After a week of seemingly ravenous hunger on your part - no matter how often you were fed - Daddy and I decided it was time for you to try solid food. We were worried that you were still a bit too young, and that you wouldn't be ready. We could not have been more wrong.
Your first meal was sweet potato. Daddy and I feel strongly about you having good food, and we are going to make as much of your food as we can. On Saturday morning, we started the weekend with a girl's day out. We visited Centenary College for their Book Bazaar, and then ran some errands. You helped me pick out a sweet potato from Kroger's at our last stop for the morning.
When we got home, we microwaved the potato, and then blended it up in Daddy's mini-blender with a bit of water. And then, to be extra sure that everything was smooth, I pressed the blended sweet potato through sieve. As little as you eat, that one sweet potato should last for about 10 meals.
Finally, I thinned the puree with a little breastmilk, and we were ready. We put you in your Mizzou bib (fitting since Daddy paused the first Mizzou game of the year to video tape your lunch), and set you up in your high chair.
Not only did you grasp the concept of eating immediately, you were so enthused that you proceded to grab my hand as soon as the spoon got near, and help guide me to your mouth. It was hilarious. You seemed so excited, and were in an excellent mood for the rest of the afternoon.
While I loved watching you eat you first bit of big-girl food, I have to admit, I was a little bummed over the weekend. I am so proud of you - how much you have grown, how much you have learned. But the idea that you can now get your sustenance from someone else other than me is a little bit upsetting. In some ways, it almost feels like I have failed you in some way - that my milk can no longer give you everything you need.
Then I decided I was being silly - first of all, you're only going to have one big-girl meal a day for a while yet. And secondly, its my job to make you independent. Not that I planned on nursing you until you were five or anything. But I guess since Daddy and I are working so hard to help you become a confident, independent woman - I should probably get used to the idea that as each day goes by you will need me less and less.
I just didn't expect to notice it so soon. You are not quite 5 months old, and I am already faced with the idea that you won't be my little girl forever. And in so many ways, that is just devastating. How is it possible to feel both proud and sad all at the same time?