Holy buckets. Once I added in work, it's like this whole "three kids, full-time job" thing kicked into high gear. Add into that a couple of major celebrations, houseguests, and eight billion loads of laundry and there hasn't been a ton of time to blog. But fear not. There are several catch-up posts in the queue.
I wanted to start off by talking about going back to work. I decided at the last minute to take a little extra vacation time and do two weeks of half-days. I think it was ultimately a good decision, but it is really hard to cram my work into a half-day. I hadn't anticipated how much time I'd need to get readjusted. And figuring out the whole pumping thing? Lord help me.
So pumping. It's always awesome, isn't it? Last time I was lucky and had my own office. This go-round, my "area" has been a topic of concern for MONTHS. Seriously. MONTHS. Several meetings. Finally it was decided that I'd use our small shared office, and kick people out as needed. Not awkward at all. My first day back I went to the office, and suddenly remembered that one of the things that made this a great office made it a terrible, terrible pumping spot. It has three large windows and is at the end of a major hallway (read: everyone walks by it). After a day of trying to pump in what used to be an inmate bathroom and then my boss's office, I requested blinds and was told to tape paper up instead. I love the planet (and my sanity) so that night I whipped up curtains. Because I am the epitome of the modern woman.
The next day I proudly hung up all my curtains and stood back to admire my ingenuity and flexibility. As I closed my curtains for my maiden voyage, I was feeling quite proud and efficient. I even geeked out a little bit at my good fortune that my fabric matched the wall color. And for some reason, I felt compelled to put on my nursing cover. This is important, because I have never used a nursing cover to pump before. I don't even know why I threw it in my bag. (This is called foreshadowing, I think. Also, divine intervention). So there I go. Pump is whirring away and I'm hunched over, balancing bottles on my knees while I type on my computer. I hear voices in the hallway but I'm confident that I am safe and private behind my pretty curtains. And then the door opens.
I grip my cover and start yelling, "Excuse me! Excuse me!" but the little bald head that can only belong to one of the more socially awkward supervisors keeps coming. Finally, as I say, "Please close the door!" the head retreats without ever saying a word. Phew! I don't think he ever saw me and I'm sure that we're all so humiliated that this won't ever happen again. But then! I hear an officer and three inmates outside my door, pondering whether I want my office cleaned. I'm assuming that they're all aware of my near miss and so again, I'm sure that no one would think to barge in. WRONG. Again, the door slowly opens. Again, "Excuse me! Excuse me! Please shut the door! DON'T COME IN HERE!" as I'm tethered to my "discreet" backpack. Only this time I don't get the quiet retreat. I get an officer, in his officer voice, saying, "What are you doing in there? You can't have curtains on your windows! This is not cool! You need to take these down immediately! What are you doing in there?" "Can we please discuss this in a moment?" "Yes. But you need to come out here immediately."
OMG. So I unhook and get dressed, then ask the officer to step inside. Where I've left all my bottles and hoses and horns (OMG. Horns) out on my desk. And I hold my head as high as possible to explain that I am pumping breast milk and therefore require (and have a legal right to) privacy. To which he responds, "Those are really nice curtains! Did you make those?"