Archive for the ‘infant feeding’ Tag

Mostly Wordless Wendesday – Gingerbread Girls…   18 comments

Bridget loves to make cookies, but this was the first time the girls got to taste some of our handiwork. After a celebratory “cheers” (is it bad my daughter tells me to drink more wine, and my toddlers know how to cheers before their first birthday?? LOL) the girls chowed down. Well, sort of… Taylor demolished her cookie and started attempting to pick up the crumbles left on KCs plate. KC kept half-heartedly gumming hers, but I’m pretty sure she was confused as to what all the fuss was about. And now that I’ve posted these pictures, i’ve just noticed that my husband has (yet again) given Taylor a mowhawk after her bath… Again?!?
 
Bridget and Taylor "cheers" their gingerbread cookies!

Bridget and Taylor "cheers" their gingerbread cookies!

Taylor's first taste of Christmas Gingerbread
Taylor’s first taste of Christmas Gingerbread
Kennedy's first taste of Xmas gingerbread
Kennedy’s first taste of Xmas gingerbread
Hmmm - KC's not sure if she really likes this gingerbread stuff
Hmmm – KC’s not sure if she really likes this gingerbread stuff
Love how she holds everything like such a little lady - pinkie raised and all!
Love how she holds everything like such a little lady – pinkie raised and all!

 

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Embarassing Mommy Confession #328   1 comment

Mealtime for Kennedy

Mealtime for Kennedy

 

In my brief time mothering my little family, I have many embarassing mommy confessions…

  • The first time B drops the F-bomb, it will definately be my fault (ditto for any other “bombs” you can think of – but I’m working on it!) 
  • Bathtime is definately an every other day thing in our family – twice weekly when life gets crazy.
  • And while my kid thinks that the big yellow “M” stands for Mommy (and not McDonalds), she certainly knows how to order herself a half-sweet half-hot kids hot cocoa, and usually tries to sneak in a gingerbread cookie if she can – heated in the oven, please and thank you. 

But the big one for (ahem) this week:

My kids prefer jars.

 

Yup. There you have it. Given the option between my home-stewed, tree-ripened, hand-peeled organic peaches, and Heinz’s original green label, I lose. Big time.

Its become something of a joke these days considering that I currently have a freezer full of beautifully- coloured cubes of home made baby food, most of them made from perfectly balanced organic recipes learned from naturopath-nutritionist guru Lianne Phillipson-Webb. Her food classes are awesome, and I learned so much from attending them. Bridget was a huge fan of my homemade food (though now I wonder!), and as such I have been making most of our twins’ food since they started solids at 6 months. The time commitment is high, what with the shopping, washing, peeling, chopping, measuring and cooking, especially for two babies this time around… But I figured it was worth it. And they’ll like it better, right?? Right?

OK, lets be honest – I mainly do it because I have bought into the concept that home-cooked is “real” food, and stuff from boxes and cans is the devil. When I was a kid, we ate a lot of prepackaged food. I have fond memories of neon yellow Kraft Dinner, Hamburger Helper, Riceroni, Alphagetti, Chunky Beef soup, and Kraft Butterscotch pudding, and even get occasional cravings for the aforementioned nasties to this day. And of all people, I should know that given the choice between gourmet organic 3-cheese macaroni and the neon yellow crap, 9 out of 10 kids will pick the Kraft. And the 10th kid is likely the one everyone laughs at on the playground because he’s wearing the reindeer jumper his mummy bought him for Christmas. So he doesn’t count.

But until recently, I hadn’t had to face up to this sad fact as my kids hadn’t ever experienced jarred food. If it didn’t come out of our freezer, they hadn’t seen or tasted it before. But when I went out of town for a few days, I was afraid Nanny and Grampa might want something simpler than sifting through 32 ziploc bags in the freezer to find 3 cubes of this and 2 cubes of that, so loaded up on some of the Heinz organic line instead. And that, my friends, was the beginning of the end.

Not only did they like the jarred food, but now they even get excited seeing the jars come out of the cupboard. And while I am still mildly frightened at meat that can sit out at room temperature (even when its canned, that just seems strange), their new favorites are the PC Organics meat & veggie mixes. Now, it hasn’t stopped me from continuing to make yummy new food for them, some of which still trump the jars (pureed beets, and my new fave quinoa and veggie recipe come to mind). But in the end, I’ve had to soften my “no processed foods” line to admit that if the texture and flavour suits them, and it is (embarassing to admit) yummier than mine is, then I’ll just have to add some to the rotation.

But it doesn’t mean I have to like it… 

The aftermath for Taylor

The aftermath for Taylor

“One knows not the worth of water till the well is dry…”   5 comments

Welcome to The Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival!

This post was written as part of The Breastfeeding Cafe’s Carnival. For more info on the Breastfeeding Cafe, go to www.breastfeedingcafe.wordpress.com. For more info on the Carnival or if you want to participate, contact Claire at clindstrom2 {at} gmail {dot} com. Today’s post is about Family and Breastfeeding. Please read the other blogs in today’s carnival listed below and check back for more posts through July 31st! 


 

My husband knows to get water. It could be 7:30 in the morning, or just after dinner, or even (on more occasions than I’d like to admit) 3am, but he knows. He shows up, unbidden, with a huge mason jar of water in his hand and silently hands it to me, knowing even before I do that I’ll be thirsty as the Mojave Desert in about 35 miliseconds. Once those two little mouths trigger their first milk let-down, my body screams at me for re-hydration, and shakes its angry fist over the fact that I forgot (again) to drink enough to rehydrate after our last nursing session. So my hubby knows that no matter what else might be helpful, first off, I’m gonna need water. Over the last seven months of us nursing our twins, he’s learned to anticipate and be rewarded.

Usually, it’s just a tired smile and a “Honey, you’re the best…” Not too infrequently, that’s followed with, “And while you’re here, could you just grab my (blackberry, TV remote, lunch, hair elastic, etc) from the other side of the room and bring it over for me??” Because, unfortunately for Will, he’s the only one in our family with any foresight. One of the downsides of nursing twins (at least, simultaneously nursing twins) is that once you’re sitting down and in position with two little mouths latched on, you’re kinda stuck there. There’s no casual nursing while wandering around the kitchen tidying with the other hand… There’s no getting your own water, answering the door, grabbing the telephone, using the facilities, or any of the other 999 things I used to do while nursing my first daughter, Bridget. Nope. There is just 15 minutes of staring at the wall and talking to yourself, if you didn’t have the foresight to get what you needed first before you picked up the two babies. Which is what usually happens when I’m on my own.

But, blessedly, when my dear spouse, or my newly useful (almost) three year old are around, I get my water. Or my Blackberry. Or whatever else I am requesting. Because they love me. And that’s just what family does…

 


 Here are more posts by the Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival participants! Check back because more will be added throughout the day.

My life as a squeegee kid…   1 comment

Squeegee mom in action on day one...

As the twins are now six months old, we have just embarked on a new oddessy: solids. From listening to first-time moms at playgroups and drop-in centres, and my (albeit dim) memory of doing this waaay long ago with our (almost) three year old, Bridget, I know that starting solids is generally looked apon as a momentous occasion. Dum duh duh DUUUM! My child now eats real food! No longer am I her sole source of nutrition! And look how grown up and mature she is. Soon, she’ll be holding her own utensils, sitting at the dinner table all by herself eating the same food as mom and dad and having polite dinner conversation and …

Uh huh. Right. You see the slippery slope that one takes you down? When I realized five months was rolling around with the twins and they had hit 15 lbs, a strange feeling of dread hit the pit of my stomach. The twins nursed constantly and yet still begged to eat. They sat in their little highchairs at meal time like two princesses on matching thrones, awaiting service. They watched each and every bite leave our plates and enter our mouths with the solumn fixation of starving orphans from Oliver Twist. Food, glorious  food! My husband was psyched!

I, however, was not. Part of it was the increased workload – I mean, let’s be honest! Its not like I’m keeping up with laundry as it is… Most days, there are at least two, possibly three loads waiting to be folded and put away. And now we’ll be adding in 6 bibs, 4 extra outfits (for pureed something ends up down someone’s shirt/pants at least once at every meal, always in the opposite direction the bib is oriented, and (duh!) there are two of them), and at least 16 bazillion washclothes??? But mainly, it was the fact that for the next six to eighteen months (let’s pray for the former!), I will become simply a glorified squeegee kid.

It’s amazing the psychological similarities there are between meal-time moms of infants, and those pubescent street urchins: you approach a relatively uninterested (occasionally downright irate) party with a service they either: a) don’t know they need or are b) pretty sure they don’t want, foist it upon them with fake sincerity and a Bob Moss-ian smile, and then rely on their sense of good-natured obligation for non-violent compliance and (perhaps even a small reward)! And obviously, after two to three carefully choreographed swipes of the chin after each and every spoonful of puree that goes in, the physical similarities are uncanny. Down to the angled swipe down the centre to finish the job. Times two.

Even so, however, seeing their little faces either light up with enjoyment or squeeze shut in ultimate agony after the first taste of something new that I made all by myself, makes all the chopping, pureeing, swiping, wiping,  and washing almost worth it….

Almost.