Conrad transforms solids into liquids and gases

Mmmm, cold porridge mixed with breastmilk, anyone? What if someone chewed it up for you, then spat it back in the bowl and fed it to you on a teaspoon? No? Well, this is what my baby has been offered the last few mornings, with mixed success. I can't imagine a worse introduction to a lifetime of gastronomic delight, but porridge-and-breastmilk is what the experts recommend when you start your baby on solids. 

I was disgusted by the chewing part, until I read a billion articles saying that the reason this generation is riddled with allergies is because we've been raised in such a pristine, disinfected environment that our immune systems aren't learning how to work properly, and are therefore overreacting to ordinary foods. A Good Weekend magazine story a few months ago, which I have in hard copy but can't find online, said that, before blenders, parents chewed their baby's food for them, and this is "still the norm in countries where food allergy is rare". Not exactly a direct causal link, but I figured it can't hurt to do it. 

Conrad is the very picture of health so I think he can handle a bit of my bacteria. He is curious, non-stop active, mostly happy, and loves to socialise. His skin is like cream and his eyes are sharp. His body is a bundle of muscle, while his face has nice chubby cheeks and a double chin. My boobs are responsible for all that, by the way. We just took our baby for his six-month check up, and found that he weighs 7.8 kilos, which is right on average for his age. Babies are supposed to double their birthweight by six months, and Conrad has almost tripled his. It is my breastmilk that has done that. Me!

But breastmilk alone is not cutting it anymore. Conrad has been RAVENOUS over the last fortnight, since he started moving around more, and my boobs just can't keep up with his appetite. I can't help feeling a bit sidelined, a bit impotent, but I always knew this day would come, so I have to be tough. It's good emotional preparation for the blow of him moving out of home in a couple of decades' time.

So, solids it is. Thus far, it has been only the afore-mentioned porridge, plus a few spoonfuls of avocado, none of which has met with much of a response either way. The only change is in the nappies - phew!! The delicate aroma of milk poos has made way for some seriously stinky deposits. I can't wait to witness the results of dairy products. Hmm, and maybe some asparagus, hommous and cabbage? I'll put up with anything if it means I can stop getting my boobs out every two hours.

ready to roll

Ok, so, you think 'babies', you think 'babies moving around'…. therefore you think 'crawling'. At least I did, B.C.

I ran into the kitchen this morning, asking Tom, "Did you just lie Conrad down on his tummy?" 

"No…" was the answer. 

"Wow - well that means he just flipped from his back onto his front!" I exclaimed.

And so he had. He's been going from front to back for weeks now, so it could be just days until he combines the two motions and he'll be rollin rollin rollin.

I never knew that some babies have a rolling stage and, frankly, I think it's a ridiculous way to get around. I've been told that parents can pop out of the room for a moment, returning to find their baby has disappeared. Only a muffled squawk alerts mama or papa to the fact that their pride and joy has rolled under the sofa.

How am I going to be able to respect Conrad while I'm fishing him out, covered in dust, from under our couch? I hope he'll be one of those who skips straight to the crawling phase, hopefully wearing nothing but a pure white nappy and a sweet grin, like in the ads. 

a slobby day

It's a quarter to five in the afternoon**, I'm in my tracksuit pants and ugg boots, all I've eaten today is a Dickensian diet of porridge and bread, and I haven't left the house or done any exercises. I feel most un-yummy, more like bummy slummy mummy.

It's a long time since I've been so slothful - not since those first six weeks of motherhood, those dark, dark days. Usually now I make a point of getting properly dressed every morning, which does wonders for my mood. Today feels like a slippery slope, and I can see how stay-at-home parents end up isolated, unkempt and wearing stretch fabrics. Actually, I can see why daytime drinking and repeat scripts for valium were popular for mothers during the '50s. 

Some days I feel like I barely cope, and I've only got one baby, plus a helpful partner, a cleaner once a fortnight, two keen grandmamas and lots of friends happy to babysit.  I actually cannot fathom how people do this with several kids, but then, once upon a time i couldn't fathom how people did it with one. You just do, I guess.

**Well, it was when I first started writing this. Yesterday.