I like food. I'm generally a fan. Food is so many things to so many people: A way to occupy your hands while catching up with a friend; a way to nourish yourself; a way to indulge when you had a bad day. (Read: Chocolate cake.) But in thinking about it as a step towards my little baby boy's growing up, food can be a b*tch.
When my daughter (now 4) was "ready for solids," I was so excited. As a first-time mom, you want each of these steps you read about and see your friends post on Facebook to come to you (so you can post them of Facebook, clearly). They are exciting, fun, challenging, high points. They are big steps!
You wait for these big milestones. You read books about them. You agonize over every part. It's exciting. You write about them in the baby book... three months later, when you actually find it.
But with my second child, I see these milestones as lightning-fast speedballs that mean my squish ball is growing up. I want to keep little, whereas I couldn't wait for my first child to get big.
My son is now 5 months old. At this point, his poor sister, who had horrible reflux, was on the solid express for a while (with the Facebook pictures to prove it).
At my son's recent check-up, my doctor asked if he was ready for solids. I immediately answered "NO!" Afterwards, I realized how old this baby had snuck off and become... the nerve.
This time around, my poor little second child CAN'T be almost ready for solids because he just can't! He's too small, he's too young, he's too little, and he's too... Wait -- where did I put him...? Oh riiiight you kind of forget about your second kid, right?
This was taken at our compulsory monthly photo session in the same spot on the same chair. No, I didn't get the onesies or stickers. You know I rock it old school.
I look at this picture and have so many thoughts.
How is he 5 months?
We just saw the "+" sign.
I was just pregnant.
He was just announced as "a boy!"
I just heard that newborn cry and it was coming from my stroller.
And his teeny tiny toes.
And his little "bald spot of neglect" from constantly sitting in a bouncy chair while I braid his sister's hair, her dolls hair, then find her headbands, then help her dress up like Rapunzel, then re-do her braid from pulling the costume over her head.
Wait, where did I put him again?
See? I'm clearly not ready for my tiny baby to be eating solids. I mean why doesn't he just up and get himself a little man job and support a family already? Picture him sitting on the train and reading the newspaper. His legs wouldn't come to the end of the seat. He would have sensible little glasses that he used his flexible spending account to get at the end of the year.
On a side note, he wore a collared shirt last week. He looked like a Regional Sales Manager. Someone gave him a belt. Ha! His pants fit lengthwise in his drawer without folding them in half.
He likes to hold my nose while I nurse him.
If you'll note the crinkles in my nose. This kid is S-T-R-O-N-G!
Sometimes he waves his little hands slowly like he's conducting a beautiful symphony. Sometimes he punches me in the face -- hard. I don't mind. He gives a hardy belly laugh when I bite his tummy. He's so fat I could eat him. Those little Augustus Gloop cheeks. He is so little. He is so cute. He looks like me. He started gurgling. He sounds like a baby bird. His eyes are still blue. I love the amazed smile he gives me when he realizes he is doing something new.
He found his feet. There's no getting them away when he's playing with them. When you tickle them now he looks confused realizing they are attached.
He's going to have a wife one day. She probably won't like me. They'll move to Jupiter City or another place far away that Future Magazine says is the best place for outdoor adventure sports. They'll go because she'll be into them. And he'll follow her because she's pretty. I'll see him once a year. I'll remind him he used to pull my hair towards him to "kiss" me and then giggle. He'll roll his eyes and go meet his friends at the Future lounge where they serve locally-harvested organic astronaut ice cream and 100% recycled post-consumer waste Hoverboards.
So clearly, HE is not ready for solids, doctor. He is just a zygote.
Oh no... He's starting to look at us chew...
Oh no... He's starting to mimic chewing...
Oh no... He's sitting himself up...
Oh no... He's pulling my plate towards him...
Oh no... He's pulling my husband's beer towards him! (At least I can use the law to say he has 20.7 years to go for this one)...
So.... sweet potatoes anyone?
Where is that article that says to wait until six months.... Loophole! Bazinga!