You talking to me?

I think Anna recognised her name this morning. She was having some 'tummy time' (why does this have to be supervised? That rule was drummed in to me so much at the beginning of my trek into motherhood that I dutifully follow it unquestioningly, but it did occur to me that other day as I was sprinting down the hall to fetch something, and sprinting back again in a panic lest the Tummy Time Police had come to snatch Anna away in my 20 second absence, that I had no idea why this particular activity needs to be supervised any more than any other. Presumably, it's in case the babes spontaneously fall asleep whilst on their bellies posing the SIDs risk; if so I don't feel it's something I need to particularly worry about with my 'I don't need to nap' cherub). Anyway, Anna was trying to stuff a corner of her activity centre into her mouth sans hands and even if she did have a handle on the gross motor skills, anyone could see it was just not going to happen due to size differences but I felt that the effort needed to be applauded. So after a particularly strenuous attempt with much huffing and puffing, her little head drooped while she caught her breath and I felt it appropriate to yell "Yay Anna! Go for it!" from my Suduku puzzle. Up came the head and she swivelled around to eyeball me (I was hoping for a smile, but no such luck this morning), before starting on a fresh attempt to eat the toy.

I like to think it's her name she recognised, rather than merely being annoyed at the interruption to her concentration.

Blowing kisses

Anna has discovered how to make 'kiss blowing' noises, and makes them all the time at truly appropriate moments! Complete with pursed lips and all! It's gorgeous.

Honestly, she really is the cutest baby in the world.

The Indian Girl

Anna and I were watching the Commonwealth Games the other day, just for something different, and we happened to tune in while the Women's weightlifting finals were on. This is not the sort of thing that I would ever have thought I'd find interesting, but it was strangely compelling to watch.

Bu what a couple of wallies were commentating! They seemed to have arrived at the commentating box minus their notes, as the whole time they were calling the lifts, not once did they refer to the Indian competitor by name. Even when she lifted 105kg as effortlessly as a straw, and clinched the gold medal, it was "oh and she's won it!! The Indian Girl wins Gold at the Commonwealth Games!!"

Hey bozos, she has a name!

So, Geeta Rani, on behalf of us Aussies: congratulations on your gold medal, and sorry about our terribly rude commentators.

Viva la mung bean

I am a vegetarian. I have been solidly so for the past 6 years but have dickered about with it, on and off, since I was 17.

Just for the record before I start my rant, I will state here that I am 36 years old and I have been solely responsible for feeding myself for at least ½ my life. And, let's be blunt, I am still very much alive.

So. If I hear one more person ask, "Have you thought about how your diet is going to affect Anna?" or, "Are you going to 'make' Anna vegetarian?" I think I may just have to get very stroppy indeed.

I love my daughter very, very much. No one else in the whole world is capable of loving her as much as I do. Her safety and wellbeing are always paramount in my thoughts and will be at least until she is an adult; I suspect it will continue to be so until I toddle off to face whatever there is to be faced when we die. All of my kangaroo's are present and correct in my top paddock. I find it terribly annoying and offensive when people ask me these questions because I can only assume it means they think that I am either lax in my mothering duties, or an absolute idiot.

OF COURSE I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT ANNA'S DIET! I did not just bring her home from hospital and dig out the encyclopaedia to find out which end did what.

It's especially galling when I think that most of these self same meat eating people might not be as healthy as us tofu munchers, because meat tends to become a catch-all food that often replaces vegetables and legumes, etc etc, in a healthy balanced diet. Especially in Australia, anyway, where as a nation we pride ourselves on having lots of exotic species of animal, and have found ways to catch and cook them all. So I imagine all of those good people eating some form of meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner don't often stop to think about whether they are getting all the vitamins and minerals they actually need. They just smother the lot in tomato sauce and shovel it in. Then they pass all this good food knowledge onto their kids, who grow up with a deep distrust of any green vegetable (anyone need some iron?), any raw vegetable no matter what colour (except sliced cabbage and carrot drowned in mayo – more saturated fat, anyone?), or any form of protein that doesn't come with a bone (how about a varied diet?).

And then they glare at me and struggle to keep the accusatory tone out of their voices when they question me about Anna's perceived lack of nutrition.

Everyone who eats is on a diet of some sort, most of them not of the weight loss kind. Mine just happens to be sufficiently different enough to have a label. Most long term vegetarians actually think quite a lot about what we eat simply because we have to find ways to replace what we miss from meat with other foods. We don’t just eliminate the meat and carry on, otherwise we'd all be keeling over quite often from anaemia and exhaustion.

As for whether I will 'make' Anna be vegetarian – I'm aiming to not make Anna anything at all. I will still find some room to love her even if she becomes the CEO of a company making a fortune from whaling and baby seal clubbing. Just like every other Aussie kid, meals will be prepared and she'll eat them at the table (or palm them off to the dog) with her family. She will have just as much choice in her diet as every other kid in Australia (which is really stuff all). When she's older she'll have access to as much information as I can give her about food and she can go from there – just like every other kid.

In the meantime, everyone else can bugger off.

Thanks for the feed, mum

I am starting to discover those little special moments that I have heard parents go on about in the past. Those snippets of time that make all the difficult stuff seem manageable and all the distasteful stuff seem enjoyable.

In the mornings, Anna comes into bed with me for her morning breakfast. I lie on my side (trying not to feel like an old sow with a squirming piglet) and she rolls onto her side to tuck in. Most times, she attacks the breast like she's been wandering the desert for days; zeros in on her target, grabs me with both hands and zooms in. But every once in a while, she'll stop mid-zoom, look up at me, and give me a great big joyous smile. It last for a couple of seconds and lights up the bedroom as well as my life, then she gets on with the business of filling her tum.

And I think: that was a precious moment. Best not forget it.