So, the weaning age is, yet again, under scrutiny

There's been a lot of hype in the media, once more, about when to move your child from your own bosomly nutrition (or formula milk - and despite choosing to breastfeed, I do not believe this liquid is sent directly from the devil) onto solids. The Times was, I believe, the first to put this 'new' information forth to those of us in the UK.

While having a sneaky Starbucks this morning (and yes, in this month of gross frugal-ness it's not entirely appropriate, I'm sure I should have taken a flask of tea, with the tea being made from muslin squares and hoover dust) I decided to search out this article online. God bless the mobile phone with internet access. So I read the article, and have yet to track down the actual research it referred to. So, after being told by the government for the past 'x' years that we should be exclusively breastfeeding for 6 months, this has been cast into doubt. It now 'may' throw our offspring under a cloud of 'possible' malnutrition. Apparently, the delayed introduction of solids can increase the likelyhood of allergies and iron deficiency.

So my opinion? I'm swaying towards load of tosh, with a heavy sprinkling of use your own common sense. What did mothers do before the government waded in shoving guidelines up our noses? We followed our instincts. And be they wrong or right (and as instincts go, is there actually a clean cut answer to what's wrong or right?) we just did it, no question, no judgment, nada. If the government produced a paper tomorrow which showed that the University of Anywhere had conducted research into nose picking, and doing it publicly actually increased your street cred and popularity, I wouldn't run out the door with a finger up my nose. So where does this weaning advice come into play?

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for research and it's benefits. But it really should be presented in such a way as to help women make an informed choice, not guilt them into doing something because the powers that be say so. Personally, I think I am sensible enough to see when my children need something other than milk.

My own experience is that children, even siblings, are grossly different. My first child was mainly bottlefed, we gave breastfeeding a good try, and after 3 or 4 weeks, all of that time suffering breast thrush and immense pain we gave up. I do believe that breastmilk is a fabulous substance, but you do reach of point of realising that sometimes, other things can be more important. Had I carried on with that pain another day, I am pretty sure I'd have ended up in a lunatic assylum. It's all very well being breastfed, but it can't help you with your mother's mental health. So, Callum went onto bottles, very quickly up to 8oz of hungry baby milk in a sitting, and still wanted more. So, by 12 weeks, he was on solids. I would admit to bowing to a little pressure, and he was probably on food a little earlier than I'd have liked, looking back. Rachel was breastfed after we got over those initial problems. She was on solids around 5 months, as and when I felt she displayed the readiness. Then there was Ryan. Also breastfed, he had other ideas. Much as I tried from around 5 months, he point blank refused. It was 7 months before he would accept anything other than milk directly from the breast. We offered, but he refused. By that time, I must admit, I was very frustrated, and ready for a break. But in the end, he showed me when he was ready, and that's fine by me. Now had I been a more careful mother, the new information would have thrown me into chaos, wondering if I'd harmed by youngest son by not force feeding him in in the birthing suite. Not me, I'm far to sloppy for that.

Ruby's now somewhere between 3 and 4 months, and the truth of the matter is, I'm intrinsically lazy. I'm breastfeeding her, and I do 'feel' it's the best thing to do. Not because the government say so, and at the end of the day, it's all about saving money for them, be it in healthcare or whatever. And also I wouldn't trust this coalition as far as I could throw them. I couldn't imagine at the moment having to find time or inclination to make bottles, or find places to heat them when I'm out. Or do anything except shove a boob at a screaming child in the night. So my lazy self will let her decide when she's ready for food. And as far as I'm concerned, the later the better, it's less hassle that way, but at whatever point she and I decide she's ready, I'll be there with my hand blender and steamed veg.

Maybe I'll wait until she's 12 and we just take her out for a deep fried mars bar and a can of irn bru. We are in Scotland after all.