Happy Halloween!

Great-Grandma's look-alike

At about two-and-a-half weeks of age, we decided it was about time for Noah to meet his Great Grandma. Let's set up this story a little bit...

Mary Frances Egle is a wonderful woman, who was married to Wilbur Egle. He passed away a long time ago, before Jonathan was even born... but not before Mary Frances could have a large family of ten children. One of those children was Jonathan's father. And Jonathan, as we know, was blessed with Noah Wilbur Egle on October 11 (ahh... it all comes together).

Mary Frances has been through a lot, especially in the last few years. She had colon cancer, and after a successful operation, has fully recovered... even to the point of taking a splendid vacation to Ireland to visit her roots, which we were privileged to witness (http://EglesInIreland.blogspot.com). All was well, but a few more health issues have cropped up, most recently a broken shoulder. But Grandma (or Great-Grandma, depending on your perspective) is a warrior. She had surgery on Tuesday to repair it, and she looks like a million bucks - she will be back to herself in no time.

What better way to lift her recovery spirits than for her newest great-grandchild to pay her a surprise visit?

So, after a few morning adventures, including a bath, laundry, and a trip to Babies 'R Us, we piled into our little car and Noah ventured further and further south, until for the first time in his lift, he found himself outside of Michigan!


Libby kept a close eye on him, but he traveled wonderfully... And before anyone knew it, we were pulling into Grandma's driveway. Grandma was enjoying an early-afternoon siesta, and when she opened her eyes, she exclaimed, "Am I dreaming?!?"

Within a matter of moments, Noah found a happy new place to nestle, and he quite comfortably stayed there for quite some time...


And for those of you who don't know Norwalk, it's a small town, and when there's a new baby around, it doesn't take long for word to spread. The rest of the day, Noah held visiting hours for all of his adoring fans, each one becoming more and more reluctant to let him go.

Aunt Elaine enjoys cuddle time

First-cousin-once-removed (fancy!) Michaela said that if Noah didn't spit-up on her, she would like him more than his cousin... note how clean Michaela's clothes are (and how clean they remained)

Aunt Monica took the opportunity to teach Noah a lot... or was it the other way around?

Noah found first-cousin-once-removed Courtney a comfortable place to rest

Wow... he looks small... or Uncle Dave looks big

But guess who got Baby Noah back for more cuddling...

Initially, we left our plans open, not sure how long we would stay... a few hours? over night? We ended up staying a full 24-hours, so I consider that a drastic success! We packed more than enough diapers... we had more than enough changes of clothes...

Highlights?

• Well, Grandma pointed out, that just like Noah's namesake (his great-grandfather) was told when he was a baby, Noah is too pretty to be a boy (which we clarified is a good thing).
  
• We noted a few similarities in appearances between Grandma and Noah... but we'll just leave them to disclose those at their discretion.
  
• Monica, who was spending the night with Grandma, regardless of our visit, was very excitedly waiting last night for Noah's reemergence this morning... just couldn't wait to see the cute baby again!
  
• Lots of people came to visit (to see Grandma, of course!), and they all pointed out how cute Noah is... God has certainly blessed us with a wonderful son, and it was fun for others to see that, too.
  
• Grandma's smile never faded during our entire visit... and I was told that hours after we left, it was still there.

Are all baths terrible?

Newborns are supposed to gain about an ounce a day in their first few weeks of life. Formula-fed babies are typically expected to gain more than breast-fed babies. We haven't introduced any formula yet. His birth weight was 7lbs, 11oz, and then as expected, he fell to 7lbs, 7oz. So at his two week check up, we would HOPE that he would weigh... forgive me while I do the math... 8lbs 2oz.

Now for the interposed story to keep you in suspense. Bath time was pretty traumatic at first. Upon reflecting on the experience, we theorized that maybe it was because we started in a slightly hungry state, and maybe having a happy, well-fed baby going into it would be better. Of course, we did all the same stuff to try to keep him happy, including hooking up our newly acquired space heater, but we also tried to keep him as covered as possible and make it relatively painless.

Happy, well-fed to start with

Looking pretty cute in his little towel with a hood

And wouldn't you know it... voila! He handled the bath much better than before... if only Grandma Betsy could've been around to see it. She would've been very happy. In fact, she probably would've taken lots of pictures and been really excited - the WHOLE time, this time.

Noah handles the bath time with ease

Look! Still no tears!

Happy, cute, and cuddly in his little hooded towel

Therefore, the answer to today's title question is no. Not all baths are terrible. In fact, they can be quite tolerable, as long as the starting conditions are good, and nothing goes astray during the bath itself.

So, how much do you think he weighs?

Any guesses? Nine pounds! Noah's a little chunker. He has no problems eating. He also grew 1/2 inch in length (I have no idea about that rate of growth compared to normal, and I'm not sure it really matters, since length measurements are so variable for babies... measure him again and he probably will seem to have shrunk, if he's flexing his hips just a little more).

When he was born, he was in the 75th percentile for length and about 25th for weight. He stayed the same in length (75th percentile), and caught up a bit in weight (50th percentile).

Ok. Those were the two stories I hoped to convey in this post: bath time and weight gain. So, you know what that means? Time for cute baby pictures!

So cute in his big-boy shirt

Playing on the play-mat

Reaching for toys

Wait! He's not a baby! Great-grandpa Asai having a chocolate cigar to celebrate!

Revenge of the Baby!

After the last post about the terrifying experience we put our child through, I just wanted to put up a quick post revealing who really runs this household (in case you were feeling any sympathy for him, whatsoever).

The day after our little bathing adventure, let's just recount how little Noah proved us a point:

• peed all over himself, his outfit, his hair, and the wall as he was getting changed
• once again managed to soak through his clothes and diaper and pee onto Daddy
• spit up all over Mommy
• go through five outfits in one day

Not a bad record for just one day... a day that he started cleaner than perhaps any other day of his life. Anyways, Noah showed us who's boss. And of course, can't have a post without cute baby pictures...

Who's more exhausted? Parents or baby?

Noah's personal physician

Play time with Mickey

So attentive!

The looming Halloween bear... creepy!

Cute little baby!

Showing off his snooty side...

Pensive...

Our little thug... growing up in da hood

When he wore this home from the hospital, it looked huge on him.

The Saddest Day of Noah's Life

Today was a day that will live on in infamy... at least in the mind of the newborn. We tortured poor little Noah today. We made him cry. We didn't stop tormenting him. He cried and cried and cried. We even read about the proper way to do it beforehand. Helpless Grandma Betsy looked on in agony, on the verge of tears, wanting to comfort, but she wasn't able to... Cecelia, in particularly sadistic fashion, filmed and photographed the entire experience. I'm frankly quite surprised that we didn't get any phone calls from the neighbors.

We carefully laid out the instruments of torture ahead of time...

Then we stripped our tiny little baby of his clothes, and perhaps his dignity, too. That was pretty much all it took for the crying to start, but that was just the beginning...

And then... WHAM! We hit him with all we had.

Water...

Soap...

Sponge... Nothing but cleansing goodness.

Grandma was excited at first, eagerly getting pictures to add to her iPhone collection.

In a short moment of compassion, Mom comforted the little one, and even got him to stop crying. He was definitely wide awake, though.

And then, Dad decided that was more than enough compassion. (After all, he cuts people for a living... how much compassion did you expect?) And they tag-teamed the rest of the torturing process.

Poor Grandma Betsy started to change sides. No longer was she one of us, gleeful in causing the despair of the little one, but instead she abandoned us... she started to have sympathy for Noah. Her loyalties to the adults waivered. Her lip quivered. She said, "I never washed my babies when they were crying! I don't think I could do that!"

We didn't let her propaganda get the best of us, though, and we continued with the brutality... allbeit in a slightly more tolerable manner.

And then with a quick diaper change, it all came to an end... a happy, clean, dry, fresh-smelling end. Noah was rewarded with a splendid meal prepared especially for him by his mother, and everyone, exhaused by the experience, promptly retired for the evening.