I go back to work in two weeks. Can’t even wrap my mind around what that will be like. I will be able to work exclusively from home for at least the next little while so that is a huge blessing. But I will be on the clock for the better part of all my weekdays. Sigh.
Potty training our son is what it is. As they say. He knows how to pee pee on the toilet and knows how to get to the toilet before he pees. All good things.
But poop is a different story. Nothing we’ve tried so far has worked. And believe me, we’ve received all kinds of suggestions. Someday, it will happen. Someday, this will all be a distant memory. Maybe I’ll even forget the smushes of poop I wiped off my son’s foot with my bare hand after he stepped on it when I was trying to get his pooped underwear off of him. I suppose it’s a rite of passage. I can now count myself in the vast sisterhood of mothers who have handled toddler poop.
Our daughter – so far – is a much better sleeper than our son ever was. Especially at naptime. I am alternating between gratitude and elation and fear of when the other shoe will drop and she won’t sleep anymore.
We now nurse on both breasts. Have been for almost a week. My lactation consultant friend came over and helped me get her on and watched and pronounced everything beautiful, and the rest is history. Like her vote of confidence was all we needed. And we’re off to the races.