Tomorrow Zane is headed to the Doctor's for his 6 month checkup. After the appointment Ryan will call and say, "You were right, he does weigh 80lbs." Ok, I'm exaggerating, a little bit, but the repeated heavy lifting with "Mommy's Magic Shoulder" is making me lopsided. I'm totally cut but only on one half of my upper torso. And when I say cut I mean cut, like Madonna without the scary veins kind of cut. I'd switch shoulders but the other one isn't magical. Just ask Zane, he'll tell you. Only one shoulder will do for him!
We'll also get the ok from the doctor to start introducing solids. Solids, being anything other then (that-truly repugnant-not-a-food) rice cereal they push on everyone. Whoops! Too late.
We should have held out. There's something sciencey about an open digestive system and stuff, but the critter was getting absolutely distraught at not being allowed to share our meals. He wanted food, BADLY, and there's only so much begging Ryan and I can take. (Yes, he did actually beg. He made these small grunting "gime" noises, INCESSANTLY. We have tons of practice ignoring begging here at the Suburban Farm. Believe me, you would have caved too.)
However, under no circumstances were either of us willing to sit and shovel puréed goop into his maw. We skipped the mushed up mash, and the rice slime, and the chunky dog food looking stuff in the jars and went straight to finger foods.
Genius! you say. Yes, but it's not our idea, it's Baby-Led Weaning.
The underground movement started with a paper by Gill Rapley and has become more mainstream now the book has been published: Baby-led Weaning. The idea was introduced to us by our friend Bethany, who's a pretty smart chick and used this method with her son. (Thank you Bethany!!! You have changed our lives in ways you can't imagine!)
Baby-Led Weaning in a nutshell: you let the kid feed himself.
You don't spoon anything into his mouth, you don't mash food up past all recognition, and you don't have to worry about how much he's eating. You just cut things up so they have a handle (they say chip sized, but they're British so think steak fries) and let him play. If he eats some great! If not, no big deal he's still getting all his nutrition from the boob (or can, if that's what works for you.) Eventually he'll eat more food and drink less milk, weaning himself off the white stuff altogether.
So far Zane has eaten (well, gummed and swallowed) everything from peaches and avocados to bread and pasta. His favorite foods seem to be steak (grass-fed of course) and yoghurt WHICH HE FEEDS HIMSELF, WITH HIS OWN SPOON. He eats what we eat, we don't make special meals for him. (Ok, we do cut his food special and pull stuff out of the pot before we add epic amounts of seracha sauce, but he's still mostly eating the same dinner we are.) We never have to worry about packing special food when we leave the house or what to do when we're out at a restaurant. It's fantastic.
There is a small side effect. One of the things you learn from the book is the difference between gagging and choking. Zane has not choked. Not even once. I do admit, despite the evidence to the contrary, when watching him eat I am constantly afraid at any minute he's going to turn blue. In learning to eat Zane watches us chew and swallow and does his very best to mimic our actions - this includes "Mommy's Eating Face." While I watch him happily munch his food, selecting out which bits seem tasty, in between smiles and contented sighs, he looks gravely concerned right back at me.
We'll also get the ok from the doctor to start introducing solids. Solids, being anything other then (that-truly repugnant-not-a-food) rice cereal they push on everyone. Whoops! Too late.
We should have held out. There's something sciencey about an open digestive system and stuff, but the critter was getting absolutely distraught at not being allowed to share our meals. He wanted food, BADLY, and there's only so much begging Ryan and I can take. (Yes, he did actually beg. He made these small grunting "gime" noises, INCESSANTLY. We have tons of practice ignoring begging here at the Suburban Farm. Believe me, you would have caved too.)
However, under no circumstances were either of us willing to sit and shovel puréed goop into his maw. We skipped the mushed up mash, and the rice slime, and the chunky dog food looking stuff in the jars and went straight to finger foods.
Genius! you say. Yes, but it's not our idea, it's Baby-Led Weaning.
The underground movement started with a paper by Gill Rapley and has become more mainstream now the book has been published: Baby-led Weaning. The idea was introduced to us by our friend Bethany, who's a pretty smart chick and used this method with her son. (Thank you Bethany!!! You have changed our lives in ways you can't imagine!)
Baby-Led Weaning in a nutshell: you let the kid feed himself.
You don't spoon anything into his mouth, you don't mash food up past all recognition, and you don't have to worry about how much he's eating. You just cut things up so they have a handle (they say chip sized, but they're British so think steak fries) and let him play. If he eats some great! If not, no big deal he's still getting all his nutrition from the boob (or can, if that's what works for you.) Eventually he'll eat more food and drink less milk, weaning himself off the white stuff altogether.
So far Zane has eaten (well, gummed and swallowed) everything from peaches and avocados to bread and pasta. His favorite foods seem to be steak (grass-fed of course) and yoghurt WHICH HE FEEDS HIMSELF, WITH HIS OWN SPOON. He eats what we eat, we don't make special meals for him. (Ok, we do cut his food special and pull stuff out of the pot before we add epic amounts of seracha sauce, but he's still mostly eating the same dinner we are.) We never have to worry about packing special food when we leave the house or what to do when we're out at a restaurant. It's fantastic.
There is a small side effect. One of the things you learn from the book is the difference between gagging and choking. Zane has not choked. Not even once. I do admit, despite the evidence to the contrary, when watching him eat I am constantly afraid at any minute he's going to turn blue. In learning to eat Zane watches us chew and swallow and does his very best to mimic our actions - this includes "Mommy's Eating Face." While I watch him happily munch his food, selecting out which bits seem tasty, in between smiles and contented sighs, he looks gravely concerned right back at me.