I spent most of yesterday with Hadrian and this morning with Augustus. Babies, once they are of an age to smile and give kisses, are the most adorable and heart-warming creatures. I feel a sensation as if the dry shell around my old heart swells and cracks with love for them – I don’t suppose that’s what’s actually happening though – maybe one of you, more expert than I in anatomy, could advise. But I do love them and am enchanted to find that they love me. I stayed for lunch both days. Dilly is using a way of weaning Hay that seems to involve simply giving him pieces food to suck and taste, rather than spoon-feeding him purées. To start with, he didn’t actually swallow much but now can manage various foodstuffs. The latest thing is spaghetti. Up to last week he was mostly mashing it about on his plate, but now he’s using his four teeth to masticate it and then swallows. She says it’s loads easier and he enjoys it and is getting a far wider range of foods to taste. She does spoon-feed him once in a while, particularly fromage frais, which he very much enjoys. An advantage of the method is that, from the start, he’s eating pretty much what the family does, or as much of it as is suitable for him.
Out in the garden, we’re finally making preparations to construct the potting shed. I’m abandoning the small soft fruit garden, which has become dreadfully overgrown. The paths will be removed and the paving reused for the base of the shed and around it, and we’ll put the area down to grass. Jamie suggests planting bulbs so I can pick the flowers for the house but they cause no work, and maybe some small fruit trees in the future. I’ve got more kitchen garden than we need or than I can look after already. I do need to start work out there rather than just look at the neatly prepared beds, but I’m strangely disinclined at present. When I think what a keen vegetable gardener I used to be – maybe I’ve done it for too many years. I only really enjoy the early stages now, sowing seeds and raising seedlings. Weeds always grow faster than anything else, and I really hate weeding, which always seems like the garden equivalent of dusting, something unnoticed and unappreciated unless it isn’t done, whereupon it’s glaringly obvious that your work has been neglected. But I will get going soon, I didn’t grow veggies last year because the spring was so dry and I really did miss them. Having to buy everything just wasn’t the same. I have a childlike excitement at picking the first beans or courgettes of the year and love to plan a meal around home-grown vegetables.
There, you see. I’ve managed to kindle some enthusiasm. Blogging is very good for me.
Is Dilly French? Cos that’s a very French way of weaning, isn’t it? Once they can ingest anything tougher than milk, they get grown-up food.
I might have to reinstate my veg patch, which has been dormant for three years. Yes, blogging can rekindle enthusiasm. Thank you.
Babies, while in the floppy stage, make me nervous to pick them up. Tons of fun after they can hold themselves up.
Weeding as the garden equivalent of dusting is a perfect comparison.
The great thing about babies is that unconditional love they have. Make the most of it while you can, although I suspect grandparents hold on to that for far longer as they’re not the ones imposing rules.
One approach to weeding is to make yourself pick out, say, 20/50/*insert suitable number here* weeds a day and then stop. Or alternatively weed a square yard a day. Just enough to feel you’re doing something, but not enough to bore you.
And I never do house cleaning until I’m going to be sure of seeing I’ve made a difference. Dusting for the sake of it says you’ve got too much time on your hands.
No, she read about it. I never gave my children baby food, or children’s meals either, as far as possible. They ate what we did when we did, i couldn’t be arsed to cook twice and, although I wasn’t entirely a stranger to the fish finger, I didn’t believe in cooking down to them. Nor does Weeza.
To be perfectly honest, LX, whilst I do love to hold and cuddle a small baby, they’re quite boring if you’re looking after them all day, especially after the first few months when they’re awake a lot but not able to do anything much and want to be entertained – although there’s nothing better than making a baby laugh. Both our two are at the fun stage now, fortunately.
A lot more work than dusting of course, Martina!
I do love tiny babies. The first six months is easily the best. And, oddly enough, tinies seem to find a deep male voice reassuring. Doesn’t matter what you say to them. I usually sing to them (Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep seems to win their approval). Very unmanly of me, I suppose, but there’s something very satisfying about holding and communicating with a small baby.
My father had a sensible approach to growing veg – he planted enough so that weeds, pests etc could take their ‘share’ and he had enough left over for his use. He didn’t care what it looked like and only did what was needed to get his produce. I suppose he must have done some weeding but I don’t really believe it. Having lots of space helped of course.
I like babies until they turn into toddlers, then my patience disappears. But, I’m told once I have grand babies that will change. I’m enjoying the break.
As for gardens, yep. Totally agree with you about weeding and you’ve seen the size of my garden. My change in circumstances means that I will be able to enjoy my garden this summer and I’m really, really looking forward to that. Glad blogging could be of assistance.
In any case, the chooks like you weeding, don’t they?
Babies love Weeza and gaze at her. Her theory is that she has a pale face and so her dark brown eyes catch their attention. I love babies too, but if you are looking after them all day, I find the 3 month stage – well, a bit boring, I have to admit.
The chooks love it when we weed. They will be shut out of the kitchen garden, along with the rabbits, this summer though. And I’m rather with your dad, Bilbo, but it has to be admitted that the veggies can be overwhelmed by the weeds.