Sorry, what was your name again?

I've just returned from a breastfeeding support session, held in the local SureStart centre. I don't know what it is about this particular social situation that makes me feel as though I've never had a conversation with another human being before, and everything I know I learned from Google but haven't yet had a chance to put into practice.

I forget the names of women I've met countless times before. I sure as heck forget the names of their babies. I have to stare hard to figure out the gender so I have at least one conversation starter. This baby is wearing purple. What does that mean? (Says she who dresses her boy in anything but blue if she can help it, jeans excluded of course. I'm anti-gender stereotyping but not when it comes to other people's children. How am I supposed to start a conversation without it? Ah - pink headband. Phew!). So, how old is your little girl now? Nice save.

I'm so busy concentrating on The Rules of Polite Conversation, i.e. turn-taking, asking questions without blurting out my life story, smiling and nodding, that I forget what's already been said. I repeat myself. It wasn't even interesting the first time around. I start a sentence, change my mind about one tiny little aspect, then finish awkwardly so as not to say it at all.

All the while trying to smile serenely, desperate to look as though I fit in, and that I am A Natural Conversationalist. Clock-watching and calculating when it would be socially acceptable to leave, seeing as I've only just arrived. In the end it is M who dictates. He's too distracted by all the excitement to feed, I'm afraid. What a shame! I'm going to have to go before he gets shirty. See you again next week?

Now I'm bilingual.

During a recent evening feed my baby invented a new game. It goes a little something like this: baby scratches my arm. I say "no" and pull baby's hand away. Baby laughs. Baby scratches my arm. I say "no" and pull baby's hand away. Baby laughs. Baby scratches my arm ...

I thought I'd give "no"a test drive since my more common phrases of "don't pull mummy's hair please", "don't scratch mummy's face please" and "don't attempt to throw yourself backwards out of mummy's arms please" didn't seem to be achieving the desired results.

When did I start talking in the third person? My use of language has changed so much. I was adamant I wasn't going to speak to M with baby talk (to help him gain a rich vocabulary and sophisticated sentence structure, you understand) but I have failed. New words have been coined to replace words which were already perfectly reasonable and up to the job. Not only do I use these new words with the baby, but with grownups too. It's just easier that way.

And another thing. I'm not sure I care about what other people do with apostrophes anymore, either.

The soy bean is not my friend.

Hands up who knew bread contained soya flour. Not me. I've been so busy trying to avoid entanglements with dairy during our trial that I didn't think to check the label on something I eat all the time. Cue yet more interrupted feeds and incessant crying due to painful wind.

On the face of it, trying to steer clear of soy looked pretty easy, seeing as it tastes of pureed cardboard. No, wait. Cardboard which has been left outside in the rain, torn into strips, boiled down to a pulp and sieved through a muslin cloth to create pure essence of cardboard. You get my drift. I won't labour the point.

Now that M and I are at the end of our dairy and soy free dietician-endorsed experiment (silly mistakes aside) I think we can safely say it worked. Naturally, I am thrilled that we've finally got to the bottom of it. My excitement fades as I contemplate a future devoid of decaf lattes, Cadbury delights, blueberry muffins, hot buttered toast and cream of tomato soup. I am making up for these glaring omissions in my diet by ingesting vast quantities of ginger nut biscuits.

The only alternative is to give up breastfeeding, but as I've fought so hard to keep it going I'd rather carry on, for now. Anyway, we're preparing to wean shortly, so no doubt that will be a whole other kettle of sushi (minus the soy sauce).