Food Week Day 5: Hank’s menu on childcare days.

Don’t ask me about Day 4, y’all. Life, job, intervened. But I’m so excited about the discussion going on on this here lil’blog about food–fascinating, helpful, and fun. Keep it up, please!

This semester, Hank goes to child care Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. He’s been at the same in-home childcare since September, and we *love* it. His two caregivers are amazing and he has a particular bond with one of their young sons that is so sweet to observe. The group is small and has a good mix of infants and toddlers. Hank is the youngest (though not the smallest), and he seems to enjoy watching the two-year-olds run circles around him. There is a so much more I could say about his childcare situation, and perhaps I will in another post someday, but the point of this entry, in keeping with “Food Week,” is this:

I don’t know what they feed him at childcare and I don’t care.

Sure, I could ask where they post the menu, which they of course do, as they are licensed and on the up-and-up. I’m sure they mentioned to me where it was when we first started there, but again–I don’t really care. If J, one of his caregivers, happens to mention that he liked something or didn’t like something when she’s chatting with me at pickup it’s not like I tune out. But if she doesn’t mention anything about food that day? I don’t ask.

I don’t ask about what he eats, or how much he eats. I take vague notice of how many empty bottles come home with us, but I don’t even know if he drinks the whole bottles or if some gets dumped out.

I remember some conversations between myself and J and E, early on, about what foods he’d had and what he hadn’t, but I’m just going to admit right now that I don’t get worked up about potential allergies. Sure, halfway into a new food I’ve asked myself whether Hank’s cheeks were looking so red a moment before. I’ve played the “a touch of the winter chap or LIFE THREATENING ALLERGY!?!” game a few times. But after a second or two of looking closely at those almost always splotchy cheeks, laziness the sense that “I would know if anything was wrong and there is no use worrying about it” prevails.

Sure, I mostly follow the food-introduction guidelines (he doesn’t get peanut butter cookies OR honey with his tea, for instance) but I also mostly distrust them. Because, um, there are no set food-introduction guidelines that I know of. Other than peanut butter and honey, I’m not exactly sure what’s on the DANGER! list. I’ve heard berries? But we gave Hank raspberries before we know about that, and I think blueberries don’t count… Tomatoes and citrus seem to be on the “avoid” or late-intro list, but that’s an acidity thing, I think? I guess I know five people that are really allergic to tomatoes… Dairy is one of those things that pediatricians usually regulate for you–and depending on your doc, you’re given the go-ahead somewhere between 7 and 12 months. Though I’ve heard some docs and families wait until later. We were given the “yogurt after 9 months, milk after 12 months” recommendation by our doctor, but Hank’s childcare compatriot who is a week or two older has been drinking cow’s milk for months. Shrug.

Oh, and can someone tell me what the deal is with eggs/egg whites? Based on what I’ve seen/heard/lazily looked into egg whites are both on the DANGER!DANGER! list with peanuts and, at the same time, scrambled eggs (white and yolk) can be listed as great first finger foods. This shit is exhausting. I care about my kid, I really do. I’m a dedicated parent. But this food thing? Is often BORING and TIRING.

What guidelines do you follow? Does your pediatrician give them to you? Are they in a book? What book? A website? Which website? Because, true of everything having to do with babies and/or parenting:

Nobody, no expert, no tradition, no MIL or neighbor, agrees on SHIT when it comes to feeding babies.

Back to childcare.

J and E have four kids of their own. The oldest is in her early 20s, their youngest just started elementary school. They have been taking care of other people’s children for I don’t know how long. In other words, they know what they are doing.

When Hank was eating only purees, I provided them along with his bottles of breastmilk. They provided baby cereal and would give him mashed food if they were feeding it to the other children. But once he started finger foods beyond banana and avocado, they have provided his food, and once we started him on dairy, there wasn’t much to communicate about. I drop him off. They feed him stuff. I pick him up. It is FUCKING TERRIFIC.

Not having to pack up and label containers of food with his name, the date, the food type, in addition to the same deal for all his bottles? Not having to try to jam everything into one insulated lunch bag with a freezer pack? Not having to give up and pack two lunch bags? To bring glass and plastic containers back and forth constantly, inevitably losing lids? To be running the dishwasher near constantly as it fills up with wee jars and containers and icecube trays and food processor parts in addition to the never ending rotation of bottles? I LOVE IT. And of course, not having to prepare food in as much volume is nice as well. Just worrying about meals at home is glorious.

I’m fairly sure he’s eaten things at childcare we’ve never given him at home. I’m fairly sure he’s eaten things I’d be too scared to offer him. I’m fairly sure he’s eaten things on various “DO NOT FEED” lists. I’m sure some days he doesn’t eat much at all and others he stuffs his face. But I don’t ask.

I worry about enough at home. I don’t need to worry about if he had a good eating day or a bad one at childcare. And if they fed him something I haven’t yet, I’m not worried. If I notice hives or something, I can always give them a call.

What happens at childcare…well you get the point.

So, Hank’s menu, Tuesday-Thursday of this week:

Breakfast: Hank’s eating “schedule” is different for at-home days and childcare days. We nurse twice in the mornings before leaving for childcare, right away upon waking and again about an hour later. If Henry wakes up around 5 or 6, he has breakfast as well. If he wakes up around 7, he is not usually interested in breakfast before we leave. Tuesday: skipped breakfast. Wednesday: apple sauce mixed with oatmeal cereal (the powdery baby kind). Thursday: oatmeal cereal mixed with water and breastmilk, apple sauce served separately.

Morning Snack, Lunch, Afternoon Snack: [god bless letting other people raise your children]

Dinner: Tuesday: let’s clean out the freezer! Add one cube of very freezer-burned frozen pureed peas to one cube of frozen pureed sweet potatoes to some rice steamed days ago and stored in the fridge, plus a tablespoon or two of water to fluff the rice back up extra fat and soft. Microwave. Hmm. Smells…unappetizing. Put the tiniest pinch of salt and the teeeeensiest pinch of sugar in it. Just enough to give you more confidence in placing it in front of your infant, not enough to make you feel bad about adding needless salt and sugar to your infant’s food. Dinner is served! This was a night where the strategy of re-offering paid off. Hank would not eat this “mixed vegetable risotto abomination” for the first half of dinner time, so I gave him some cottage cheese and some “nutritionally void air snacks” (cf. jana) to get him more interested in eating. Then at some point I threw some more risotto on his tray, and BAM he was interested. I ended up dumping the bowl out on his tray and letting him shovel it in by the fistful. Wednesday: We made a last minute detour to my Mother-in-Sin’s after picking him up from childcare. He had some store-bought peach-apple sauce there. When we got home, later than his normal dinner time, he was begging to nurse so we skipped dinner. Thursday: hasn’t happened yet, but have I mentioned that we need to go grocery shopping? I think there are a few ounces of carrot and potato mash left. Baby Daddy super-steamed some green beans yesterday, so I’m sure I’ll spend some time watching Hank drop them off the side of the high-chair and end up letting him binge on cottage cheese. You know, AGAIN.