I generally give Henry his breakfast between 9 and 9.30, which works pretty well with his usual milk feeds, which we are (slowly) reducing. Sometimes our social and not so social schedule gets in the way so I was looking for something he could eat on the go… enter raspberry porridge fingers. I threw these together as an experiment and they went down a storm, so I thought I’d share… I know, I know…I’m too kind.
- 1 cup of oats – I used jumbo oats and blended them a little to break them down.
- 1 cup of milk – I used whole milk
- A handful of frozen raspberries
- Preheat the oven to 180 degrees and line a 15cm square tray with greaseproof paper.
- Combine the oats and the milk in a bowl.
- Bash up the raspberries to break them down (this is why I used frozen – things are kept much less juicy)
- Stir the pieces of raspberry into the milk and oat mixture.
- Scoop out the mixture into the baking tray and smooth over.
- Bake for 30 minutes and leave in the tray to completely cool. They can then be sliced into fingers.
I froze my batch and I just defrost them in the fridge the day before I need them.
So there we go! My first recipe. Do you have any baby friendly grab-and-go breakfasts?
I’m a very
nosey curious person, and if someone tells me not to do something I feel an overwhelming compulsion to find out for myself why I’ve been given such advice – when told not to touch a hot plate in a restaurant, wet paint signs…& has anyone played the ridiculously annoying but equally addictive ‘Dumb Ways to Die’? I ALWAYS get caught out with the switch you can’t flick.
Despite being warned of the horror of soft play, I had to see for myself. So last week, Hen & I went with my lovely friend Becky & her impossibly cute baby Rory to our local centre. I stepped though the door to be met by a huge queue of excitable children, in front of a gate containing what I can best describe as a primary school reenactment of the Battle of Hastings. If it hadn’t have been for Becky smiling at the other side I’d have ran for the hills.
What enticed us there in the first place was the promise of a separate area for 0-3’s. What I naively imagined was a room of soft mats, soft cubes, maybe a musical instrument or two and a ball pool. What we found an enclosure resembling the set of Fun House being overrun by boisterous children who looked suspiciously over 3.
Nevertheless we sat with our boys in the then empty ball pool amongst hundreds of very sticky balls trying desperately to stop Henry licking them. The presence of the babies seemed to attract the older children like moths to a flame, and before we knew it all chaos had descended. Balls were everywhere, being thrown, sent up one of those vacuum things they send money up in supermarkets, to then be launched from a height at the push of a very sticky button. Completely at the mercy of our ball pool comrades who were clearly not feeling the team spirit. Sensing we were about to be overrun we made our escape. I think we lasted about 20 minutes.
After a my harrowing experience, if you are going to brave soft play for the first time with a pre-walker I would recommend the following:
- Don’t go. Foam mats are fairly cheap on Amazon.
- If you must go, don’t go in the school holidays. It might also help to go in the late afternoon so you can come home, get baby to bed and calm your nerves with a gin.
- Only take your baby in quiet areas, and exit quickly if older children enter. I haven’t checked, but I’m pretty sure barging children out of the way even when they barge you out of the way is against the rules.
- Refer back to point 1 – I won’t be making a reappearance at soft play until Henry can fend for himself.
Tom Daley started Rio 2016 pretty well, winning a bronze medal in synchronised diving 10-metre final, but bombing out in the 10-metre solo. This was pretty similar to our Friday night.
It started out full of promise, we were having steak for dinner and a film lined up but went rapidly downhill from there. It took twice as long to put Henry to bed as normal, and then he lasted 30 minutes before waking for the first time, when he bit my nipple -the first time I’ve ever been glad to be a part time breastfeeder because my left boob was in agony until Saturday morning – this was 8.30pm. At 9.30 I gave up and went to bed myself. By 6am I’d been asleep for a grand total of 50 minutes. Thank goodness for Carl who spent his last hour before work on baby duty and of course, my good friend Nespresso… I wonder how many customers Nespresso have gained who were non-coffee drinkers before becoming parents? A fair few would be my guess.
Anyway…I spent much of the morning walking around like a zombie until naptime when I did the sensible thing and made ‘healthier’ cookies and porridge fingers for Henry (which went down a treat – keep your eyes peeled for a recipe.) Then my lovely mum came and let me have a nap and cleaned my kitchen – it was like the newborn days all over again (although my mum often whips the bleach out when she comes – anyone else’s mum do this?!)
The culprits of our sleepless night can now be confirmed to be two bottom teeth. After weeks of speculating, this morning I noticed that they have split the gum so they’re definitely on their way. Hopefully the pain will ease for him now, I hate to think of Henry being uncomfortable *sad face*.
So the weekend was pretty much a washout, which doesn’t make for interesting reading – sorry about that, but you know… real life. Although if it happens again next weekend I’ll be tempted to make something up…
P.S. The silver lining for my very sleepless week was my ability to do lots of one-handed commenting & I was the top #KCACOLS commenter last week – yay! I read some great posts and discovered some lovely new blogs!
On the flip side of last week’s post where I talked about choosing spending time with my baby rather than tackling my could-rival-Everest ironing pile, today I want to shake off the guilt I feel when life takes over…
Not pictured: Henry in his chair of neglect.
It’s ok to get stuff done.
If you’re a regular around these parts you’ll know it was Henry’s christening on Sunday and, clearly forgetting that I now have a baby to entertain, decided it would be a great idea to make his cake.
Henry is currently working on his crawl, so his current favourite activity is rolling around on the floor, shuffling commando style causing as much mischief as a seven-month-old can possible cause. The weekend’s activities meant that Saturday was largely spent baking and cake decorating, leaving Henry to watch on in his bouncer until his Daddy finished work and took him for a walk. I spent Saturday evening feeling tremendously guilty that I spent all day baking a cake ‘for Henry’, that he wasn’t even allowed to eat, and very little time playing. Funnily enough, I also felt guilty after his christening that he’d spent much of the night awake and his intense FOMO gave him little opportunity to sleep during the day that the whole day probably wasn’t the most enjoyable experience for him.
My mum made a good point that ‘getting stuff done’ is part of life, and Henry needs to learn that, and he also needs to be able to play independently. With that in mind, occupying a baby in a manner which leaves my hands free once in a while is nothing to feel guilty for. Hopefully it will actually teach him a little about the not-quite-so-fun parts of life.
I thought I’d start to shake things up around here and I’m calling upon YOU to share your #mumguilt stories. If you’d like to feature as my first guest please get in touch – firstname.lastname@example.org
20 weeks pregnant
Although I couldn’t be happier to have Henry bringing me immeasurable joy every day, as I approach the anniversary of my 20 week scan I’ve found myself becoming all nostalgic for the nine short months spent growing my beautiful baby. Here are my favourite things about being pregnant:
- Eating all the food. Stuffing your face with carbs and not having to worry about looking bloated, being able to blame your fifth cookie on cravings and playing the ‘eating for two’ card when you feel like eating two lunches. Winning.
- Naps. I’d never been much of a napper, but while I was pregnant I took advantage of every napping opportunity. On the sofa on a Sunday afternoon, in the car, when I didn’t feel like making tea….I’m also aware that I won’t have the same napping opportunity if I’m lucky enough to bear another child.
- Maternity clothes. A lot of people don’t enjoy maternity dressing. I did. It’s a valid excuse for new clothes when nothing else fits and jeans that are as comfy as pyjamas. What’s not to love?
- Feeling my baby wiggle was the best feeling, even better when I could see a limb make its way across my tummy.
- There are no awkward silences. Everyone always has something to talk to you about and a million questions to ask – although admittedly not always appropriate. The most common being, ‘was it planned?’. Why does that even matter?!
- No one wants to be the person who upsets the pregnant lady so you get your own way ALOT. I managed to not only wangle a new chair at work, but I was also taken to Staples to pick my own chair. That was a fun afternoon.
- Watching the fleeting expression of sheer horror on the face of someone who asked a pregnancy related question when I began my answer by fibbing that my bulging stomach was the result of a large lunch. Hilarious! As a sidenote – if in any doubt as to whether someone is with child, DO NOT ASK. There is a waitress in Sheffield who will probably have thrown away an oversized shirt this week after my good friend who shall not be named did not follow my aforementioned advice.
- The excitement of the unknown, of finally meeting the baby you feel like you already know looking forward to the months of maternity leave ahead, still naive enough to think of it as ‘time off’.
- Buying stuff. I love buying stuff and a baby needs a lot of stuff.
- My husband also managed to wangle us a free room upgrade on our last pre-parents city break. See point 6 – no one wants to upset a pregnant lady.
Did you enjoy being pregnant? Do you have anything to add to this list?