More on weaning

Well, it is kinda taking over our lives…

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Weaning – how’s that working out for us?

Fig has been trying solid food properly for about ten days now. By properly, I mean in a more organised and concerted way than we were doing when we started. He was pre-six-months then, so it was just a case of putting a few cucumber sticks in front of him every now and again and seeing what he did with them. Actually, that was really useful, because it gave him practice in picking up sticks of food, and he’s now a bit of an expert on that front. But we’ve been consciously doing a mixture of baby-led weaning and traditional spoon fed mush, and Fig’s really getting into it now.

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A quick word on Dr Brown’s bottles

This isn’t a very interesting post for most, but may be helpful for someone somewhere, as I couldn’t find anywhere online a simple yes/no answer to the question “Do the new Dr Brown’s Options teats fit the old Natural Flow wide neck bottles?”  So here is that simple answer: yes, they do.

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Sunshine on Lyme

The weather today was so glorious there was no way I was staying in, so I packed the obligatory baby backpack and Fig and I set off for one of the National Trust’s jewels, Lyme Park.

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Six month birthday

So much has happened in the last two months, to us as a family, and in terms of Fig’s growth and development, that it’s hard to keep track. The very thought that this little person, who is at the centre of every single one of my days, has only been with us for six months clashes head on with oh my god, he’s six months old already!  So I’ll crack open the bubbly, and he’ll crack open the milk, and we’ll cheers to his first half year.

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A walk through the northern industrial past

One of the things I love about the area I live in is its history: the landscape is littered with relics of the manufacturing might of the Victorian era. Like so many Lowry paintings, the hills and peaks of the northwest of England are punctuated with mills, factories and disused railways (many of which have been re-purposed as stunning cycle paths), and those views, where industry cuts black swathes through the countryside, are some of my favourite in the world.  It was once said that Joy Division’s music was the sound of exactly that, the meeting of the wild moors and peaks that dominate Ian Curtis’s home town of Macclesfield and the industrial clatter of nearby Cottonopolis (Manchester). So maybe my love of this landscape explains my love of Joy Division. On Sunday, Saul, Fig and I went walking along the river in one small Peak District town, New Mills, taking in the ruins of Victoria’s industrial England.

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