Food, glorious food!
… aaaaand I broke!
Yup, it finally happened. We started Baby Boy on rice cereal this morning (after, ahem, much holding-out on my part).
The yogurt incident yesterday was the final straw. He was ready. I knew it, I felt it, I couldn’t deny it.
Darling Husband came home from work early this morning (after the overnight shift), and I had the little plastic bowl and spoon set on the counter, the little bag of pumped breastmilk all ready for mixing, and the brand-new box of baby cereal — Nestle Rice Cereal, after much research and package-scouring.
We got Baby Boy settled in his new highchair, put on his adorable dinosaur bib (that matched his sleeper, joy!), and mixed up his cereal (one teaspoon of cereal to two teaspoons of breastmilk).
I knew all along that I wanted Darling Husband to be the one to feed him his first meal of cereal, so I let him go to town while I took photos and ran the camcorder to capture the big event.
He loved the cereal! Darling Husband was very skilled at spooning it in (note to self: try to be as tidy when it’s my turn to feed him), and he ate every bite happily.
And you know what? It was fine. It was a relief. The earth didn’t stop turning because my baby, for the first time in his four-and-a-half months of life, ingested something other than breastmilk.
I still feel a little bit of guilt over the fact that I went against the recommendation that babies have nothing but breastmilk for the first six months. That was my plan. I believed in the merit of it, and I thought it would be no problem to follow through with it.
But before the guilt gets too extreme, I immediately remind myself of the following things:
- I am still breastfeeding, and that is still where he’s getting most of his nutrition. I plan to keep breastfeeding until he’s a year old, hopefully.
- My doctor said to start formula or cereal at four months
- Baby Boy is way above average in size, so it makes sense that his body needs a bit of iron-fortified cereal (especially since I’ve had so many issues with iron)
- It’s important for Baby Boy to have a happy, healthy mommy who is somewhat rested (and not a mommy who resembles the walking dead … and gets no more than two hours sleep in a row … for more than eight weeks … Zzzzz)
I’m starting to break …
They say your baby might be ready for solids if they are “showing an active interest in your food.”
Baby Boy has been doing that for a month now — including a memorable moment the day after Thanksgiving when he grabbed a fistful of stuffing and turkey from Darling Husband’s plate.
Mere moments ago, he grabbed my (sealed) yogurt from my hands and tried to open it. When I took it back, opened it, and started to eat it, he started wailing and trying to take the spoon.
Um … I don’t think I have the heart to hold out much longer on the cereal. It’s starting to feel … right.
Screen scene
Baby Boy and I often go to the Mommy/Baby movies at the local theatres. I love them because (A) it’s a chance to get out of the house, (B) I love watching movies, and (C) it’s a chance to get out of the house. Did I mention it’s a chance to get out of the house?
When I was there last week, I noticed that ALL of the babies there are much, much younger than my little guy. They are all teeny little people in newborn-sized sleepers. Whereas my baby is wearing jeans, sneakers, and a rugby shirt, standing up on my lap trying to dive into the row of seats in front of us. And grinning at the other moms and babies. And grabbing my straw out of my drink. And trying to steal popcorn.
My friend C had to stop going to the Mommy/Baby movies when her little man was about six months old, because she said he was too active to make it enjoyable for her. I definitely understand that now. And it makes sense why there are only very young babies all around me in the theatre.
Luckily, I have an ace up my (spit-up-covered) sleeve. My kid? He loves movies! And TV shows! And watching YouTube videos. And looking at BlackBerry screens. Yes, he may be destined to be a vidiot, but he comes by it honestly. Darling Husband and I positively LIVE for our computers and smartphones, and we love watching television, and we both appreciate a good video game every once in a while. I suppose it’s in Baby Boy’s DNA.
So while Baby Boy may be a handful for some parts of the outing, he does spent the majority of the movie sitting on my lap, engrossed in it. For that, I am very grateful, and I will take it as long as it lasts. Because, as I may have mentioned, it gets us out of the house!
I don’t want to jinx it, but …
… for the last two nights, Baby Boy has only nursed TWICE. At midnight and at 4 a.m., both nights, like clockwork.
For those of you who are saying, “Um, so? He is four months old — that’s normal,” let me remind you that since Baby Boy was not quite three months, he has been nursing four or FIVE times a night. EVERY night, for a total of SEVEN weeks. FML, right?
We had no idea why he had gone from a baby who got at least one four-hour stretch at night (oh, those were the days!) to a baby who woke up every hour-and-a-half or two hours.
- Growth spurt? Sure, except it lasted SEVEN WEEKS.
- Hungry (because he wasn’t satisfied by breastmilk anymore)? Sure, if you ask my doctor (a.k.a. The Formula Pusher).
- His newfound rolling-over trick (that he kept practicing in his sleep)? Yup, lots of people think so.
- Getting arms/legs stuck in the crib bars? Yeah, that probably contributed to it. Stupid ban on crib-bumpers.
- Too distracted to eat as much during the day? Possibly.
Mommy confession …
I use my nursing bras as miniature purses. I am constantly tucking pacifiers in the handy little gap between my boobs, so that they’re always accessible when Baby Boy needs one. Sometimes my BlackBerry winds up in there, too.
Probably sounds very weird, but you know what? You don’t have POCKETS when you are practically living in yoga pants and tank tops, do you? How else* are you supposed to carry stuff with you from room to room, and you’re carrying a wriggly four-month-old?
*Before I wore nursing bras, I used to sometimes slip my BlackBerry into my undies** if I needed both hands to vacuum or something (and had no pockets).
**See, isn’t that worse than putting it in my bra?***
***You’re going to think twice before you borrow my phone now, aren’t you?
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