Six months old today!

Today I am officially the mother of a 6 month old. I'm really proud of that (because we are both still alive, we manage a giggle fairly often, and the dog has not left home in disgust) but I'm a bit nervous too, because I think it means I will have to stop referring to Anna as 'my newborn baby' whenever I am using her as a handy excuse for, oh, just about everything I do that's bad (forgetting to ring people back, not paying bills) or everything I should be doing that is good (preparing nutritious meals every night, separating my whites). It is well and truly time I started behaving like a responsible grown up person. You can see why I'm shitting myself a bit.

Yesterday, Anna celebrated her ½ anniversary by sitting up on her own for the first time. I got fed up with the barren, prickle-fest that I fondly call my back yard, and took her down to the Rockingham foreshore where they have real grass and you can sit in comfort and safety, knowing that you are not about to be attacked by a Redback spider or a late season dugite, or carried off by overzealous ants or, at the very least, endure twelve hundred double gee's embedded in your arse. At Rockingham, the nearest thing you get to danger is if the seagulls fighting over the food you are not throwing them accidentally come too close and crap on you in their haste to get away again. Anna thought they were fantastic.

She sits like a cartoon dog, legs splayed out for balance and hands down in front, saving her from an embarrassing face-plant. It's gorgeous. Yes I know, all babies probably sit like this the first time, but mine is special, alright? Because she's mine.