Diary of a new Mum

We’re weaning again. Yes, Hamish is 6 months old and the pureeing of a variety of organic vegetables has begun.

Second time around is no less messy. Actually, it’s more messy because my attention is divided between feeding the baby and feeding the two year old, who can of course feed herself but who won’t when baby brother is being fed. She has to concentrate on directing the entertainment.

‘Mummy, do the helicopter one for Hamish’.

‘OK, choccachoccachocca now, Lauren eat your radish.’

‘I don’t like radish.’

‘It’s pink!’ I say hopefully.

I don’t like it.

‘OK, eat your macaroni’.

‘I don’t like macaroni!’

‘You ate it yesterday.’

‘I ONLY like it in macaroni soup.’

‘Right’.  Turn to wall. Scream silently with fist in mouth.

‘Actually Lauren it’s called Minestrone’. (Ha, victory over small one with limited vocabulary).

Current phase then is claiming not to like any food that’s put in front of her unless it’s sweet (obviously) or baked beans. Baked beans get eaten within nanoseconds, leaving a big tomato-y stain all round her face, which gives a whole new meaning to BB creams.

Otherwise, she doesn’t need to taste, or even smell the food to ascertain that she doesn’t like it. She just knows. Incredible. A level of intuition I am sure you’ll agree can only be described as super-advanced.

And this opinion forming transcends to all areas of her life. She is increasingly difficult to please aesthetically.

Two recent quotes:

‘Mummy, take away your plait. It’s not beautiful. Do something else with your hair’.

‘Mummy, wear a dress today. I prefer you in a dress.’

It can be pretty demoralising. I always imagined little children thought their mummy looked beautiful no matter what. This seems not to be the case.

And as for poor little Hamish, he just goes on and on being a good little boy and fitting in around her. Second child syndrome? Yup.

Don’t ask me how much he weighs, or what percentile he is in the growth charts. I do not know. I do not get him weighed. Why on earth would I? I can tell he’s getting bigger. He’s growing out of clothes and the sling is increasingly uncomfortable, so he’s fine.

I hear conversations between new mothers. My baby was 75.3rd percentile at the last weigh in, but he had just done a huge wee so I reckon he’s more like 78th because he was born on the 78th and so far he’s run exactly on his growth curve……………blahblahblah…..ad infinitum.

We’ve all been there.

But most of us don’t return.

We may be weaning now but am I trialling foods carefully one by one to ensure I can note any allergic reactions? No.

Am I keeping a list of each new food he tries to make sure he tries everything and creates a well developed palate. No.

Am I pureeing carefully everything, or am I just mashing up a bit of what Lauren has and giving him that?  Well, a bit of both really.

Have I even mentioned he’s got a tooth?! NO. Well he has. This would have been the headline of my blog with Lauren.

But it doesn’t mean I love him any less!   So here is a big photo just of Hamish because he’s my best boy!

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