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A Trip to the Land of the Lemmings

Though my heart broke a little bit this morning and I had a good sniffle in the car while on my way to the office, I survived my first day back into Lemmingville. As did the girls without their mum. My mother-in-law came down with a friend and watched the ladies all day. I made it to 11 a.m. before calling home to check in on them.

Being back in the office felt a little strange -- too many fluorescent lights maybe. I holed up in my cubicle for a while and only once prairie-dogged my head up to see who if anyone was around to talk to. I had a lot of email to sort through, most of it outdated.

For those of you working moms who breastfeed and pump at work, I salute you. I tried it today and felt the way kids do when they get caught with dad's latest issue of Playboy. To me: embarassed and sheepish.

At work there is a room (called the "sick room" -- not the most antiseptic of places) that has a lock where one can pump in (what I thought would be) privacy. No, no one walked in on me, though I'm sure a small crowd gathered around the door to wonder who was doing what to whom in the "sick room". The issue: my loudass breast pump.

At it's best it sounds like a very old boxspring barely supporting two weezy grandparents having sex. And of course I am not coordinated to use said pump on both boobs at the same time (too much info? hahahaha! suckah!) so it took twice as long. Numerous times my arms got tired and the "boob cone" slipped, making this globby farting sound. It was a fucking fiasco of embarassing moments. I'm so glad that I get the option to work from home for this reason alone.

Aside from that, it did feel good to be back, to speak to adults for an extended period of time, and to not eat lunch in less than 32 seconds. If only I could bring the ladies in and keep them under my desk, life as a working mother would be complete.

10:29 p.m. 2006-12-13

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