Nice Baby Food Schedule photos

A few nice baby food schedule images I found:

Do you find what you need? Look here!,This blog is about ask a toddler & healthy food for children.
The following not about baby food schedule,but classicA bad workman always blames his toolsGod made relatives; Thank God we can choose our friends. Come what may, heaven won’t fall..Content is better than riches.。！！Advice :At about six months, babies starts to eat real food. Rice cereal and mushy veggies turn to combinations of fish, meat, eggs, legumes, and vegetables—yep
Beautiful:

my wild and crazy valentine’s day.

Image by sparrowsfall
some things have to be experienced to be believed.

so leaving working today i walked down 47th street to the MAX stop. on the bench was a girl dressed rather like an elf with stripy pants and a long purple hat and a mark funkhouser button ("Vote for FUNK"); a plastic bag; the owner of the bag, a homeless man whom i have seen around midtown, old, warmly dressed, scruffy medium length beard, otherwise unremarkable. standing a little apart by the trashcan was a black lady wearing a black veil.

i looked at the schedule and noted that the next bus would be along at half past three, in half an hour, and judged that i should simply sit down. i settled by the homeless man and contemplated the ground. a penny glittered there. the man rummaged his pockets and slowly shifted things around, eventually setting aside a used bus pass. he leaned over and scooped up the penny and put it away, murmured to himself, and fell silent. we sat there a few minutes, and then the elf-girl, whom i’ve seen on the max several times before, got up and went away quickly.

after a minute the man lit a cigarette, puffed a few times, then said to me, ‘how cold was it? how cold do you think it is today, boss?’

well,’ said i, ‘ i think it’s about 25 degrees.’ (i found, later, that i overstimated by about seven degrees, but it was an honest estimate.)

‘ah,’ said the man, satisfied.’i thought it was warmer today. ‘but last night was a bitch.’

‘yes,’ i agreed, not having any notion of how bad it probably was.

‘buddy of mine,’ said, ‘we spent the night together. we kept all right. i’ve got,’ he went on, ‘a good kit. i’ve got a korean war sleeping bag, rated to 20 below, and another sleeping bag, and a blanket. what you do is, you lay the thickest thing you’ve got down, and put your other bag on that, and lay the blanket over you: that way the concrete doesn’t bite you in the ass.’ he laughed. ‘don’t tell anyone,’ he chuckled, but i have another blanket, a baby blanket i wrap around my feet.’

i smiled.‘yeah,’ i said, nodding. ‘layers is the way to go.’

‘my buddy and me, we lay next to each other, then this old girl, she’s bipolar, crazier than hell, came, and she was freezing, so we let her in with us.’ he chuckled again. ‘i lay between the two of them and i kept pretty warm. it was a three-dog night.’

‘i’ve been thinking,’ i said. ‘it’s been cold for a while. i wondered what its been like.’

‘yeah,’ he said. ‘we’ve done okay.’ he nodded slowly. ‘i heard on a weather forecast once,’ he went on, ‘about how the earth’s pole shifts around every five thousand years, back and forth, like seventeen degrees. it was once by thule in greenland, and now its more in canada. the cold goes with it, and so kansas city’s gonna have new england winters.’

‘really?’

‘yeah, it’ll be hard living here,’ he said. ‘like detroit’

‘i hope not,’ i said, noncommittal. ‘it’s been cold too long now. i hope it’s over soon.’

‘yeah,’ he said. ‘but i guess i won’t have but a few more years before i have to check out.’ he grinned and laughed. ‘i’m pretty old. after that,’ he paused. ‘well, there’s three ways i can see it going. there’s your judeo-christian way, where you stand and are judged. then there’s your asian way, where you are born and born again until you get it right.’ he smiled at me. ‘well, there’s the third way, where you just fall asleep and never wake up. not ever.’

‘yeah?’

‘yeah. i don’t like the first way. i don’t like the idea of somebody judging me. and i sure don’t want to have to be born and live this again. i like the idea of sleeping.’

‘yeah, that’s the way to go.’

‘i like to sleep. i hate waking up. i hate waking up and having to face reality.’

i said something inane in agreement, like i’d know what having to face reality meant. i thought about bonnie laying there asleep in the morning, not wanting to wake up. i thought of him sleeping, really not wanting to wake up.

‘i just want to sleep,’ he said, ‘forever. never have to wake up.’ he smiled, and i nodded and smiled back.

he nodded a moment more. ‘think i may go around to jack stack barbecue in a while. see what i can get. they’ve got a good barbecue baked beans, and mashed potatoes with garlic and cheddar cheese.’ he smiled and laughed. ‘good food. used to be fiorella’s,’ he said, and named an adress i forget but which is doubtless correct. ‘their daughter went to school with my half sister to notre dame de sion.’

i looked at him, trying to shave away and beard and peel away the clothes and put another life like a suit on him. i failed: my lack of faith, for which i feel ashamed.

‘used to go over, see the manager, the guys at the bar. got to be real good friends.’

‘yeah?’

‘yeah.’

after a moment he asked, ‘do you like donuts?’

‘as a matter of fact i do.’

‘i was just at sunfresh,’ he said. ‘they had some great donuts, shaped like valentine’s hearts.’ he picked up the plastic bag that had been sitting there. ‘here, have one.’

‘thank you, i sad, accepting the bag. it was a marsh’s sunfresh bag.

‘i just pulled that one apart,’ he said, perhaps fearing i might be squeamish. ‘i didn’t bite it off.’

‘oh, that’s all right,’ i said, opening the plastic clamshell in the bag. it was sticky, and there were printed paper towels folded neatly on top.. i selected the pastry next to the half-eaten one and began to thoughtfully eat it while he kept talking. he’d been hit by a car last summer, and ever since bad balance because of his leg. he’d had trouble walking on the ice.

‘yeah, i hate walking on this ice too,’ i said.

i lost the train of his thought for a moment, then he came to a decision. ‘need to go to work,’ he went on matter-of-factly. ‘got to make some money.’ he rummaged in his bag for a moment, then said to himself, ‘where’s my sign?’ he rummaged, then said, ‘damn, lost my sign.’ he sounded a little crestfallen.

in my pocket was a sharpie i’d walked out of work with. ‘here,’ i said. ‘i’ve got a new pen, it’s a good one. get some cardboard, and you’ll be set.’

‘why thank you, young man,’ he said. he seemed positively energized, and waved off towards the art institute. ‘i’ll go get some cardboard, and make a new sign.’ he heaved to his feet, and pulled on his bags and packs.

‘don’t forget your donuts,’ i said.

‘no, no, you keep them.’

‘thank you,’ i said.

‘thank you, ‘ he replied. ‘thanks!’

‘you’re welcome. good bye,’ i said.

he half-strode, half hobbled away. i finished the donut. by the time i had licked it off my fingers, and as i began to wonder what in the world i would do with the rest of them, another man came quickly up the sidewalk. also homeless, a little crazier looking, carrying a snow shovel and a snow shovel blade. he looked at the schedule, and then went back to the trash can, leaning his shovel and spare blade against it. he eyed me, then the black woman, seemed to make a choice, and drew a deep breath.

‘do you know about the 1260 year-cycle in the bible?’ he cried out at her.

‘i beg your pardon?’ she eeped, sounding like hooks in the police academy movies. ‘the 1260 year cycle in the bible. the hebrew calendar had 360 days,’ and he began rattling off chapter and verse.

‘you mean like in ephesians,’ she mumbled, ‘ where you shall remember ye being in past Gentiles . . . and what was will be again.’

‘i don’t kow,’ he shouted. ‘lots of good things in ephesians, one and two,’ and he raced through more verses. ‘ but the point is there’s a 1260 year cycle, 670 BC the babylonian captivity,’ race and gabble, ‘and 560 AD the catholic church contaminated primitive christianity,’ on and on like a jack chick tract now, ‘and then 1260 years later in 1830 the greek state was declared independant returning Holy Greece to the mother church,’ on and on breathlessly, ‘proving the 1260 year cycle. Praise the Lord!’

she murmured something, and made a noise. i thought at first she was laughing. ‘Praise the Lord!’ the crazy man said. now i knew she want laughing, but crying, sobbing. ‘are you all right?’ i can’t understand you,’ he said as she repeated something.

i failed to hear her either, hiding behind he rveil, but i thought she was saying, ‘why did they do it to him? why did they do it?’ i thought she was referring to the crucifixtion.

‘well, that’s the 1260 year cycle. praise the lord!’

at this time he fell silent, as a tall, thin lanky man looking not little like Lurch from the Addams Family, but far thinner. i knew him from sight too, from the bus. he loomed over us, faintly swaying, as the black woman wept and then shovel man looked intently 1260 years away at nothing. shortly thereafter another homeles sman, a black man now, with a bundle and an empty, heedless in thought and pace stumbled along and took his place amongst us. finally the elf-girl straggled back from what ever errand she had been on and began idly brushing melting ice from the bus shelter with a gloved finger. i wanted badly to say to her, ‘you have no idea what you’ve been missing,’ but i knew that there’d be no explaining. quickly the bus drew up, and we all of us piled on, wild-eyed shovel man, sniffling religious hysteric, duffle-man with a moon-like face, spindly giant, elf-girl, and me. the bus, of course, was packed, and had that atmosphere of tension and insanity the metro often exudes. i grabbed a rail and pondered matters while riding to brookside. by the time i had reached 62nd street i had begun to question my own sanity and got out with the homeless duffle man, still carrying my bag of hobo donuts. i had an errand at constantino’s groceries, and walked up the hill still wrapped in my own thoughts.

if i hoped to find normality i was disappointed, for i found that everything was just as insane there. the stepford wives with little girls in catholic shool outfits, grocery boys in white shirt and tie, older white men hastily choosing flowers and candy (as i myself did): all of these seemed a part of a weird world i could not penetrate or understand, as alien as the world of the homeless. i hung trapped in the center, unable to move from one or the other or to understand either. a woman pushed a cart, her little boy hanging off it. she chided him for something. i smiled at her, and passed by into the canned vegetable aisle, thinking, lady, you have no idea what i’ve seen and done in the last hour, as i still carried, brushing by her arm, a bag of food given me to a homeless man.

only after i walked out of the store and headed home, into the silence of the snow and cold sunlight, did i feel as if i had reached some point of balance and sanity.

and i said to myself, ‘what in the hell was all of that?’

in the book a canticle for leibowitz a scholar calls the men of his time brutes and asks a priest to comment on what the priest sees in them. says the priest angrily, ’i see the image of christ.’ if ever i received the Host i received it from that old man on a bus stop. i had received charity and mercy from those that i would have thought below me. i had seen the well-to-do and proud clearly, as they were. it was sobering.

i knew what to do with the donuts. i put them by the composter for the possum and the squirrels: to throw them away would have been sacrilege, and i cannot stress that enough; as far as i was concerned it was the body and blood. as charity passed to me, so it would pass on to the weaker and more helpless than myself. what else would Francis of Assisi have done?

The following are not relevant to the content of some baby food schedule,But meaningfulEvery man should marry. After all, happiness is not the only thing in life.God made relatives; Thank God we can choose our friends. Your mind is like this water, my friend, when it is agitated, it becomes difficult to see, but if you allow it to settle, the answer becomes clear..Every man is the architect of his own fortune.。！！Good advice :Wash nappies with pure soap and warm water. Make your own non-toxic cleansers with simple ingredients such as baking soda and vinegar
Refinement :

125/365: 2006-2007

Image by bloody marty mix
Sunday, 28 September 2008.

40 Years in 40 Days [ view the entire set ]
An examination and remembrance of a life at 40.

For the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, I intend to use my 365 Days project to document and remember my life and lay bare what defines me. 40 years, 40 qualities, 40 days.

Year 39: 2006-2007

At the beginning of October, 2006, Kurt and I were beside ourselves with excitement. Kurt’s team, the Cardinals, and my team, the Tigers, would meet in the World Series. We joked about how romantic and perfect it was, and we trash-talked each other’s teams, gently ribbing and teasing when someone made an error or struck out.

I would miss part of that series, however, because I was in the hospital. I’d had an episode of heart palpitations while driving to work. I’d always had occasional palpitations, even as a teenager, but they were always over just as soon as they’d begun. This time, they didn’t stop. I felt my field of vision closing in front of me, so I pulled over to the side of the road, sure I was going to pass out. I thought, you’ve got to be kidding me. This is how I’m going to go? Sitting by the side of the highway during the morning commute to my soulless corporate cubicle? And then it stopped. I sat there for a minute, just breathing and making sure that it really was over, then got back on the road and drove to my office. When I got there, I told my boss what had happened, and that I needed to go to the hospital to get checked out.

When I walked into the emergency room and told them that I thought I was having heart trouble, they didn’t even bother writing my name down before whisking me back into the treatment area. They hooked me up to every conceivable machine, did a CT scan, and took vials of blood to test. Nothing turned up. They suspected it was a combination of stress, lack of sleep, and having just finished a course of prescription decongestants, but they kept me overnight for observations anyway. They set me up in a room in the cardiac wing with wires hanging from my chest and abdomen. Nurses down the hall monitored my heart rate and blood pressure. The next morning, they did an echocardiogram (heart ultrasound). Still nothing. It was time to face facts, the doctor said. I was too stressed. I needed to chill out. I rolled my eyes. There was no way that was going to happen. In addition to the stressful job, I had also begun taking design and metalworking classes to indulge my interest in jewelry design. My schedule wasn’t going to be getting any easier for months. Then, as if to mock his own admonition to relax, he informed me that the CT scan had turned up a mysterious mass on my liver. And thus began my weird health odyssey.

The doctors suspected that the mass on my liver was a giant hemangioma (basically a big, blood-filled, internal birthmark), but they needed to do an MRI to be sure. The MRI confirmed the diagnosis. I had a very large blood-filled sac on my liver, and if it broke open, I could die. Unfortunately, the surgery to remove it would be just as likely to kill me, so my best option was to simply make sure I never got hit really hard in the liver. Well, OK.

The MRI, in turn, had turned up something looking suspiciously like gall stones. I was immediately scheduled for a consultation with a gastrointestinal surgeon. The surgeon was iffy on whether or not to remove the gall bladder. If I didn’t want kids, he said, it was a no brainer: leave it in. If I had any plans to get pregnant in the future, then it was a bit more complicated. If I had a gallstone attack while pregnant, it could be both excruciating and dangerous, but, he noted, also highly unlikely. I was having some symptoms that were somewhat consistent with gall stones, but he felt they were likely something more pedestrian, like IBS. He shoved me along to a gastroenterologist.

The gastroenterologist (who for all the world looked exactly like a guy I once had a huge crush on) decided he’d better do a colonoscopy and endoscopy. I reported for "duty" and just as the doctor (who, did I mention, looked exactly like a guy I once had a huge crush on?) sat down to go to work, I gratefully slipped under the anesthesia. When I awoke, I had a vague memory of choking on something, and nothing else. Kurt stayed at my bedside while I slowly came out of the fog, breaking wind like a frat boy at a Mexican rodeo. Now that’s love, I thought. The -oscopies didn’t turn up anything, either, and so I walked away from my medical odyssey with nothing but a smaller bank account and a paranoid desire that nobody ever punch me in the liver.

That was not to be the end of my trials and tribulations, though. In late July, shortly before my brother was to come to Chicago for a visit, my apartment was invaded by bird mites. The closet in my bedroom featured a mysterious portal to the outside. It had been boarded up loosely and, other than some idle speculation as to what its original purpose was, I didn’t think much about it. That spring, some pigeons had begun nesting there, and when the babies hatched it set up such a ruckus that I couldn’t sleep whenever they were awake. I anxiously awaited the day the babies would leave the nest. Unfortunately, when they did, the mites that had been feeding on them, poured into the house through the portal in search of other food. They found me.

The next month was hell. Pest control could do nothing to stop them. Despite them having told me that they wouldn’t be interested in biting me because I was not a bird, my body was covered, head to toe, with painful welts. I began to research the problem on the internet, and what I uncovered filled me with horror and hopelessness. Bird mites are notoriously hard to get rid of, seem almost random in their choice of target (often leaving others in the same house untouched), and impervious to most pest control chemicals. Their life cycle can be rapid, reproducing and multiplying after just days, or they can adjust to sub-optimal environments by slowing their life cycle. I felt trapped and doomed, and I needed to get out, so I just walked away. I took myself and the cats and some clothing (dryer heat is one of the few things that kills the mites outright) and left the apartment and almost everything I owned. I got the cats cleaned up at the vet, and then moved in with Don W., an old roommate and friend of mine from college. I got in the shower with my clothes on, stripped down in the hot water, put my clothes in a garbage bag, and enjoyed the feeling of being safe once again. I lived with Don W. for the next three months, until I was able to get a short-term lease on a furnished apartment near work. I was planning to move to Kentucky to be with Kurt in January.

Kurt, meanwhile, had plans of his own. My birthday happened to fall on Homecoming weekend that year, and he had something special in mind for a birthday gift. On Friday night (the night before my birthday), as we were getting into our sleeping bags in the tent, Kurt asked me to wait a moment before going to sleep. He had something he wanted to show me. He turned around and fumbled around in his bag in the corner of the tent. When he turned back to me, he was holding out a small white box, opened to reveal a ring. He put it in my hands and said, "I don’t want to live another day having to introduce you as just my girlfriend." We cried and laughed and hugged until our eyes grew too droopy to see clearly, then snuggled back down into our sleeping bags and fell asleep.

Who am I?

I am moderately healthy, actually.

By all rights, I should be a complete wreck. The genetic odds are stacked against me: diabetes, heart disease, cancer, mental illness. The lifestyle odds are stacked against me. I’m fat and have spent many years abusing the hell out of body. And yet, I seem to have remained mostly untouched by the worst of what should have come to me by now. I’m probably living on borrowed time, but for now, it seems to be working.

I credit the generous application of bacon.

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A few nice baby food schedule images I found:

About baby food schedule,This blog is about healthy baby food & educating a baby.
The following are not relevant to the content of some baby food schedule,but classicA bully is always a coward.Friendship is love without his wings. (George Gordon Byron, Bdritish poet) One meets its destiny on the road he takes to avoid it..Every man is the architect of his own fortune.。！！about baby food schedule tips : Encourage your baby to allow herself to be held and interacted with by family, friends and neighbors.
Wonderful baby food schedule:

Image by wakingphotolife:
"Hi John. This is Samantha…Yeah. I’m okay. Just on about to head home right now…I just talked to Donny. It’s nothing to worry about…Sure…I’m sorry. That’s the reason I’m calling actually…I won’t be able to make it over to dinner tonight so just eat without me…No, it’s not that…You’re thinking too much…I just, I don’t know…I have to go now. I’ll call you again when you and I are free maybe…Yeah sure. Bye."

It was only three in the afternoon, Samantha sat in her bus seat waiting for the diver to return. There aren’t too many passengers who take the three o’ clock bus on a Monday so Samantha sat quietly after she was finished talking on the phone. She put it into vibrate and put it deep into the bottom of her bag. After a few minutes, she felt it hum through the fabric but she didn’t pick it up. She left it at the bottom of the bag.

"I don’t know what to think Sam. Everything seems fine but it just doesn’t feel right, I can’t get my mind on it."
"Maybe it’s the typeface. Have you tried kerning it a bit more?"
"Yeah I did. But that’s why I came to you. You’re good at explaining these things and putting them into words. All I know how to do is to make. I was hoping you’d be able to talk me into being satisfied with it."
"You should. It’s great work Sam. For once, I don’t know what to say."
"You kidding me?"
"No. I’m not kidding you."
"I need a drink."
"Feel free to help yourself. Honestly, Sam. You did great work."

Sam poured herself a scotch. Then she poured Donny one. There wasn’t much left in the bottle. Enough for a fifth each. They stood in the living room and looked at the poster that hanged on the wall behind the sofa. At the bottom was a small town on the bottom edge of the paper where all you could were the slanted wooden rooftops and power lines that rose up along the chimneys and spires. People and things were floating up towards the right corner of the page. Not floating, but drifting through the empty paper space Old men, old woman, babies, young girls with pig tails and boys in striped t-shirts and round glasses. Hammers, nails, cats, lamps, chairs, clothes, guitars, wheel barrows, bottles and flowers and stuffed animals and teapots. All drifting up off the edge of the page.

Snaking through it all on a white ribbon were the words, "The Best Nonrequired Reading: Sam Jones and Donny Washburn"

The bus ride to Sacramento took about two hours. Sam was going home, the home that she grew up in, to spend the night with her mother because she didn’t go back to her apartment. Now that her work was done, the idea of it returning to her apartment made her uneasy. What was there waiting for her now?

It began to rain and the bus driver hadn’t returned yet. She could the hear the dispatcher routing all the to other drivers into one smooth schedule. It was like clock and magic all at once. One small office with a radio coordinating every bus around town. Sam closed her eyes and put her head against the window. She dreamed of all these ribbons coming out from the underneath layers of clothes, tied by the waist, Donny, her mom, John, the bus driver, the other passengers. And she was at the center, turning them this way and that. Like a dispatcher routing everyone into their places.

They reached the edge of town and she transferred to a city bus. It was a different crowd. People coming home from work or going to: suits, fast food chain uniforms, construction jeans and mesh caps, some school uniforms. She put her against the glass. It was cool on her skin and she could feel the contact cause the air on the glass to condense. She look at the miss call on her phone. It was John. A few minutes from her mother’s house she decided to call it.

"Hi John. This is Samantha…Yeah, I’m okay. I just want to let you know I’ll be at my mother’s house tonight…I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon…No, it’s not anything like that…If you’re not busy, you can come too…No, I mean it."

AUDIO: Sylvain Chauveau – "Cet Enfer Miraculeux"

These are useful by me!,This blog is about healthy baby food and Newborn Baby Clothes.
The following are not relevant to the content of some baby food schedule,But funnyA bad workman always blames his toolsA friend without faults will never be found. Come what may, heaven won’t fall..Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.。！！
Wonderful baby food schedule:

Ian

Image by Cayusa
Every year our group of friends gets together and goes camping. One of my friend’s mothers has a farm local to all of us and we set up our tents and camp out for the weekend. Good food, good friends and a lot of fun. Our friend Mike is a fantastic cook and he does a fantastic job cooking over a fire. The menus he prepares read like a fancy restaurant’s.

Kahty and I couldn’t fit the whole weekend into our schedule, but we did stop by and hang out for a few hours and ate dinner. I’ve got a ton of shots to go through, but I’ll get to them later. I’m a bit worn out. I gave platelets again today and then over exerted myself a bit this afternoon.

Norm and Laurie’s boy Ian. I haven’t seen him as much as some of the other babies that our group has brought into the world. He is a cutie though and one rough and tumble little boy. When Savanah was this age (just under a year) she would need her hands wiped off the minute they got dirty. Ian, on the other hand, was busy climbing all over the logs and having a blast.

tips:About baby food schedule,In the blog: healthy baby food & educating a baby.
The following are not relevant to the content of some baby food schedule,but classicA dress is like a barbed fence. It protects the premises without restricting the view.Work makes the workman. One meets its destiny on the road he takes to avoid it..Money is not everything. There‘s Mastercard & Visa. 。！！Good advice :breastfeeding is best. It’s free, has health benefits for mother and baby, has no environmental impact, and is a precious bonding experience.
Q&A–: Schedule for feeding baby food to almost 7 month old?
My son has been eating baby food since about 5 months, and has eaten pretty much all of the 1st foods. Now, the first foods are a little small and don’t fill him up, so he’s been eating the 2nd foods now. I looked on the Gerber website, and it really wasn’t any help, because one of the menus had meat items on it, which I haven’t introduced yet, only fruits and vegetables. However, the menus did say to give some kind of baby cereal for breakfast and lunch, along with the baby food. That seems like alot of food to me. So, my wuestion is, do you give your baby cereal & baby food for breakfast and lunch? My son usually eats fruit with soem kind of grain or granola in it for breakfast, fruit for lunch and a vegetable for dinner. Should I be giving him a fruit and a vegetable at each meal? Two of the 1st foods instead of one of the second foods (1 veg, 1 fruit?). Sorry if this is confusing, I’m just trying to get him on a good feeding schedule. Thanks for any help.

The following is the answer: (Hint: The correct answer provided by the users, does not guarantee the right.)

Answer by daisydownsouth
I gave my son cereal with fruit mixed in it for breakfast the same for lunch but included a veggie and then for dinner I gave him the same as lunch. My son sometimes finished it and sometimes didnt. Hope this helps.

Answer by Pamela D
My daughter ate a stage 2 fruit for breakfast with oatmeal, a stage 2 fruit and veggie for lunch, and a stage 2 fruit and veggie for dinner (or one of the dinners). I was concerened that this was too much, but her pedi said it was just fine. She also gets about 27 ouncs of breastmilk/formula throughout the day.

Answer by kelsey f
my son is also 7 months.

for breakfast he’ll either get rice cereal mixed with either formula or juice, or infant oatmeal. plus he’ll get a fruit.

for lunch he’ll get a veggie & fruit

then dinner he’ll get a meat, veggie, and desert.

we’re using stage 2 right now, and we’ll give him a whole container of veggie, then half of a fruit/desert – sometimes the whole thing if he wants it.

most babies are different when it comes to how much they eat, your baby will let you know when hes full. & being 7 months he’s pretty much ready for anything, even a majority of what mommy & daddy eats (just mushed up). our ped. just recently told us that between 6-7 months we should start giving something once a day that requires a little chewing, so he can learn to begin chewing otherwise once he’s 8+ with his teeth it will be heck trying to teach him to chew, because he’ll be so use to the pureed foods.

but i wish you the best of luck! let him help you get him set up on a schedule.

Answer by CAAM
When my son was 7 months old, he was eating cereal and fruit for breakfast, fruit/veggie for lunch and cereal and veggie for dinner. He has always been a big eater. Giving your son cereal, fruits and veggies are all fine, as much as he wants. Just remember also that all these baby foods are not a necessity, and baby will still need a good amount of breastmilk or formula at this age. Good luck!

Answer by mamaposs
That sounds like way too much food. Formula/breastmilk should make up the majority of your baby’s diet until he is 12 months old. If he is bottlefed, ask your health nurse or paediatrician how much formula he should be drinking and offer this amount with one small meal of solids AFTER a milk feed. For the first year, solids are largely for exploration of tastes and textures. With the meal you offer, it can be cereal mixed with a little fruit, or vegetables or fruit. I have always made all my daughter’s food myself. It’s very quick and easy to cook some vegetables and puree/mash them. I then freeze them in icecube trays. That way I can defrost the amount I need and it’s always ready for her.
When your son is eating 1/2 cup of food in one meal and drinking his bottles, you can offer a second meal AFTER another bottle. If he stops wanting his milk, cut down his solids until he is drinking the required amount.
If you are breastfeeding, talk to your health nurse, paediatrician or lactation consultant about how to increase your milk supply and cut down your son’s solids to one meal a day AFTER breastmilk.

Answer by babybugs1980
My son is almost 7 months and a big eater as well. We have 3 meals a day and I did introduce meat at 6 months, simply because he had been eating solids since 4 months and I felt he was ready. Feeding him isn’t so much about the Stage food but about the amount. My boy weighs 18lbs and is 27 inches long and here is his feeding schedule, bigger or smaller babies may eat accordingly and don’t forget that metabolism will affect how much they eat as well. Oh, and please note that I am a horrible Mom as I feed solids first and then the bottle LOL

Breakfast – 2 oz of fruit and an oz of oatmeal or barley cereal. 5 oz of formula.

5 oz bottle before nap

Lunch – 3 oz of straight veggies, sometimes just one kind, sometimes a mixture and another 5 oz bottle

5oz bottle before nap

After nap (especially if it’s a long one), usually around 4pm he gets a snack of something he can feed himself (cookies/crackers/cheese/cheerios/fruit, sometimes I feed him some yogurt) and some juice watered down (he has to hold the bottle or sippy cup himself for that).

Dinner at 5:30pm (the only meal I am strict about the timing as it sets the tone for going to bed at 8pm) is one oz of veggie, one of a starchy item (potato, squash, rice, pasta) and an oz of meat and another 5 oz bottle.

Bedtime he gets an 8 oz bottle of which he usually drinks between 6 and 7 oz, the more I can get him to eat before bed the less likely he’ll want a bottle at 4am!)

His nap bottles are almost always almost empty, he also usually finishes most of his breakfast bottle. Lunch and dinner he may only drink half the bottle some days. Still though, he’s still eating over 24 oz of formula a day which my Doctor says is great because it means he is getting everything he needs from the formula and the solids are complementing and giving him the extra he needs since he’s a big boy with a high metabolism.

The difference in stage food isn’t so much amount as it is texture. My son eats some things that would be considered stage 3 for it’s lumpiness and he gets mad when he eats things that have no lumps as he likes to chew LOL. They just sell the stage 2 and 3 jars in bigger sizes because they expect babies to be eating more as they move onto the food that is actually more solid than pureed.

Good luck!

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