I figured that since I went to the effort of setting up this blog it might be a good idea to write something in it. I’ve spent the past day mulling over what I should say in a ‘First Post’ and decided you didn’t want to read me complaining about the fact my header image is perfectly aligned on the mobile view of this page, but seems to cut J’s head off on the computer and I have no idea how to fix it. I’ve also got an ‘About’ page which tells you a little bit, well, about me, so that’s out.
Mark Twain once said something like ‘if you have nothing to say, say nothing’ but I LAUGH in the face of this idea. Soz Mark but I am in charge of a hyperactive small person, and exist on caffeinated beverages and handfuls of cereal intermittently eaten directly from the box throughout the day. I’m a grown up and I’ll do as I damn well please.
So, I decided to write a bit about ‘parenting choices’ we have made. Mainly because I thought if I told you I breastfeed, babywear, did baby-led weaning, and bedsharing you would assume I was a *type* of parent. Not that there is anything wrong with being a *type* of parent one way or the other- you keep your small person alive & generally happy, and you are doing OK by me, no judgement here. So let’s deal with these one by one. (I apologise for the fact I have no idea how to make the rest of this post go under a ‘Read More’ linky thing. I am learning.)
I was pretty lucky with breastfeeding to be honest. J did have a tongue-tie and it was sore for the first few weeks, but after this was snipped it got a lot easier. I can only just remember the despair of those cluster feeds in the early days when I thought I would sell my soul if men could do the boob feeds instead. In my head I always thought I would go to a year, but here we are at 15 months with neither of us wanting to stop, so we’ll just see where we get to. This picture was taken a few weeks ago, when I fed him in front of a load of businessmen on a commuter train, and no one complained (actually I have never had any dodgy comments). Perhaps they wisely sensed this was preferable to him running up and down the aisle shouting ‘TA!’, pointing to his nose, and trying to remove his shoes for half an hour.
I don’t exclusively babywear, I often use the stroller if I am out shopping because hey that basket is handy, but I do love his little head snuggled into my chest. Less good is the inevitable snot patch left behind.
Baby Led Weaning:
Just like any ‘in the know’ totally not clueless first time parent, I did lots of weaning research when J turned 4 months and we decided to wait until he was 6 months old and do Baby Led Weaning. I loved the idea of him eating what we ate (within reason), he was an independent little guy, and I didn’t think he would take well to being spoon-fed anyway (which was definitely the case when we tried things like yogurt). Cue freshly cooked delicious turkey and home-made pesto meatballs with vegetable crudites. No, wait, don’t throw that on the floor, hang on, let me just pick that up I think you dropped it by mist…Oh, the whole lot is on my head. You get the idea.
We did stick with the whole BLW thing, but like most people I imagine, we muddled through and found a balance that worked well for us. I can neither confirm nor deny reports that yesterday I squeezed an Ella’s kitchen pouch directly into his mouth while he watched TV because the little cherub had refused to sit still in his highchair and eat the freshly cooked meal I had prepared.
Also known as co-sleeping, but that doesn’t begin with a B.
This is actually a depressing new turn of events in the Betteley household. J has always been a pretty piss poor sleeper, but I would always sit up, nurse him back to sleep and put him back in his cot. Sometime in the New Year, just after he turned one a combination of him having an ear infection, and utter exhaustion on my part meant he shared a bed with me, while Robert was banished to the spare room. As of yesterday we have finally admitted this is something we don’t have the will to deal with right now and I am looking for a second hand bed guard. It would be remiss of me not to mention the fact that the ‘spare room’ is in fact our ‘study’ with a shitty IKEA chair bed, so neither me nor Robert win here. I won’t get into an ill-advised debate on sleep training here. As I said above, we’re all just trying to do what works for us. It does help me deal with being knackered though, when I think about trying controlled crying and realise it’s still not for me, and that yes, I am tired, but it’s still my choice. By the way, he is napping (in his cot) as I type this. Monkey.
This post was brought to you by:
Cheese on Toast with Lea & Perrins
Tea, delicious, life-sustaining tea