Showing posts with label baby food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby food. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Alicia Silverstone, January Jones, World Hunger and Man Milk

You know, Mrs. Buckman, you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father. – Keanu Reeves (Parenthood)

As a relatively brand new parent I fairly certain that we’re all quirky and weird. As a child, our parents are gods and goddesses. Parents are all knowing giant adults who can do no wrong (and of course, my dad can beat up your dad). To their children they are living legends and heroes. As daughters get older their parents transform into “jerks” and as sons get older their parents transform into “whatever”. They’re teenagers and they know it all. Obviously.

Now that I’m the parent I understand that being ‘all knowing’ and a ‘living legend’ is more akin to ‘deer in headlights’ and ‘bizarre’. Children are little experiments governed by a variety of oddball parents, some who are fantastic and wonderful, but many of whom have no business raising and educating children. These ‘parents’ most of the time do their best to keep their quirkiness quiet but occasionally they reveal themselves in public, to the public.

As many have heard, bizarre actress and mother Alicia Silverstone recently posted a unique feeding video on youtube for the world to watch. In a quite surreal detailed blog post and totally wild video the star of Clueless (great movie) takes weird and creepy to a whole new level. I understand mashing or blending food for a baby so they don't choke while learning to swallow. I understand cutting food into smaller pieces for toddlers to prevent them from choking. But chewing food for my kid and spitting it into your youngin's mouth? What the hell? I hear she's a big animal activist and even named her kid Bear, but you've got to draw the line somewhere. I found the line quickly. It's right there next to SPITTING CHEWED UP FOOD INTO YOUR TODDLERS MOUTH FOR THEM. That's my line.

For Bear, it's just plain lazy.

It also looks like Alicia is making out with her son.

In other news January Jones ate her placenta. Yes the Mad Men actress had a baby via divine intervention (she's not telling who the baby's father is, cough cough home wrecker), but I'm more intrigued in her fat suit on Mad Men, is it makeup or does/did she really look like that?

I'm sure it's makeup but dear lord does it look wild! I digress.

Although this has been accepted by many people and cultures, eating your placenta blows my mind. Maybe it's Strange's pronunciation of her perfume "AfterBirth" in the film Boomerang? Maybe it's my strong aversion to blood and mucus? Maybe it's the concept of transforming something hospitals label as a bio hazard into Andrew Zimmerman's next quick lunch, or the secret ingredient in Iron Chef Extreme Doula edition (A La Cuisine! as Morimoto looks at Bobby Flay in shock while Kat Cora gets to work!) It simply does not sit right with me.

Many people swear by the purported benefits of ingestion of the placenta. Despite the liverish looks, organ-like texture (I'm assuming) and unique smell, the placenta does feed the baby until birth, and if ingested by the mother may help stem postpartum depression, help contract the uterus, and promote mother-child bonding. Mothers who chose to eat the placenta don't need to devour it via fork and knife on a bed of greens as placentas can be swallowed in pill form after the fact.

Although I am not a mother, I just cant grasp the appeal of a placenta meal and/or the the uncomfortable possibility of accidentally forgetting your 'doggie-bag' in the communal lunch refrigerator. Remember to ALWAYS label your leftovers.

In other news there are freaks who aren't famous. A teacher at a nearby school reportedly (by my anonymous source, yes, I have sources. ;) stunned the teachers lounge recently with a revolutionary new strain of bizzaro! This groundbreaking practice in freakdom was incredibly well intentioned and focused on abolishing world hunger. Apparently, in order to save the world we all should take estrogen supplements.

The estrogen in her mind will allow all the women AND MEN in the room to begin lactating. Once brimming with estrogen, and the philanthropic horde of full breasted teachers have begun lactating, they can pump, bottle their collective finds and ship them to Africa to hungry children.

I'll just let that sit in for a second.




Got it?





We just solved world hunger via man milk, a movement of lactating grandmothers and small boobed male gym teachers with nipple guards and breast pumps. That could very well be a world I would love to raise a child in.... ehh?

Yeah, mind officially blown.

Lets stick with the lactation theme.

When Sarah was pregnant we attended a number of baby classes. Lamaze and Breast Feeding were the main ones. The breast feeding class was at 8 in the morning and I had an awful time sleeping the night before (not at all related to the breast feeding class). Our teacher, a nurse from the 1700s invented breastfeeding and due to this fact, was very knowledgeable in every aspect of the art of breastfeeding. Unfortunately I was exhausted and accidentally slipped into a brief nap the likes of which most men save for Shabbat morning services.

Sarah politely nudged me awake after what I thought was 8-12 seconds but apparently I was out for much longer and now found the lecture/interactive discussion group had moved into extraordinary directions. Margaret Sanger was explaining a story about a man with a newborn trapped on a raft at sea. The newborn was starving, but with no mother or bottle the father could not comfort the child. After some time the man allowed the baby to suckle on his nipple to give him some sense of ease. Due to the unique situation his body began to produce a type of milk and satiated the newborn. They were on the raft for several days until they were rescued and although they were both dehydrated the MAN MILK was able to keep the newborn alive!

At first I thought I was dreaming because no one in the class seemed to bat an eye at this story. Dudes were writing in their note pads. What were they writing?!?!?!?

Dear Breastfeeding Diary, I don't know why I'm taking notes but uhhh, if trapped on a raft for days without my wife I can create my own Man Milk to save my baby. I'm going to be the best dad! The End.

Really? So no comments from anyone in the class? No one thought this wasn't the craziest thing they ever heard! I was in shock. I had three things rolling around in my head.

1) WTF
2) Jeff Goldblum's Chaos Theory Speech (yes I'm a big dork)
3) But mostly Stewie

And luckily I haven't had to test the prevailing opinion that all men can create the coveted MAN MILK.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Baby food, baby poop, and baby monitor fun

Poops officially stink. After seven and a half months of unpleasant textures and physics defying explosions, Manya poop has taken on a whole new dimension: smell. And by smell I mean stinky. Stinky smell goes hand in hand with solid foods. As you can (maybe) see here:

Not sure if the video worked...

We've had a little issues with Manya's willingness to attempt and accept the gum and swallow method. After numerous attempts she has gotten enough down to warrant a gas mask and goggles during diaper changes. Simply put, if I change a diaper with socks on, the elastic loses its elasticity.

The other bodily function that has progressed - or should I say recessed - is farting. The decibel level of baby farts was one of the most surprising things of newborns. Like a fog horn, a loud toot signaled to the entire block that a diaper needed to be changed. I feared the power fart was a quality unique to Manya and may last her entire life (yes I understand my brain has issues and my fears are dissimilar from any normal father) but once I heard the cacophony of noises other newborns make I was put at ease.

All of these progressions are due to the beginning stages of solid/pureed foods. The numerous techniques to get her to take a bite is a whole other story.

Have you ever while trying to show you baby how good a mouthful of pureed squash and breast milk can be, accidentally shoved a spoonful of pureed squash and BREAST MILK into your own mouth?!?!?!

Yea, me neither.

Ever made that mistake three times in one day?

Subject Change: Hey lets see a picture!

Cute ya think?

Where were we? Oh right, moving on...

Like most parents we like to spy on our child while she sleeps. The reasoning behind the spying may have something to do with being raised in the Reagan Administration but most parents seem to share the extreme paranoia we get when we can't see our child at all times. If a baby is making noise we complain that they need their rest. If a baby is silent, we're afraid they can't breathe. This insane paranoia increases ten fold if a child has a cold or a slight fever. It's illogical, it makes no sense but I swear especially during the first three months Manya was alive, I checked her breathing at least five times a night. Who am I kidding? I checked her breathing three times last night.

In order to hone down our paranoia, we gratefully accepted my Aunt and Uncle's offer to give us their Summer Infant Night Monitor which they used to spy on our child's namesake. Due to the fact that this particular monitor was used to spy on multiple generations of Manyas we have dubbed said device, "The Manya-nitor".

This is the Manya-nitor in action.

If there was ever a doubt as to whether or not the baby will be spoiled, this is where the baby goes during meals at grandma and grandpa's house.

Baby on a pedestal.

Just wait until she's able to say "G'ampa, I 'ant dose toos!" or "But G'ama, peez, I 'ant dat!" We're screwed.

Chillin in the couch

Monkey time on iPad

Friday, March 23, 2012

Introducing baby food and sleep regression

Murphy's Law. I talk about the great sleeping patterns of my infant and BOOM! random shitty sleep schedule. As I searched through the internets, learning about the numerous first-hand experiences with "7 month sleep regressions", it was apparent that:

A) Sleep Regressions occur at any and all times. 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, ect. There is no rhyme or reason.

and B) Parents have no control, we are at the whim of our babies. But this does not mean that we don't attempt with all our might to trick ourselves into thinking we have control.

Sure there's plenty of books and PhDs and studies and more bullshit but you really have two choices with a baby who doesn't want to sleep. You can either let the baby control you and thus have a spoiled child who may or may not have deep rooted issues due to the fact that they didn't fall asleep alone at the tender age of 210 days and now rely on Momma for comfort, or turn your heart to ice and let that little bundle of joy turn into a red faced, swollen, hysterical tear face crying uncontrollably in the nursery until they pass out from exhaustion while you attempt to distract yourself by watching TV at a slightly higher than normal volume (aka full) and your wife sobs outside the nursery door clutching her bleeding heart. (Now that's how you do a run on sentence ladies and gentlemen, eat it Hemingway!).

Guess which one we did?

We spoiled our baby.... kinda. To put it in perspective, Manya is a great sleeper. When she goes down in her crib, she's down for the night and will be asleep until 7-8 in the morning. Her issue began when she didn't want to be put down in her crib despite falling into a deep sleep elsewhere (variety of places). The second her bum grazed the crib sheets, the eyes would pop open with disgust and disbelief while simultaneously screaming at me for my insolent transgression. It was ludicrous and frustrating.

We attempted Dr.Weissbluth's very popular and recommended sleep training but after a while it simply felt like premeditated torture. Each night we attempted the crib several times and after several failures, brought her into our bed for co-sleeping.

I know, we're silly hippies. First cloth diapering and now co-sleeping. But honestly, she slept 'like a baby' in our bed and it was pretty great waking up next to my two girls each morning. Mind you they take up the whole bed and push me into the corner, but I'll accept their selfishness because they're cute and smell wonderful. Manya would sleep between us, soundly, but if I happened to get within striking distance I would absolutely be woken by a jarring slap to the face or a quick hair pull. Some things never change.

For the past few days we have transitioned her back into the crib and things have returned to a relative normal.


Or at least blended and pureed smears of color. Continuing with our hippie theme we are making our own baby food and basing our food strategies on two books. Cooking for Baby and Mommy Made and Daddy Too!.

We began the introduction to solid foods as all parents do with fabulously (not a real word) boring rice cereal which reminded me of a cross between the food we will have to eat in the Matrix and the insides of Bishop in Alien. Manya ate it with the reverence of paste. We then introduced a new puree every three days starting with the infamous stalwarts; bananas, yellow squash, apple sauce, avocados and sweet potatoes. Many infants love eating and regularly open their mouths wide for new tastes and the wonderful nutrients that accompany these fascinating explosions of flavor. Manya finds it much more enjoyable to wear each new food across her cheeks, lock her jaw shut and occasionally blow a spoonful of puree into her respective parent's clean face and wardrobe.

I liken the introduction of each new food to an tamer version of the Fox Network hit show Fear Factor staring man's man, Joe Rogan. Manya's appalling disgust for bananas and avocados would make you think we were feeding her bug larva and stink bugs. When the first full spoonful of avocado entered Manya's mouth she transformed into Nicole Richie. Her eyes sunk into her face welling with disgust as she repeatedly gagged while aptly balancing a hefty smear of green avocado on her tongue. Nutrition is fun.

As parents it is our duty to transform into fools during feeding time. We mistakenly believe we can 'trick' our children into opening their mouths so we can quickly slip a covertly hidden spoonful of mush past the guardian lips of doom. Little do we know but babies also believe in "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me" so now not only am I wearing the 'food of the day' but I am also singing songs and dancing around like an asshole for no apparent reason because the now learned child can transform a full belly laugh into a sealed vice in a blink of an eye. Ironically aside from prying open the baby lips, preforming the Fools Dance is my only hope. It's humiliating. Every day I transform into an episode of Dancing with the Stars but look more like a dancing monkey in North Africa (maybe Casablanca?) without the skill set to pick pockets, back flip or climb quickly.

She does eventually eat some of the food, it just takes a little longer than if she was eager to get the food anywhere near her mouth and not just all over the room. On another bright note, at least her poop still doesn't smell yet.

This is the look for all aspiring baby chefs