Tag: first-year

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
Cheeku’s Ahmedabad Diaries

Some chapters in life feel so full, so gentle, that you wish you could pause time and live in them a little longer. The past three months were exactly that for you and me, Sharva—a cocoon of love, laughter, and firsts. And now, as we returned from Ahmedabad to Tramba, carrying bags full of your baby things and hearts full of memories, it truly felt like we were closing a beautiful chapter while stepping into another.

These months at Motamummy and Motappa’s home were not just about staying—it was about growing, together. Sharva, you were wrapped in a kind of love that only grandparents can give. Every day revolved around you, and yet it never felt tiring—only joyful. Your Motamummy and Motapappa built so many little routines for you, making sure you were comfortable, happy, and always surrounded by warmth. From feeding times to nap times, from playtime giggles to evening walks—everything had a rhythm, and somehow, you settled into it so naturally.

And oh, how much you changed. From those tiny newborn days, you began discovering your world. First came the soft coos, those tiny sounds that felt like conversations from another universe. Then came your smiles—wide, innocent, and enough to melt every heart in the room (especially while looking at your passage plates and drawing room lights). Slowly, you began recognizing faces, responding to familiar voices with excitement. And one day, just like that, you rolled onto your side, as if to say, “Look what I can do now!” Each milestone felt like a celebration.

Your Motapappa made it a ritual to pick you up in the morning and play with you while your mumma slept a little and your motamummy did her work! He would take your out for evening strolls. Those quiet walks, with the soft breeze and fading sunlight, became your special time together. I could see the bond growing stronger with every step.

Your motamummy—her voice became a comfort you grew to love. She would sing poems and lullabies, filling the home with a calm, soothing rhythm. It wasn’t just music; it was love in its purest form! She would talk to you constantly and you would reply in your coos and babbles!!

And the most unexpected bond was none other than with your Mamu! Your mamu had his own little world with you. He would wait—sometimes impatiently—for his cheeku to wake up, just so he could play, talk, and make him laugh. The excitement in your eyes every time you saw him would light up the whole house. The way he talked about you like you were the most precious thing was so beautiful! And the way you laughed seeing him do his antics were his rewards.

And every videocall with your Mimi made you so excited but it made Mimi so sad she couldn’t be there with you! She couldnt wait to come back from Canada and hug you tight and spoil you like you were meant to!

The house was never quiet, never still. It was alive—with laughter, tiny sounds, soft conversations, and countless moments that stitched themselves into our hearts.

And while you were there so many of Motamummy, Motappa, Mamu and Mumma Papa’s friends came to meet you bearing gifts! Vidhu Masi, Sana Masi, Himani Masi all made it a point to come over again and again to be with you because your masis love you just like your mumma!

And then came the day we had to leave. Packing felt heavier than it should have. Not because of the things—but because of everything we were leaving behind. Every corner of that home held a memory. Every room echoed with your growth. The goodbye was not loud, but it was deeply felt.

Coming back home to Rajkot brought its own comfort. There was excitement too—you getting to spend time with your dad, being back in your own space, and of course, reuniting with Stella, who had surely missed her mom and her little human. And most excited are Dadu and Dadi who cant wait to spend time with their Sharvu!

Yet, even in that happiness, there was a quiet heaviness. Because some homes aren’t just places—they are feelings. And Ahmedabad, in those three months, became exactly that for us. This chapter may have ended, but its warmth will stay with us always. And someday, Sharva, when you read this—you’ll know just how deeply you were loved, even before you could understand it. And how, in those early months, you brought all of us even closer together.

Day 1 at Motamummy Motapappa house!

Day 2 in Ahmedabad

Making everyone tiptoe around you!

“Sounga to sirf Motamummy ke pass” Phase

Morning time with Motapappa

Cheeeeeku na Cheeks Khai Jauuuu!

Happy 3 months

Cheeku and Mamu

Motamummy, Mamu, Sana Masi and Himani Masi entertain me while my Mom is not home!

April 25, 2026
Sharva & The Unlimited Milk Subscription Plan

If someone would have asked me before becoming a mom what breastfeeding would be like, I would’ve probably said something stupid like, “a beautiful bonding experience between mother and child.” or “its going to be so simple, latch, feed, unlatch and done.” Now, 4 months in with you, I can confidently update that statement to: “A beautiful yet exhausting bonding experience mixed with snacks-on-demand service, unpredictable schedules, and a tiny human who thinks I am both a buffet and a pillow.”

There are moments that genuinely feel magical. Like when you look up mid-feed, pause, give me a little smile (milk-drunk and proud of it), and then go right back to business — because clearly, smiling is optional but feeding is serious work. There’s comfort in knowing: I am your safe space, I can calm you instantly (most of the time… we’ll get to that), my body is literally helping you grow every single day.

And then there’s something that fills me with a different kind of pride! Watching your weight gain. From that tiny newborn to the chubbier, stronger, more active baby you are today – knowing that I nourished you entirely is surreal. Also, the convenience? Unmatched. No bottles to sterilize at 3 am. No measuring, no mixing. Just me, half asleep, functioning as a 24/7 milk machine. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a superhero. Other times like a very tired café waitress.

Now let’s talk about the real side.

1. The “Am I a pacifier or a person?” phase
There are days when you dont just feed — you linger. You snack. You relax. You contemplate life. All while I stay very still like a statue because if I move, we start over.

2. The Night Shift Nobody Prepared Me For
Everyone talks about newborn nights. No one fully explains the 4-month version: Feed, Burp, Try to transfer, Baby wakes and Repeat. And sometimes, you wake up at 3:30 am and be like: “Hi. I’ve had a great nap. What’s next?”

3. The Overthinking Olympics
Are you feeding enough? Too much? Too often? Too quickly? Why only 7 minutes today? Yesterday it was 20. Is this a problem? A phase? A personality trait? At this point, I deserve a gold medal in overanalyzing baby feeds.

4. Being the Only One Who Can Fix Everything
It’s beautiful and exhausting. Because when you are hungry, upset, sleepy, overstimulated, or just having a moment — I am the solution. Which is amazing until I just want to drink a hot cup of tea or take a quick nap.

5. Hello Growth Spurts & Cluster Feeding Chaos
Also just when I think, “Okay, we have a rhythm now,” you decide it’s time to level up. Suddenly you want to feed every hour, sometimes every 30–40 minutes. But now I know this is your way of saying, “Hey mom, I’m growing. Please upgrade supply.” It’s exhausting, slightly confusing, and comes with zero warning. But when I notice new rolls, new skills, new little changes I just tell myself: “This is temporary. The milk machine is in high demand today.”

There are also the funny unexpected parts of my breastfeeding journey with you. The dramatic head turning when you are done, like: “I have finished. You may proceed.” The random unlatching just to stare at me like I’ve done something interesting (I haven’t). The tiny hand gripping my finger like you are anchoring yourself during a storm. The way you sometimes doze off and then suddenly remember there’s milk and resume like nothing happened.

But I have learnt that breastfeeding isn’t just feeding. It’s Comfort, Connection, Regulation and Routine (or lack of it). And most importantly, I’m learning that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be right. Some days feel smooth and easy. Some days feel long and tiring. But every day, it’s ours.

And Sharva one day, you won’t need this anymore. You won’t reach for me in the same way. You won’t fall asleep mid-feed with your tiny hand resting on me. And I know I’ll miss it — even the hard parts. Even the 3:30 am ones.

The Honest Truth is that Exclusive Breastfeeding at 4 months is: Beautiful, Exhausting, Emotional, Funny and Totally worth it. And if you will ask me tomorrow, I might give you a different answer — because this journey changes every single day. But today, on your 4 month birthday I am a little proud, a little tired and very, very full of love.

The after feed Milk Drunk sleep

The after feed Milk Monster Attack

March 29, 2026
Motamummy’s House Rule: Baby First, Logic Later

One day, when you’re big enough to read this on your own, we want you to know something. Before you ever remembered anything, you were already the center of everything.

Motamummy’s house was a place where time moved slowly, arms were always ready to hold you, and love showed up loudly and unapologetically. It was you, your mom, motamummy, japa aunty, mamu, motapappa—and a whole lot of laughter wrapped around a very tiny human.

You didn’t need toys back then. You had people. People who made absolute fools of themselves just to see your eyes widen. We sang you the weirdest songs—songs with no tune, no logic, and lyrics that changed mid-way. Sometimes we sang about milk. Sometimes about your tiny hands. Sometimes we just sang your name like it was the greatest song ever written. Motamummy took these performances very seriously. You watched us like we were fascinating or mildly confusing. Either way, you stayed quiet, so we counted it as a win.

And oh, your expressions. You had this way of looking at us like you were already figuring things out. A serious face that made us wonder what you were thinking. A sudden smile that made the entire room freeze and then explode with happiness. Sometimes you made a face so strange that all of us burst out laughing together. You had no idea why—but somehow, you were the joke and the joy at the same time.

We didn’t just talk to you. We talked as you. In a deep, confident voice, we’d say things like:
“Relax everyone, I’m in charge here.”
“Yes motamummy, I know I’m cute.”
“Mamu, good effort. You may sing again.”

We gave you a personality long before you could show us yours. You were witty. Slightly dramatic. Very aware of how adored you were. And motapappa—oh, motapappa adored you in the quietest, purest way. Day in and day out. Holding you, looking at you like you were the answer to something he’d been waiting for. You didn’t have to do anything. Just being you was enough.

We talked about your future a lot. At motamummy’s house, you were already a singer, a storyteller, a traveler, a dreamer. Sometimes you were all of those in one afternoon. We imagined you laughing, walking into rooms with confidence, being kind, being curious. No matter who you became, one thing was always certain—you would be deeply loved.

I watched all of this with a smile I didn’t even know I was wearing, already saving these moments for later. Motamummy held you like the world could wait. Japa aunty stood close, proud and protective. Mamu brought noise and fun. Motapappa brought calm and endless love. And you—so small, so new—somehow made everyone feel complete.

Motamummy’s house wasn’t just where you stayed. It was where you were celebrated. Where your earliest days were filled with laughter, silly songs, made-up stories, and a family that thought you were magic.

One day, you won’t remember any of this. So we’re writing it down for you. So you know that before you could speak, you were spoken for. Before you could laugh, you were the reason we did. And before you knew what family meant, you were already surrounded by it—every single day. Always remember this:

You were loved from the very beginning. 🤍

Tummy time

Sleepy baby

Sharva becomes Sharvari

February 7, 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
A Year of Firsts: Welcoming 2026 With You

As the calendar turns and the world steps into 2026, Sharva, you are just one month old. You don’t know what a “new year” is yet. You don’t know about resolutions, countdowns, or fireworks. Right now, your whole universe is made of warm arms, familiar voices, milk, sleep, and the simple comfort of being held. And yet, this New Year feels bigger and more meaningful than any before it—because it is our first one with you.

Before you arrived, life was full, busy, and familiar. Days moved quickly. Nights were quiet. Plans were made far in advance, and time felt predictable. We didn’t realize how much space there was in our hearts until you showed us. Life before you wasn’t empty—it just didn’t yet know what it was missing.

Then you arrived. In an instant, everything changed. Time slowed down and sped up all at once. Nights became shorter, days felt softer, and the smallest moments suddenly mattered the most. A tiny stretch, a yawn, the way you curl your fingers around ours—these became the highlights of our days. You made ordinary moments extraordinary simply by being here.

Life after your arrival is louder in some ways and quieter in others. There is less sleep, but more meaning. Less routine, but more wonder. We see the world differently now, because we see it through the lens of loving you. You have already taught us patience, presence, and a deeper kind of joy than we ever knew before.

And now we step into 2026 together.

This year will be special—not because we know exactly what it will bring, but because it will be filled with your firsts. Your first smiles, your first laughs, your first words, your first discoveries of the world around you. You will grow more each day, and we will grow alongside you, learning how to be the people—and family—you need.

When you read this someday, you might be much older. You might not remember these early days. But know this: as 2026 began, you were deeply loved. You were our greatest hope, our biggest change, and our favorite part of the future. And you were part of a family that includes not only people who adore you but also your fur sisters: one here to grow up with you, and one watching over you from heaven.

This year wasn’t just a new year.
It was the beginning of a life we couldn’t imagine before you.

Welcome to 2026, little man.
We’re so glad we get to walk into it with you. ❤️

Slumber Party on New Year’s Eve, 31st December 2025

January 1, 2026