LB definitely just consumed some fromage frais. I loaded each spoonful and he grabbed the handle and put the business end in his mouth. Most of it went down his front in a sea of dribble, some of it went round his neck, on his head, under his chin, all over his fists etc. in traditional weaning child fashion, but I reckon a teaspoon or two went
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Oral feeding is genuinely a big thing. Being weepy is absolutely allowed.
*This is exactly as horrific as it sounds. No more, no less. Every other life problem for me will be measured against it.
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When I think I'm feeling tired on the current sleep regime, I remind myself of how utterly utterly exhausted I was in second stage labour with PB (falling asleep between the contractions) and that I still managed to push him out. That makes me realise I'm not actually that tired now. Doesn't necessarily make me feel any better, but at least gives me a sense of perspective.
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I've been thinking about food lately and how I think you absolutely can't extricate it from culture and pleasure (which may not sound like rocket science, but I've been mulling it for specific reasons that I may witter on about at more length when I'm not supposed to be working).
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I realise I've framed food as entirely a source of good things and of course it's not always. Especially if your resources for getting the type of food you want are inadequate or if your relationship to the whole complex of eating is less fun than a simple 'yum!' And one of the scary things about being a parent is not being able to be sure that your children will grow up having the good things you enjoy.
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