Reflections on Breastfeeding

I am grateful that my little one got over “mama” (mom’s breast milk) so quickly, even though it is still a big deal for me, emotionally.

As I was reflecting on this wonderful bonding gift that I gave myself and my son, I spotted this article in the I found it because the local radio stations made such a big deal out of it : Salma Hayek breastfed a malnourished African baby while visiting Sierra Leon. The article above links to the actual video. Most commenters agreed that it was so beautiful and natural, but of course to the westernized world this is such a big deal. One commenter even mentioned the dangers of cross-breastfeeding. In Middle Eastern and Islamic culture the practice is not so unusual. So much so that there is a degree of kinship resulting from breastfeeding in Islamic tradition.  A woman who breastfeeds a baby becomes “a mother by nursing” and the child becomes a sibling “by nursing” to all her biological children because he or she was fed from the same breast.  Children who nursed at the same breast are not allowed to intermarry even if they are not biologically related.  I find it interesting that Islamic tradition recognizes the importance of nursing and the kinship that result from it, especially if  you consider that the same culture does not recognize step-brother or step-sister as a valid relationship.

In my family I became a little bit of an oddity, because I breastfed Robert for almost 18 months.  The Islamic tradition recommends two years until weaning, but in my mother’s days the practice was in sharp decline. It was considered somehow less than modern to extend breastfeeding beyond six month. Yes, there were those moms who nursed for much longer, but they were mostly uneducated housebound moms from conservative religious families. I do not know what the practice is like in my birth country today, but it has returned to favour in the west or at least here in South Africa. Even in my playgroup I was not the only mom who chose to extend breastfeeding. Salma Hayek is still breastfeeding her daughter at 12 months, so I am not such an oddity, I am glad.

In the past 17 months I enjoyed almost every aspect of nursing: the closeness, the bonding, and the carefree relaxing time with my son. I failed, however, to appreciate what it physically endowed me with: A perfectly womanly hourglass figure. In the absence of their primary function my breasts have shrunk to their pre-pregnancy size, and I realize with dismay that I am very small, blast that.

Check out this funny video of Salma Hayek in a talk show, talking about insecurities on this particular issue.

Weaning… Who is suffering most

The night of the 7th February was the first night I let Robert sleep without the nightly comfort of breast milk. I know that I have been procrastinating on weaning for very long, but I maintain that I had my reasons.

During November Robert was frequently ill and was not interested in any other food or drink, and in December I was trying to build up his strength. During January he formed a very close attachment to me after the long school holidays, and up until last week the act of nursing was a great way to ease my guilty conscience over working long hours and abandoning him for two full days at the creche while I interpreted on a movie set.

But recently I became convinced that his need for this comfort has diminished. Twice last week he went to sleep with the bottle and instead of nursing him we cuddled and I tickled his belly until he fell asleep. But when he woke up during the night things were not as amicable. He insisted loudly on “mama” and cried inconsolably for a long time. I had a difficult time balancing between my loving instinct and my rationality. I managed to calm him down with loving talk and he resigned himself to drinking from the bottle. As Robert suffered his withdrawal symptoms, I had a terrible attack of guilt and sadness, while the neighbors suffered with insomnia I think, having been awakened in the small hours by a crying toddler.

As early as the next day Robert was open to gentle talk and convincing. He seemed to listen when I told him that “mama” was only for little babies who cannot eat or drink anything else. But as he went to sleep I was stricken with melancholy. I realize that my boy is growing independent of me and I will never recover this special closeness again. Two years ago he was still part of me, and yesterday I was still nursing him, but today this is one more thing he does not need from me anymore, and one day he will not need me anymore. I know it is stupid to think that way, but I cannot be rational all the time.

Today I am more concerned with the physical suffering from weaning. I had to express some of my milk to relieve the pain. A friend once told me that African women who are trying to stop lactating throw the milk they express against the wall. The popular belief is that if a woman disrespects and rejects the milk in this manner, her body will stop producing it. Maybe I will try this method if things do not improve, but I am a firm believer that my body will adjust naturally,  and there is no need for African superstition or western medication.

Robert has taken the transition in his stride, and does not ask for “mama” anymore. At sleep time he cuddles up to me and drinks from his bottle. He has even taken to calling the bottle “mama”, ungrateful little rascal.  So it seems that I am permitted to call these part of my anatomy my own again.  Their curiosity value to him is now only a little more than a pair of  “iya” (ears).  I am relieved of course, but still slightly wistful. I doubt whether I will have the pleasure of nursing again.

A bonus of the weaning: Robert does not wake up as often during the night. In fact he sleeps right through. I should have known that my watery milk is a poor substitute for rich full cream cow milk. Another reason to breathe a sigh of relief.

Seventeen Months

My baby is growing into a toddler and his personality is developing rapidly. The re-introduction to school at the beginning of the school year was much easier, but I hope his health will not suffer much this time around. Today I had a scare when the school supervisor called me to fetch Robert because he was not feeling well and had a fever. As I walked to the school I was so despondent and unhappy and started seriously thinking again quitting work. It is really not worth it to make my little one suffer in this way.

Robert’s father is now working full time and I cannot rely on him too much for looking after Robert and even the situation with my nanny Lucy seems a little tenuous as her employer(s) do not like her to come and help me out even in her off time, so I really did not know what to do. When I arrived at school my spirit was somewhat lifted when I saw that Robert was fine and I did not feel that he was feverish. His teacher told me that he perked up as soon as he heard that I was coming to get him. I don’t know what could have been wrong this time, the adverse effects of teething should be gone because his fourth molar cut already last week. He has a little bit of a runny nose but I am hoping that this time his body will fight it out, we will wait and see.

His teachers at school say he is always busy in class especially pushing the little chairs around. This is his favourite activity at home as well and it is quite unpleasant for me and my next door neighbor when he starts at it first thing in the morning. Also I am noting his increased independence; the daycare encourages that, for example at snack or meal time the children sit in on little tables and chairs and start feeding themselves. Robert is starting to get good at eating by himself, but I can still tell what he had for lunch by examining the stains on his shirt. He also insists on “brushing” his teeth on his own. I usually start out the proper brushing then I leave him to bite and suck the toothbrush for a few minutes.

Robert’s verbal skills and his diction continue to improve. Instead of Naah for no he now says noo, it sounds quite cute like a little kitten miau. I still speak to him primarily in English but I encourage German vocabulary sometimes whenever I feel he is receptive.
The most obvious advantage to his growing verbal skill is his ability to tell me what he wants. He names the books he wants me to read “oppodi” (Opposites) and tells me that he wants “gam” (jam) or egg.

It is interesting to note also the way he perceives things and people. His father told me that he exclaimed “dada” when he spotted a picture of George W. Bush in a magazine. I am surprised that my ex even mentioned the story to me because I am sure he was not impressed. I cannot ask Robert why he made this comment but maybe he sees his father as an older person who is not too bright.
One morning he watched me write his name with a marker on his milk bottle and sippy cup as I was preparing his school bag. I pointed to the writing and said Robert, and the next thing I know he surprised his father by pointing to the writing and saying : “bobbet”.

Another area of marked improvements from previous months, is Robert’s appetite. He eats regular meals and does not snub his food after the first bite. The experience of feeding him is still quite messy, because he loves to try feeding himself, and explore the texture and substance of food with his fingers, but most of the food ends up in his stomach rather than on the floor and the furniture.

One thing that I am still procrastinating at seventeen months, and this might come as shocker to my family, is complete weaning. Robert still has a nightly breast milk dose and sometimes he wakes up twice for a little sup.  I believe that it is time for him to move on, but I do not have the heart to go through with it. For one I still enjoy the special loving connection of breastfeeding and secondly I find it easier just to give in to his demand at night, rather than tolerate his prolonged crying. I think I should get some backbone and be firm about it, I do not want to break any records on extended breastfeeding.

Starts, Stops and Stupidity

I recently read an article on Babycentre about extended breastfeeding and it calmed down my increasing feelings of guilt at my lackadaisical approach to weaning.  Most of the time I am letting Robert drive the process, and I have no intention of covering my nipples with chili sauce to put him off – which is a remedy I vaguely remember from the less worldly mothers of my native country. Robert is actually very mature about the whole thing, he rarely requests to be nursed during the day and I have managed two nights in a row to put him to sleep without resorting to the comfort of breastfeeding.  I feel comfortable that weaning will take place sooner or later, perhaps even before the end of the year.  A month ago I managed to reduce breastfeeding to nightly sessions only, but then his prolonged sickness was a setback; breast milk was the only food he wanted, and it was the only thing he was able to keep down when he had the stomach bug.  Today I am having another setback because I am suffering with an incapacitating flu (yet again), and breast milk is an easy meal to offer when mom is bedridden.

I believe my frequent bouts of flu are intimately linked to my emotional and mental state. The flu hits when I experience an emotional setback, a conflict at work or a disappointment, this weekend has witnessed two such incidents.

I guess I am not so lucky after all, the black cloud that my ex husband purported to float around my head is still very much there. Never mind my near miss with the cell phone; On Friday I lost my wallet for the second time in two months. Since this follows so closely on the heels of similar incidents, I can hardly make any excuses except for perhaps stupidity, confusion and absentmindedness.  I mean this is now the third time that I have something fall out of my pockets (from the same shallow-pocketed pants I may add) but I never really took notice of the problem until now. Well, not many people are this dense.  In the aftermath of the event I made a quick google search with the sentence “I always lose my wallet” and all I got was writings from party animals and people who generally get themselves too intoxicated to remember what they did on nightly revelry, let alone where they lose their wallets in the process.  Ah well, shit happens I guess.

My bad wallet jumped out of my pocket early Friday evening somewhere en route on Sea Point Main Road, and I only noticed its absence early on Saturday morning when I was getting ready to go to work.  I was too frustrated to go to work and I actually phoned to get out of it but a very nice Duty Manager was on the floor in the morning and she asked me to try my best to get there and I couldn’t say no. Lucy did not have any small change to lend me for the taxi and I do not have a change box at my little flat, so in the end I picked up a two-Euro coin and used it for my transport. At work my friend the Duty Manager gave me some money to tide me over until Monday when I will be finally able to go to the bank and get a new bank card.

The day progressed like a normal day at work usually does, no disasters, no major happenings. As I was ready to leave my Team Leader indicated that he wanted to speak to me for ten minutes about my quarterly review.  The review was encouraging, despite the fact that I made one serious mistake involving the transport of Dangerous Goods, and another less serious one which resulted in a complaint from a customer airline. I also had two incidents of late comings recorded during the time; it is hard to punctual when I depend on public transport and the early arrival of my nanny, and things easily spiral out of control when anything else goes wrong.

As I was leaving the little man from productivity planning, the star of my previous woes with the work schedule showed up. He had apparently been putting in extra time on this Saturday to prepare the shift roster for January. I went to get my copy and was unable to believe what I was seeing there. After all the trouble and the degradation I went through trying to explain to my situation to management, they put me again on flexible shifts, working afternoons as well as mornings.  I think I went straight to the little man and showed him my schedule, and he gave me a puzzled and uncomprehending look : “this is what I had” he muttered, and the only thing I could do was retort : “You guys are really funny, you know that?”. I just walked away, trembling with my pent up rage, and the desire to strangle and trample the blond cretin.  At the water cooler I bumped into a colleague, who pointed out to me the futility of getting mad and letting my mouth run away with me, whinging only as I usually do. He put into my head the idea of filing a formal grievance, which I definitely intend to do.  I cannot even begin to describe my feelings of utter rage at the incompetence and inefficiency of the people who plan our working schedules.

My worries about this recurring problem made me forget momentarily the problem with my wallet, and in any case my cards were safely canceled by then and there was nothing left for me to do other than casually ask at some of the places I passed yesterday, if anyone had handed in a wallet. At the first Supermarket I asked, there was strangely enough a wallet but it wasn’t mine. The fact that people seem to find things and hand them in, encourages me to ask further. I do not like it because it makes me relive my stupidity again and again (every time I ask) but I hope that the exercise will be humbling enough for me to learn a useful lesson.

Robert’s dad brought him home at three, and he was burning up with fever, presumably the side effect of his MMR vaccination, so I was caught up with this problem for the rest of the night.  Sponge baths and suppositories absorbed me with wallet and work forgotten for while. However I still managed to email my incompetent management to ask about the scheduling; my tone in the email was not as poisonous as I felt. I am saving all my wrath though for the grievance letter which I have started to work on.  Another battle for the walking wounded… life can get too interesting sometimes.

Twelve Weeks: Quiet Times

I am still working to solve the riddle of a breastfeeding-working mother. Operating the manual breast pump turned out to be a no-brainer. I certainly don’t need to invest in an expensive electrical one. This, however, remains only one small part of the whole puzzle, as Ron correctly pointed out. I still haven’t figured out how to store breast milk and how to manage pumping at work. For once I tackled the problem by going directly to the source and asking for what I thought best, without second guessing what management might or might not approve. I wrote work and asked for two month of unpaid leave after the official end of my maternity leave.

The email went out to my supervisors last week, where I stated my request and suggested a meeting to discuss my situation. The week passed without any response and I had to call today for a fellow up, and my supervisor scheduled a meeting for Wednesday the 28th. I don’t have a feel for what their response might be.

Robert’s latest developments: Bringing his hands together, and folding his thumb between his fore- and middle fingers. In terms of appearance: More fuzz is sprouting on his head, and his eyebrows are starting to get some definition. They are still very fair, but I think they will be the thick variety inherited from mom.

We got into the habit of taking him into the kitchen during dinner preparation. He sits quietly and watches us, listens to the noises of pots, pans and clinking cutlery. We introduce him to the various smells of cooking and spices. He is unfazed by the strong smells of onion and garlic. In fact, I think he likes them. His responses to the different fragrances are interesting, and being our son, he must be used to the smells of curry and ginger, and the taste of them from breast milk. As he gets older and less fussy, I am less stringent now about my diet. I have stopped worrying about eating cauliflower, but I am still keeping away from cabbage. My mom warned me against green peppers, which I have avoided during the worst colic periods. Now I do eat it in salads, and it doesn’t cause problems to either me or Robert. In all it looks like things are settling down, and all three of us are starting to enjoy longer sleeps at night.

Two Months

Today we reached another developmental milestone in Robert’s life. At two months he is blossoming into a cute and very aware little fellow. In the space of one month he changed from an unresponsive little blob (no offense meant) into a tiny human being who reacts and interacts. If we pay attention carefully, we can easily detect his likes and dislikes, the way he calms down at the sound of his dad’s voice or starts getting excited at the sight of a toy, or at the sound of the running water for his bath. We can tell that he is now that he is watching, listening and taking his whole surroundings in. The pictures we take of him these days show him frequently smiling, as most of the time he is happy to see us and to respond to our smiles. His level of activity is also increasing; he loves standing upright (supported of course), and then he can carry his weight for a few second on his little legs.

To celebrate the occasion of Robert’s two-month birthday we took him on a long walk. Two of the churches in our area were holding summer charity bazaars, and we thought we might find something for him there. Unfortunately we were only able to leave the house late in the morning, and therefore there weren’t any exciting offerings left by the time we made it to the bazaars. We had no success either at the second hand charity shop; the books there were of nostalgic value, but will be terribly lacking for the education of a little guy in the 21st century. The final stop on our tour had to be the bookshop, where we bought Robert a little picture book of farm animals, which I had earmarked earlier as a possible present. Robert was asleep throughout the walk as usual, but he had his photo shoot on our return home.
With two months gone since Robert was born, my clock is also ticking. My maternity leave ends in just over two months, and by then I should have concrete plans in place. My ideas on this next stage are still vague, and I have this image of myself continuing to breastfeed and having an easy schedule at work. I know however that this is wishful thinking, things will be difficult for all of us once I get back to work. During the next few weeks I need to do some research, and ask other working mothers how they solved this problem. Like every other breastfeeding mother, I got terribly attached to the time I spend nursing my son. I feel privileged to be able to provide him with nourishment. To watch him thrive as a result, is pure bliss, and I would hate for this special time to come to a premature and abrupt end, before Robert turns six months. I have read in my baby book about breast pumps, and to me this looks like a solution that will enable me to continue breastfeeding exclusively for the recommended six months. It looks good on paper, but I have to find out if it is practical.

The process of planning the next stage is complicated further by Robert’s unpredictable schedule. He still feeds erratically, and his sleep times also aren’t always consistent, especially during the day. And as his alert times become lengthier he is also getting more prone to over-stimulation, which in turn leads to afternoons of irritability and over-tiredness. After today’s long outing, we were in for one of those.

Back at Birth Weight

I slept until nine this morning, after a rough night with Robert. This meant that I had to start feeding immediately then rush him into the bath, because we had to take him for his second assessment at the Well Baby Clinic.

All this rushing did not help much because we had a long queue in front of us at the clinic. There were many babies and kids of different ages, most were really large and chubby. Robert looked so tiny in comparison. The nurse’s room was crowded and noisy, and I got nervous of the long wait. That is why I immediately started getting Robert ready for weighing and measuring, while sister B was still busy with the patient ahead of us in the queue, and I made the mistake of prematurely taking off his nappy. This, inevitably, resulted in an accident, for which I was ill prepared. My nappy bag contained a spare nappy and an undershirt, but not a complete change of clothing. Fortunately his outer clothes were only a little bit wet.

Sister B did her quick check-up. She said that the navel was healing fine, and pronounced the acne on baby’s face as normal. She also gave me some advice on dealing with gas, and recommended colic drops. Robert’s weight gain was still on the slow side for the second week running; 160g this past week, which means that as of today he has only regained his birth weight. The nurse advised me to make sure that he was getting enough in every feeding, by draining one breast, then switching to the second near the end of the feed, so that baby gets both breasts in every feeding.

It was good to know that baby was okay. Even the discharge from his eye, which is a result of a blocked tear duct has cleared up by itself. His weight gain was within the lower range of what is considered normal, but I was still worried about the quality of my milk and my ability to continue breastfeeding. Ron jokingly suggested that we might need to put Robert on the bottle, but I did not find it funny. From today I started tracking baby’s daily feeds to make sure he gets enough feeding sessions. Tonight we woke up twice for feeding; it was very cold, and the south easter was howling.

More Presents for Robert

After a small respite of warm weather on Sunday, the weather man predicts another cold front on the way. The forecast until Saturday is bad, and there is still no spring in sight.I got an SMS from my friend Jackie around noon today. Robert was asleep at the time, so it was one of these rare occasions when I could come near my phone. Ron was at the gym, and I was catching up on my emails and blog. Jackie wanted to know whether she can come for a quick visit and I told her that this was a good time. We had a good chat over tea; I showed her the pictures of Robert from the hospital, and she told me about her new job which she was due to start on the 17th of this month. It was a good opportunity to catch up on news and gossip, as we haven’t engaged in our girls-only chats for a long time. Jackie also brought Robert some presents from her mother, nice rompers for summer, and his first noisy truck, which I suspect will become an annoying background noise sometime in the future.

One of my milestones for today was going to the Supermarket for the first time since I had Robert. Armed with my cell phone, I left the apartment during his nap, and went straight to the shop, zipping quickly through the aisles, to return exactly half an hour later. In addition to the regular staple foods, I managed to buy steaks for dinner and some sweets- a couple of chocolate coated oatmeal bars, and a small carrot cake.

Back at home I had a shower and removed the plaster tape around my incision. The incision was healing nicely on the outside edges, and the skin has knitted together well. However, the middle had shallow flaps, little open flaps in between the stitches. I was not impressed, because it seemed that I will be left with a tiny ridge of skin around the area. Ron commented that Dr. P. will definitely not qualify as a plastic surgeon. My belly was shrinking slowly but I still had to get used to its new shape; now I had an additional fold of fat right above the incision, as if the skin was stretched over a garden hose I wore around my hips. It is a small price though to pay for my little bundle of joy.

Robert was easy to work around today because he settled into a regular schedule of three-hour naps in between feedings of one hour each. He is slowly turning into a greedy feeder, and I am still dealing with the consequences of his hearty appetite on my sore breasts. However, it is a relief that he is over his hunger cry fits. He also went to bed promptly at dinner time, giving us the chance to have a peaceful dinner and enjoy tea afterward with carrot cake.

One Week

It has been a week already, and we are now beginning to get used to our little boss. He passed the stage of being an angel and a miracle, and now I realise he is a small infant with enormous demands; a handful.

Yesterday (Sunday) he started marathon feeding sessions that lasted up to 2 hours each, and I had very little time to do anything else. Thanks to Ron, though, I still got a chance for my first solo walk on the promenade. It was a warm afternoon and I timed the walk carefully to last 30 minutes, which means 15 minutes of brisk walking then heading straight back. All of the time I was anxiously watching my cell phone and expecting a call or an SMS from Ron who stayed at home to watch the sleeping Robert. In the evening it was more of the same: non-stop feeding and only five hours of sleep, and of course I ended up being very sore indeed.

The main dilemma for today was on which side to feed Robert; I mean, which breast is less painful. I had a sample of nipple cream in the goody bag from the hospital, and I used it liberally after every feeding. I also tried to talk Robert out of pulling, gumming or useless suckling and convince him of proper latching and sucking instead, this of course was easier said than done.

Ron fared a little better; he went on a hike towards Lion’s Head, and came back fresh and energetic, to cook us some soup. I had the baby hanging at my breast the whole time. When he was not feeding we tried to keep him entertained. Today he sat in his car seat with us on the veranda, and listened to the noise of the traffic, which should be familiar to him by now.

I was very exhausted by the end of the day, and luckily Robert gave me a little bit of a break, his hunger cries were less frequent during the night, waking up every three hours, so I managed to accumulate six hours of sleep in between feedings.

Cold but Happy Spring Day

I think Robert and I are beginning to work out the kinks in this breastfeeding saga. Every time we changed his diaper today there was a mighty big package, and he is a much happier baby. He is also latching at the breast correctly with much less fussing and moaning, I am starting to feel a little more confident about this.
Today is a spring day in South Africa , but there is no sign of the season yet in Cape Town . It is raining and cold, and I am still wearing my sweater, fluffy slippers and fluffy socks around the house. The feeding at night is complicated because I have to put on many layers of clothes before I answer Robert’s calls.
At midday we decided that it was time to give Robert his first bath. There was nothing against it since his weenie is now fully healed. His umbilical stump hasn’t fallen off yet, but according to the modern literature we read, there is no harm in bathing baby with the stump still intact. The bathtub I got from my friend Britt makes bathing the baby a little less intimidating, as it has support for the body and the neck. The baby sits in a kind of reclining chair, formed around his body, so there is little danger of slipping under the water. Still, it was somewhat of a challenge for both of us, and Ron got a little impatient with my slowness. “You have to work quickly with the baby” he always says. My rationale is that if I work slowly there is less chance of mistakes or accidents. Well, two people can have different approaches even when they are a married couple. In the end we did not break baby, and the bath was completed. However, it was too close to call whether it was baby or his parents who found the episode more unnerving.
This morning Ron and I also took turns waiting in a telephone queue. Yes, we had an unresolved query with our ISP, and had to contend with listening to their recorded message: “We are experiencing a high volume of phone calls, please hold. Your call is important to us”. It carried on endlessly, and unfortunately every time we got through to a “human being” on the other end of the line, we were transferred somewhere else, and we had to repeat the whole story all over again. In the end Ron managed to resolve the issue. Apart from waiting on endless phone queues, there was the added stress, because Ron had to reconfigure the internet access on the hardware and software side. He wore his IT guru hat for a few minutes and got it all done without difficulty, but before that he had to behave like an IT guru for a while and get us all very nervous and apprehensive of the gargantuan task.
In the afternoon I got a phone call and a greeting from my friend Britt. She was on her way to the Cape Winelands with her husband and the two little girls. I had a vision of them in the big car, with baby car seats and bags bulging with diapers, formula, and everything else. I thought to myself it will be a while before we have the nerve to venture anywhere outside the city. Heck, at the moment I still had to find it in me to venture outside the house.
As it happened, today was the day when I actually did venture outside the door for a few minutes. In the evening I went to the 7/11 at the bottom of our street and bought the Saturday Paper. At about six in the evening I had just put baby to bed and Ron was preparing dinner. I am starting to learn now that I have to move quickly when baby is resting, because their time of shut-eye is the one small window of opportunity for me to sleep, eat, shower, or escape. I put on my raincoat, which I could easily zip around my waist this time- and went into the wet and darkening evening breathing my freedom for the first time. I skipped down the steps unburdened by a pregnant belly, and bounced down the hill. Ron and I rarely buy the Saturday Argus because it is big and bulky and has three huge sections of property ads, which we have no use for. Today however we had to buy it because it has Robert’s birth announcement. It was one of the free services offered by Cape Town Medi-Clinic which we took advantage of.
My outing lasted for only ten minutes, and I was back at home after that. The walk up the hill was a little laboured, I would have thought that I would be able to run up the hill as soon as I gave birth, but it looks like I have to give myself more time to recover and get fit. Ron and I had our first quiet dinner together. It was a delicious chicken curry with spinach, coconut rice, and carrot salad with ginger and sweet chilli sauce. We enjoyed every bite. If baby is going to carry on this pattern, then we are very lucky. He is a very good baby.
Pocahontas was the early Saturday night movie and for once we were both interested enough to watch. I always thought Disney movies were great fun, but Ron usually has hardly any patience for kiddies stuff. I cannot help but think that having a little baby in the house is already changing our personalities. I had to smile when Ron said that Disney movies were educational. The tiny fingers of baby Robert are casting their spell on our hearts.