I’ve been pretty slack on blogging lately.  I think that the heat + pregnancy has finally gotten to me.  From around 3:30/4p – 7p, our apartment gets loads of sun.  While great in terms of views, the heat pouring in through the windows saps my energy.  We escape almost as soon as Joe wakes from his afternoon nap, but I have to be back in here around 5:30p to get dinner going.  Come 7pm, all I feel like doing is propping my feet up on the couch and enjoying a popsicle with a bag of frozen peas on my tummy.  Thankfully, autumn and winter aren’t far off.  I know that summer is a wonderful thing and I usually enjoy it as much as possible, but I’m ready for someone to turn down the thermostat just a bit.

Also adding to the energy depletion: potty training!

It’s gone pretty well, truth be told.  We started last Monday and Joe hasn’t had an accident in the apartment for last 4 days, perhaps more.  It was just those first few days that was a bit wearying – so many accidents to clean up from the carpet.  I’ll write about that more on another day.  The biggest benefit to all of this?  Having a momentary break from washing cloth nappies.

I was going to post some photos, but it appears that Picasa is mid-update and won’t allow me to open or edit anything, so that will also have to be saved for another post.

In other news, I went to a breastfeeding class this morning.  I went to the same class while pregnant with Joe and found it helpful but, looking back, I think that I was a little cocky about breastfeeding and figured that it would come naturally.  I decided that I could use a refresher to help me prepare for baby #2’s arrival.  Those first 6 weeks of nursing Joe were really tough.  I found myself putting my foot in my mouth (figuratively speaking) time and again for all the moments where I mentally shook my head and wondered why so many women didn’t breastfeed.  Just to be clear – I wasn’t in constant pain for 6 weeks, but for the first 5 – 10 seconds after latching, the pain was so intense that I would see stars.  It’s the closest I’ve ever come to having an anxiety attack, being up and feeling all alone in the middle of the night with a crying baby, knowing that he was hungry and that I needed to nurse him, but dreading the pain.  I did a lot of praying during those first few weeks and, I confess, some swearing 🙂  I pushed through it and once the 6 week mark rolled around, things got much easier, but I would really, really like to avoid a repeat of that experience.

I talked with the teacher about it and she asked a few questions, then told me what had probably gone wrong.  Hearing that something had gone wrong was actually reassuring, not discouraging.  Whenever I nursed around my midwife or her fill-in, both said that I was doing everything right.  In today’s class, the lactation consultant said, “And I bet your midwife said that you were doing everything correctly, right?”  Yep, she did, even though apparently I wasn’t.  This time around, I’m going to call the teacher/lactation consultant after delivery.  She makes free visits in-house and then will also do a free consultation during the first 28 days with a midwife referral.  Why I didn’t take advantage of that last time, I don’t know.  She said to me, “If you were in pain like that for 6 weeks with anything else, wouldn’t you go see a doctor?”  Probably.  But apparently we mothers think we must handle breastfeeding all by ourselves and tough it out on our own.  At least, that’s what I thought.

That’s really all the big news that’s going on around here these days.  My life is pretty routine and I’m happy with that.  Lots of spending time with Joe, laundry, cooking… yes, I realize that I just said that I was happy about doing laundry.  I guess what I mean is that I’m enjoying how normal things feel, how we’re not (yet) traveling across the globe somewhere, and relaxing in the familiarity of being surrounded by our own things rather than in a house-sit or furnished apartment.  It’s nice.