Apparently, I was not looking as put-together as I thought in my maternity leave uniform of jeans and a shirt.
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I pump in the radio room at work. It's isolated, quiet, all the windows are covered and lighting up the "On Air" sign outside the door guarantees my privacy.
It's like my boobs have their own show.
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I called the husband to check on something. He was trying to clean with The Lad, fighting sleep, strapped to his chest.
I tried not to gloat too much as I leaned back in my desk chair.
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The Lad seemed to miss me. He was screeching when I got home, but stopped as soon as I picked him up.
He let out a sigh and settled on my shoulder. My heart melted.
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Three and a half hours later, after feeding The Lad three times -- he was making up for not eating much with the Daddyman all day -- having dinner, dealing with a tantrum, deciding to skip the boys' bathnight, putting The Boy to bed, making lunches and talking to the husband, I sat down to write this post and wondered where the hell the time went.
I'm not sure how I'm going to do this once the husband isn't here to all day to handle dinner. But honestly, I'm too tired to think about it now. I'm going to bed.
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4 comments:
I thought about you yesterday and hoped the day was going smoothly.
If you find a work-a-round for the exhaustion and missing of fuzzy heads, please let me know.
it would be great if you did have a radio show while pumping...all women who have pumped would feel a sort of camaraderie listening to the whistle-whirl of the breast pump. you could do a radio-bloggish thing!
I'm glad the day went pretty well!
Women who work outside the home are superheroes. I have three under the age of 5 and I just can't imagine doing everything I do during the day AND having another job. You're a superstar!
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