Hungry eyes, fantasize

I'm not one to dish out advice, but in this instance, I think I have some that might be of use. When questioning whether it is time to introduce your little one to the Mighty Mushy Stuff, revert back to the Gospel of our generation: Dirty Dancing. With Patrick Swayze in mind, ask yourself: does Baby have hungry eyes??

We realised it was time to give Frankie a bit of 'nah-nah (banana, for my non-native speaking friends) when she quite literally started panting like an overly-excited German Shepard every time we ate with her sitting on our lap. For example, my partner was happily licking away at his Mango Weiss Bar when Frankie defied her own age-appropriate fine motor skills to reach up and pull the icecream away from her daddy and shove it forcefully into her mouth. What followed promptly was a contented 'hmpf' as she flicked her little tongue furiously in all directions. We stared open mouthed at this creature: only 4 months old and already ready to feast. Atta girl, Frankie - chip off the old block.

Looking back, I think we could have spotted the warning signs sooner if we had been prepared for them. But I  had been so confused about when to move on from exclusively breastfeeding that I had buried my head in the sand about the whole issue. And it's not like the parenting books are universally aligned with their recommendations and suggestions. It seems that mothering tips go in and out of fashion like haircuts. Currently, you are advised that you can introduce a baby to solid food from 4months on. But only a generation ago it was advised to stick solidly to breast milk until the 6th month at the very earliest.

Still, I should have introduced food sooner given that Frankie hadn't put on weight for six weeks. The doctors and nursing sisters told me she looked perfectly healthy and there was nothing to worry about because a lot of babies will plateau in weight for a while. I followed their advice and never even thought about giving her something more substantial! God, what a div....

After the "shove-daddy's-food-in-my-mouth" experience, we immediately gave her the good stuff. And just ten days of being on Farex, banana, apricots, nectarines and pear, my little waif morphed into a cherub and put on a whopping 400grams. Delightful.

As Frankie takes her first tentative steps into the world of real food, I mourn yet another loss of the girl she once was. There goes her complete and utter dependence on me. Granted this dependency had sometimes felt like an anchor weighing me down but now I question whether there is anything so natural - or wonderful - as a newborn baby's dependence on her mother? Here she goes, taking yet another of her big girl steps forward and I have a sneaky suspicion that with each achievement and milestone reached, a little part of me will miss the stage that has come before...