Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts

Monday, July 28, 2008

Moo Moo and Boo Boo: Musing on Mothers

I have learnt many things this weekend. Primarily, that even though your little baby boy is occasionally nicknamed 'Boo Boo,' his lactating mother DOES NOT appreciate the nickname 'Moo Moo.'

Secondly, if the flammable methane generated by the three-week old could somehow be harnessed, America would end it's petrol crisis overnight. We discovered this because yesterday, the Hulme household was hit by a whole different kind of 'gas crisis.'

Wifey threatened to give up all sorts of foodstuffs to help eliminate the problem. Meanwhile, I did lots of research into why babies get so gassy from their mother's milk.

Anecdotally, many mothers have observed that when they eat gas-inducing foods, like Broccoli and other vegetables, their babies get gassy as a result.

However, this commonly accepted 'fact' apparently has no basis in science whatsoever. The body metabolizes food before it's turned into milk, so whether Mum's milk originated as broccoli and sprouts, or a ham sandwich, the actual milk itself is identical. It should (according to the books) have no effect on baby's digestion whatsoever.

This isn't true of all food, though. Mothers are advised to avoid alcohol while pregnant and moderate themselves when breast feeding, since alcohol enters the bloodstream and, as a result, gets transferred (at a much reduced percentage) to her milk. Therefore, baby would benefit from more than just the nutrients and celery if Mummy had an early-evening Bloody Mary. He could get bombed off it as well!

Caffeine has a similar effect. It can be transferred to baby through Mum's milk. The curious this about caffeine, though, is that baby reacts to it cumulatively. If Mum drinks one cup of coffee too many one day, baby might not react. If she repeats the next day, there still might be no effect on baby - but on the third day (and the third excess cup of coffee) baby's system will suddenly react as if Mum had gulped down three cups of Hot Lava Java all in one sitting.

The result? One wired infant. Beatnik Baby, if you will. Unfortunately they don't do black berets and turtlenecks in newborn sizes.

Finally, while I've mentioned that foods which cause Mum to gas up don't have the same effect on baby - strongly flavoured foods DO effect the way Mum's milk tastes.

If she eats lots of garlic, for example (which is a staple in our house) she doesn't just sweat garlic afterwards - her milk actually tastes like it. This is because strong flavours permeate everything - including Mummy's milk factory.

That's not a bad thing, though. Doctors say that the flavour of Mum's milk often helps baby develop certain culinary preferences even before he's eating solid food. For example, an Indian baby will grow up with a taste for curry because that's what his Mum's milk tastes like. Similarly, a French baby (or our baby) will enjoy the taste of garlic because his Mum is fed spoonfuls of it every time Dad decides to cook. Presumably, a British baby will grow up disliking anything that's got more flavour to it than a steamed carrot.

It's amazing all the things you learn raising kids! It's also amazing just how much work is involved looking after something that weighs less than 10lbs. Our baby generates more than that in dirty nappies every day. It's a relief to go to work (although I feel guilty leaving Mum at home with the milk-vampire to feed.)

Also - how crazy is the whole milk-making process? My wife is literally a food factory. She makes baby's breakfast, lunch, dinner, elevenses, three o'clock snack, midnight feast and sunrise Slurpee. As far as our son's concerned, she's an all-you-can-eat buffet that changes his nappy as well.

What astounds me is the effect breastfeeding is having on Tina's body. The weight is falling off of her. She's still got the same soft skin she had when she was pregnant, but the rest of her body is tightening up, slimming down and suddenly reverting to the same eminently enviable curves she had when I first met her. Weight watchers look out...

Monday, June 30, 2008

Farmer's Market...

Supermarkets are pretty appalling in America, when you compare them to Sainsburys or Tescos or the wonderful French hypermarches like E.LeClerc.

They're dingy, dirty and the range of produce is pretty miserable. There's nothing like the 'ready meals' Sainsburys are so good at and things just look dirtier.

But, I quickly learnt, you learn to overlook your European shopping-snobbery when you pop into the local Spanish bogeda next door, which trades dirty for filthy and throws in a side order of smelly as well.

I'm not too fussed. The average American supermarket is no scarier than a French market, which would have most hygiene obsessed Americans reaching for their hand sanitizer.

Which is why, this weekend, Tina and I decided to break away from the neat, homogenized safety of shrink-wrapped American food and risk 'the wild' of the local farmer's market.

Farmer's markets in America aren't like 'farmer's markets' in England. We used to have the most wonderful Farmer's Market every second Sunday, which took over most of Winchester's pedestrian precinct and sold delicious, but expensive, produce produced locally.

The farmer's market we went to this weekend was more of a shop - or a warehouse, specifically, which had rows of wooden shelves brimming with freshly picked New Jersey vegetation.

Carrots. Spinach. Even parsnips (oh, how I've missed them!) And, astonishingly, it was all a lot cheaper than the local supermarket - and even cheaper than the wholesale shop we get our groceries from!

Plus it's all fresh, delicious and hasn't been shipped all the way from Mexico.

Tina and I bought $50 worth of vegetables (at the local supermarket) for $26 and they were utterly delicious. The only thing worrying was how corn - which was 19c an ear when I first arrived - has already climbed to 50c.

Ethanol or popcorn? Will America have to make this choice? Will I?

In any event, I'm very happy we decided to go the hippy, Prius, tree-hugging route (as some of our incredulous friends describe it) and check out the farmer's market. It's brilliant!