And so another trip to the Baby Weighing Clinic draws to a close.
A trip in which I received a literal pat on the back from the health visitor for maintaining Piglet’s centile, no less.
And then a metaphorical slap on the wrist for admitting that I sometimes (OK, maybe every day) feed him Organix baby fruit purees as desserts.
I can only imagine what the reaction would have been if I had said I gave him a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. WHICH I DON’T, BY THE WAY. What sort of mother do you think I am?
First it was “don’t you make them yourself?” as though buying a ready made puree was the comestible equivalent of popping a fag in the baby’s mouth “just so he could join in with the grown ups.” Oh sorry, I forgot, we are all supposed to be Surrendered Mothers now. I am supposed to be carrying Piglet on my back in an organic woven sling while I go out to tend the fields, whilst simultaneously teaching him how to count to ten in Mandarin and contorting myself into a yoga pose, before returning home for a nutritious meal of self-grown quinoa and organic goji berries.
Then it was “he shouldn’t be eating purees now. It’s time he fed himself.” This despite the fact that I had already pointed out that he ate the same food as me for his main course. Like, real actual food. Yesterday we had CURRY for Christ’s sake. And he feeds himself said curry, WITH HIS FINGERS. In fact, he wouldn’t even accept a spoon until last month, and the only reason he’s having any purees at all if because I’m so excited that he suddenly appears not only to like them, but to open his little mouth like a baby bird in the way that every other baby I have ever heard of has been doing since the age of six months. FINALLY.
The Buddha once said that the best way was the Middle Way, which would presumably mean that the best way of going about things is somewhere between Surrendered Mother and My Mother, who advocates jars of baby food at every opportunity, because “it never did you any harm,” and because it’s the best way to preserve the carpets. The again, the Buddha also abandoned his own wife and baby so that he could go and sit under a tree in the lotus position for seven years, so he’s no Penelope Leach himself. One simply cannot win.
Anyway, I came home and pureed an entire punnet of apricots. At least I made them myself.