My appeal for any suggestions on how to encourage BB to drink more milk from a beaker than she does from the boob prompted some interesting results. Namely putting chilli on my nipples to ward her off. Apparently this is quite common in Melanesian culture, but quite honestly I was horrified. […]
Week one of starting to wean BB off the boob is drawing to a close, and I’m afraid to say we haven’t got very far. The ‘official’ advice in my books on how to go about it all seems to apply to babies under 12 months, and I’m afraid we’re a bit beyond that (BB is almost 18 months old). So I’ve ditched the so-called professional advice and decided to go about it my own way: starting with dropping day time feeds and offering her a beaker of cow’s milk instead. You’d think I was suggesting she drink from a poisoned chalice. […]
New glasses alert (pictured). I’m quite pleased with them, given that I could hardly see when I chose them thanks to the administration of eye drops 20 minutes earlier. BB quite likes them too. And even Misery Guts noticed a difference. But on reflection I’ve realised they’re the thin end of the wedge. This is the first pair of glasses I’ve bought in which practicality came first, style second. The two must-haves were: 1) Arms as thin as possible so I don’t have a blind spot when driving or crossing the road. Why do all the ‘fashionable’ frames have such thick arms? 2) Lenses as big as possible so I can see as much as possible. No more chic oblong frames for me. […]
It’s official: British kids are the fussiest eaters in Europe. So says the first European Toddler Nutrition Index, anyway. Apparently 43% of UK mums give in and let their toddler eat what they want during meal time battles, and 39% are most likely to reward good behaviour or eating well with a sweet treat. I read the article with growing horror: ‘Will you have mash on the walls or peas on the floor?’ The headline in Metro asks. Are they joking? Both, of course. ‘One in seven under-fives in the UK refuses some food at every meal time’, it goes on. I fear this is the correct term for what I call swishing, when BB takes one look at the food on her high chair tray and consigns it to the floor in one fell swoop. […]
Right, here we have it. Five (very good) reasons why it’s time for me to wean BB off the boob and wave goodbye to breast feeding: 1) There’s no question about it: more sleep! No more booby means that Misery Guts can drag himself out of bed, stumble across the hall and help deal with the little monkey when she wakes up at 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am… 2) No more toe stubbing. This has been a surprisingly regular occurrence in the shadowy small hours. Once what I thought was a stub was in fact quite a nasty collision between my little toe and the bed post, resulting in blood all over the sheets which I only discovered several hours later in the cold light of day… […]
While working on my promised list of 5 reasons to give up breast feeding (still a work in progress, by the way) I’ve been distracted by an email which pinged into my inbox: pork scratchings could be the secret to eternal youth. Quite a claim. And coming from my esteemed friend Rupert Ponsonby, who joined forces with chef Tom Parker Bowles (aka Prince Charles’ step-son) and food writer Matthew Fort to give birth to Mr Trotter’s Pork Crackling, I dismissed it as nothing but a shrewd move to flog more of their posh pub snacks. Or is it? […]
It is a truth universally acknowledged among breast feeding mums that the time will come to wave goodbye to boob and hello to the rest of your life. The only question is: when? For me, 17 months and 5 days since it all started, the end is nigh. By choice? Yes. How do I feel about it? Not sure. Hence my reason for starting this blog. When BB was born in August 2011 I was determined to breast feed come what may, and luckily for us we both took to it like a duck to water. In fact, it turns out it couldn’t have been easier. Time marched on, as it tends to do, and here we are almost 18 months later, still on up to six feeds a day. […]
I'm an award-winning blogger, author, wife, mum of four & freelance journalist. Not necessarily in that order! Join me as I navigate the previously unchartered territory of motherhood always safe in the knowledge there's a bottle of wine in the fridge...
