Balanced Diets are Over-rated

THEY are sweet, puree up nice and smooth, and gain a little something when steamed with a stick of cinnamon. Pears. The only food the Little Mister will eat.

It’s only since he was eight months that he has accepted any solids at all, so I’m not expecting him to be eating three balanced meals a day. But, I do wish he’d eat at least some savoury foods. Some days are better than others. Often in the morning I get him to eat some yoghurt and rice cereal with his pear. Other sweet fruits also go down quite well as long as they are totally liquidised and the main ingredient in that two tablespoon meal is still pear.

But should I try and mix in some meat or vegetables, he looks at me like I’m trying to poison him. Like I’ve betrayed him. Oh Little Mister, I just want you to eat.

I’ve tried finger food. Grated cheese, a bit of egg, a bit of bread, a bit of corn cracker, a bit of banana. Same result everytime. Gag, choke, vomit. The Little Mister isn’t ready.

So I wait. While his friends eat their lunch around him, we wait. I know all babies end up eating. I know the Little Mister is not starving – in fact, he’s drinking so much formula it’s quite the opposite. But on some days, like today, his total rejection of even a tablespoon of food makes me wish he could just tell me what I am doing wrong.

Then I’d make it better, he’d eat a balanced meal, and then we’d go back to playing toys. And crawling, and clapping, and waving, and trying to climb. Because all that stuff is way more fun than eating, after all.




I’m feeling rejected. I know the Little Mister hasn’t done it on purpose, but he has made me feel a little snubbed.

I’ve written here about having some success with food, but that was a one-off. In reality, the Little Mister still doesn’t eat anything. He’s going great with the formula, but when it comes to solids, he still doesn’t want anything I’ve made.

So, the freezer shelf is still full. I make up fruit-based purees, vegetable purees, cinnamon infused purees, expressed milk vegetable mashes – the works. I portion them up, carefully date and label them, add them to my colour-coded list on the freezer door, and put them away.

Each morning, I decide on a menu and defrost what I need to while he sleeps, getting ready, because today might be the day. I dutifully try and feed him breakfast and lunch every day, just as I have done for the past two and a half months. He continues to purse his lips, turn his head away, and flatly refuse to take the spoon.

I’ve just started reading the baby led weaning book, and I’m going to give it a go. I think we’ll have some luck with it. The baby on the cover looks a bit like Milin, and I think we’ve got the same high chair. This bodes well. The thing is, I’m yet to get over my nerves about choking and gagging. Perhaps once I’m a little further through the book though, I’ll be steaming up carrots and broccoli heads and handing them to my hungry baby with confidence. Maybe he’ll sit there, in his high chair, and smile at me before grabbing them from the tray, munching away at them, and demanding more. Maybe. But that’s down the track.

Today, mum, who is finally here from London, gave the Little Mister a squeezy pouch to hold. She helped him squeeze its contents into his mouth – which he opened. Voila. The Little Mister ate organic broccoli, carrot and sweet potato mash. From a plastic squeezy tube made by a machine in a factory. Then he ate some more.

I know I shouldn’t resent that there wasn’t any mama-love in that tube, but I do. I know I should be pleased that he ate something – anything – but I still feel rejected. I guess there’s always tomorrow. Maybe he’ll go off the squeezy tube and want a mouthful of home made goodness instead. Or maybe not.

Here he is – just before refusing to eat the breakfast I’d made him. Lucky he’s so cute.

No breakfast for me thanks, I’ve got rings and Sophie to chew on.