Just a day before this little Squish turned six months, Beard and I decided to start giving her solids.
Basically because the night before she was yelling at us while we were eating dinner, which I can only assume mean “Look, people; I’m hungry, too. Feed me.”
So, we started with some solid foods.
The first taste of avocado went well, and then carrots went okay.
Soon, though, Clara started to dislike solids. About a day or two into eating solid foods, this poor girl would scream bloody murder every time I would try to put a spoon into her mouth. If she got some food into her mouth, she seemed to enjoy the taste, and she would swallow.
But then resume screaming.
Now when I say screaming, I mean, her sister was looking at me as if to say, “Seriously, Mom; can’t you stop killing Clara?”
I’m worried my neighbors may think I torture my babies.
But I don’t. It was just sweet potatoes.
Sheesh.
Anyway, the last couple of days we have given poor Clara a break from solid foods.
(Read, I graciously re-welcomed nighttime feedings into my life.)
The Squish seemed to do fine, until tonight. We were sitting down to dinner, and Clara couldn’t take her eyes off of Madeline’s pizza. So I thought I would give the solids another shot.
I had most of a serving of zucchini in the fridge, so I heated that up a bit for Clara, and she gobbled it down.
Score! I thought, she was hungry.
And then she looked around for more food, so I heated up a cube of sweet potatoes, in hopes that I might coax her into something more substantial to keep her feeling full longer.
Clara took maybe a spoonful from me, then refused.
So I went out on a limb: I put an ample amount of sweet potato on the spoon, then handed it to her. That little Squish loved it. She got a little in her mouth, a little on her forehead and in her hair, some on the wall, some on her stump.
Stuff was everywhere.
But I didn’t care. She was glad to be eating.
Of course, I should probably stick to only feeding Clara solids once a day for a while, so as not to overwhelm her. She gets frustrated and emotional quickly.
But now I realize the trick that I hadn’t seen before.
Sometimes, as a mother, I have to relinquish control of my children’s lives to them. With Madeline, it has been mostly recently, with the “terrible twos” quickly approaching. I hadn’t anticipated this kind of demand for independence with Clara, but I have a difficult time denying it. If this little Squish wants to feed herself, far be it from me to deny her.
I can only hope I have the patience and self-restraint to allow her these necessary freedoms on things, years from now, that are more crucial.
