Tag: baby-growth

The Yellow Moustache Diaries: Food Review by a 6-Month-Old

For six whole months, my menu was pretty simple: Mumma’s milk, served fresh and on demand. Life was good. Then suddenly, everyone started talking about something called “solids.” Apparently, this was a Very Big Deal.

The excitement actually began weeks before the big day. Mumma, Dadi and Motamummy spent hours researching first foods! Mumma was reading articles, watching videos, and asking every parent she knew for advice. Packages started arriving at our doorstep almost daily—silicone bowls, tiny spoons, bibs, sippers, food-grade feeders, suction plates, and all sorts of baby dining accessories. If there was a gadget for a baby starting solids, chances are Mumma bought it.

And then there was my fancy new high chair, lovingly gifted by Raju Uncle and family! Thank you Misha Didi. It had been sitting in the corner for weeks, waiting for its grand debut. Every time Mumma walked past it, she’d smile excitedly and say, “Soon, Sharva!” Finally, the big day arrived. 30th May, 2026, a Saturday!

My very first meal was moong dal porridge—a traditional and gentle first food chosen with lots of love and care. But honestly, the food wasn’t the main attraction. The audience was.

My Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, Chachi, Naniji, Mumma, Papa—everyone was there. My Motamummy and Motapappa were on videocall. It felt less like Lunch and more like a championship final. Cameras were charged. Phones were ready. Dadi made me offer my first meal to all my god friends in the temple in our house.

After that everyone gathered around my high chair, smiling, laughing, and cheering me on. The room was filled with excitement, nervousness, anticipation, pride, and about a hundred other emotions that grown-ups seem to experience all at once.

Meanwhile, I was mostly interested in the colorful bowls and spoons. The bright silicone utensils and shiny silver bowl immediately caught my attention. I poked them, grabbed them, waved them around, and generally inspected the equipment before agreeing to participate in the actual eating part.

Then came the moment. My first bite, that my Mumma fed me. I opened my mouth, tasted the porridge, paused, and gave everyone my best look of complete confusion.

Wait.

What was THAT?

It wasn’t milk.

It wasn’t familiar.

It was warm, soft, and entirely new.

The adults held their breath. I thought about it. I made a funny face. Everyone laughed. And then, surprisingly, I decided it wasn’t so bad. Spoon after spoon, I kept going. The cheering grew louder with every successful bite. Before anyone knew it, I had eaten almost the entire meal. The adults looked as if I had just won an Olympic medal.

Naturally, I couldn’t let things stay too neat. A good solids journey requires a proper mess. There was porridge on my new kurta. Porridge on my hands. Porridge on the tray. Somehow, there was even porridge where no porridge should logically have reached. By the end of the meal, I had developed a magnificent yellow moong dal moustache that everyone found absolutely hilarious.

Then came water. Now that was truly confusing. Why would anyone drink this clear, tasteless liquid when milk exists? I stared at the sipper suspiciously. I chewed it. I played with it. I spilled some. I looked deeply unconvinced by the entire concept. The grown-ups, however, were thrilled by every tiny sip.

Of course, no milestone is complete without photography. Between bites, smiles, funny faces, and the legendary dal moustache, hundreds of photos were taken. Someday, when I’m older, I suspect Mumma will show me every single one of them.

Looking back, my first solids meal wasn’t really about food. It was about love. It was about great grandparents and grandparents proudly watching another generation grow. It was about parents celebrating a milestone they had been eagerly waiting for. It was about family gathering together for something that might seem small to others but felt enormous to us.

A tiny bowl of moong dal porridge marked the beginning of a whole new adventure—one filled with new tastes, funny expressions, messy fingers, colourful plates, and countless memories. And if my first meal was any indication, this journey is going to be delicious. Mumma better be prepared, the critic is ready!

Love,
Sharva ❤️

Offering my food with my God Friends! 😇

First Reaction 😵‍💫

Pappa says Yum, so maybe it is Yum 🤔

Let me check 😎

Give me the bowl 🤤

Independent from the beginning 😂

What is this water thingy 🙄

What do you mean its over? 🫩

Half way to One and Step One towards Solids! 🥳

You get Cake, I get Dal and then you guys compensate with Kissi! 🥺

May 30, 2026
The Great Motamummy House Wakeathon

Sharva! One day, when you’re big enough to read this, we want you to know about those two days. The ones that made everyone a little tired, a little confused and very, very in love with you.

You were just a tiny newborn when we went to Motapappa – Motamummy’s house. Everyone imagined sleepy cuddles and peaceful naps. But you, my monkey boy, had other plans.

For two whole days, you decided that sleeping for more than 20 minutes was absolutely unnecessary. Every hour—almost on the dot—you wanted to be fed. And if you weren’t being held? Well… that was simply unacceptable. You wanted arms, warmth, movement, and company at all times.

Motamummy, being Motamummy, sprang into full action mode. At the very first sign that you might need extra comfort, she instantly ordered a Ghodiyu. No waiting, no debating. And just like that, the mission was assigned: Dilip was asked to get the Ghodiya from Lal Darwaja and Mehul was rushed to get the khol from Paridhan! Teamwork at its finest.

The house was buzzing. Motamummy. Japa aunty. Motapappa. Mumma. Everyone was on their toes—taking turns, whispering, rocking, feeding, pacing—while watching your wide, curious eyes that simply refused to close.

But in the middle of all this was Mumma—
exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed, sad, and so very tired. She was running on broken sleep, worried thoughts, and a heart that just wanted to make everything better for you. Some moments felt heavy. Some moments brought tears. And some moments were just about surviving the next hour.

And Motamummy saw all of it. She wasn’t only worried about you—she was equally worried about Mumma. Checking in, stepping in, reminding me to sit, to eat, to breathe. Holding the baby when Mumma’s arms ached, and holding Mumma together when it all felt like too much.

Seeing Mumma so exhausted, Dadda also came from Rajkot just for a few hours to be with the both of us. He sat close, helped in quiet ways, and simply being there brought comfort. You have no idea how thankful Mumma was in those moments—how supported and less alone she felt just because he showed up.

During this whirlwind even, Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, and Chachi came to meet you. They were so excited, eager to spend a few precious hours with their newest little love. But you… you wanted nothing to do with anything.

No cuddles.
No introductions.
No calm moments.

You cried. And cried. And cried some more.

Everyone tried everything—soft voices, gentle rocking, hopeful smiles—but you were not having it. It made them a little sad to see their tiny one crying nonstop, unable to soothe you the way they had imagined. But even through the worry, their love for you was overflowing.

You were overtired.
You were overstimulated.
You were fussy.
And you were determined to keep your eyes wide open.

We worried, of course. So Motapappa asked Viren Nana and we went to see a paediatrician the next day, carrying our exhaustion and a thousand questions with us. The doctor smiled calmly and said the simplest, most comforting words: “It’s just a phase.” And just like that, we breathed a little easier.

Those two days were super hectic. There was very little sleep, lots of concern, endless holding, and a house full of adults revolving around one tiny human. But they were also filled with love—messy, instinctive, drop-everything love.

You may not remember these days. But we will.

They remind us that from the very beginning, you had your own rhythm. And that Mumma learned how strong she could be—even on days she felt anything but strong. And that Motamummy stood right there, protecting both her baby and her grandbaby.

And if you’re wondering—yes, you eventually did sleep. And yes, everyone survived.

And just in case you’re reading this as a teenager or an adult and wondering why everyone in the family reacts very quickly when you say you’re “not sleepy”. This was your debut performance.

Two days.
Zero long naps.
One entire household trained to respond at lightning speed.

You taught us early. Very early. 😌

January 23, 2026
The Great Snuggle and Snacks Era

Sharva one day, when you’re older and reading this, you probably won’t remember these days at all. But we will. Because they mattered.

You are five weeks old, and since a few days the world feels big and loud to you. You have begun to wake up to it. Your eyes are staying open a little longer. Your cries are sounding more urgent. And you suddenly seem to need us in a deeper, more intense way than before. These few weeks as the internet suggests are often called a “fussy phase,” but that word doesn’t quite capture it. You aren’t being difficult. You are learning how to be human.

Right now, you want to eat often—sometimes what feels like all the time. You want to feed, pause for a short rest, and then want to eat again. Cluster feeding is your way of growing, finding comfort, and telling our bodies and hearts exactly what you need. To us, it means long evenings on the couch, soft lights, and learning patience in new ways. To you, it means safety.

You also don’t want to be put down. At all. You sleep best on our chests, curled up against the steady rhythm of a heartbeat you have known long before you were born. All you want is contact naps. If we try to lay you in your cot or bassinet, you let us know—loudly—that you aren’t ready. And so your Dad, your dadi and I hold you back. A lot. Arms tired, backs sore, but hearts full.

There are moments your Dad and I wonder if you are feeling unwell. But the truth is, you are doing exactly what newborns are meant to do. You are asking for closeness. For warmth. For reassurance that the world outside the womb is still safe. And every time we pick you up, every time we let you nap on us or feed you again even though you have just eaten, we arw answering you the only way that matters: We’re here.

These weeks will pass, as all seasons do. You will slowly learned to settle. You will sleep longer. You will need us in new ways instead of constant ones. But this chapter will always stay with us.

So if you’re reading this years from now, know this:
You were never “too much.”
You were never needy.
You were learning, growing, and loving the only way you knew how.

And we loved you right back—every fussy, clingy, beautiful minute of it. 💛

Mommy Duty

Daddy Duty

January 2, 2026