. You started upping your small talk game the other day, and  we're thrilled about it. Every time we're in a group and you start jabbering I want to shush everyone, but you seem to love chiming in. When we're alone at home you go on and on, making a lot of remarks about your mobile or the welcome breeze during a diaper change.

You darling girl. Sitting up with more conviction every day, laughing easier and easier, drooling faster than we can mop. You've resolutely cried through your 3:30 nap for so many days in a row that we've decided to let it go, but you're netting at least 11 hours a night and it's much appreciated. Upon waking around 7, you gulp down your instant breakfast in a frenzy while I work your legs and feet back into their pajama compartments. You take your morning walk with Daddy where you watch school children board school buses and neighbors scurry around the neighborhood. A sign language lesson and some bouncing on the bed or flying around the house takes us to second breakfast. At 9am you take your first nap, I go to work, and before you know it we're together again for elevenses at the library.
Down again at 1 and up by 3, you have a long lunch and spend some time on a blanket watching the trees and tearing at the grass. If you've had enough excitement and show signs of fatigue, you'll get another nap around 4:30 until 5 when you take your evening stroll. At 6 we get into the bath, which you drink as much of as possible, and talk about body parts. A 5oz bottle at 6:30 is followed by a few books, some singing (Loudon Wainwright's Dilated To Meet You) and eventually you're carried away by the sounds of ocean waves. After you went to sleep on Valentine's Day, Daddy and I did a scavenger hunt piecing together limericks hidden around the house, and talked about you over pizza and sherry. We're planning your 6 month brunch, where your first taste of food (banana or sweet potato?) will be in front of an eager audience. Grandpa visited this week, having booked a flight after seeing a photo of you last month and fretting that you were growing up too fast. The threat is real, puddin.

20. Noble Accoutrements

20 weeks in Babyland have been made possible by many key ingredients gifted from friends and the occasional stranger. Patience, zip-up jammies, burp cloths, the Boppy Lounger, our Kanaluti carrier and a slobbery mountain of other things have guided us through the fourth trimester. We've just moved into our 2 day supply of Bumgenius Freetime diapers, started latching without a nipple shield, (!), and have officially sized out of newborn-sized shoes. Thanks to increased confidence and muscle definition we are no longer plagued by pitiful bouts of crying face down. This baby has lift.

She is easily entertained by buzzing, adults brushing their teeth and - shocker! - anything with a screen. She's started splashing in the bathtub, sitting contentedly, sucking her thumb and pawing her hair for comfort, using her slimy fingers to shellac her hair into charming configurations. At bedtime she gets a massage, coconut oil on her calloused knees and elbows, a 5oz bottle, a few books and some drooly bang time on the ukelele.

Now that she requires more room to roll around before dropping off, we've upgraded from a bassinet to the spacious Guava Lotus travel crib for all sleep sessions. Of the stack of blankets she's received, mine from '83 is the one that fits it perfectly. I'll wait while you admire my shapely Calvin Kleins.

She's finally started to pack on some meat, no doubt from indulging in extra helpings of bath bubbles.

I believe we must congratulate Beyonce again: she's been busy in the studio cooking up The Carter Twins. If what I know about skin is true, we might see some stretch marks on this next album. Lube up all you want Bey, twins that make it close to 40 weeks are more than likely to leave some marks in the [fossil] record. I slathered on Burt's Bees Belly Butter morning and night, but at 37 weeks I woke up and there they were. Growing stains are a part of many post natal life styles, however, and what eventually fades with age will burn red and puckered in my heart forever. Awwww!

So, you're looking for a baby carrier, or perhaps you have a small dog in diapers with attachment issues? I'm shining my light on Kanaluti carriers, the brainchild of my old pal down Houston way. She gifted me a brand new "Elements" carrier, featuring breathable mesh for a Texas summer-friendly carry. Quick on and off with military-grade buckles and webbing, this is truly comfortable and so adjustable my husband and I can swap it without rolling our eyes too hard while strapping in.

Till next time, friends. 

Remember to grab your dreams with both hands.