So my normal say-anything, open book personality, sometimes wins out over my WASPy, we don’t even say the word p&nis, upbringing. Of course, with my job, I can comfortably say anything and talked about any sexual details with completely grafic detail in front of large groups, but I recognize there are people on my Facebook or who don’t work in my area who find certain subjects and words uncomfortable and I try to respect that.
But today I’m in a sharing mode. Pumping has been interesting. I didn’t buy a car or travel pump. Lots of people told me they pumped on the way to work, but I have a great office (once they put a curtain on my door) and I’m very comfortable in there. But I didn’t really think through travel. When I go overnight I bring the baby, but more times than I expected I’ll be out away from the office and really, really need to find a place to pump. So yes, one of the things I never thought I’d do was stop at a random police station, find a female officer and ask for a place to pump. I guess that’s a perk at my job.
One of the nice things about pumping is that it slows me down. When I first got back to work there was a parade of women who came to my office and told me to make sure I didn’t try to work while I pumped, but that I really stopedp and stared at photos of the baby and even try to record and listen to her, because that is important for many people’s milk flow. Since I’ve always been one that believes breaks are good, but rarely even takes a lunch break, these forced stare at the baby and text home breaks were wonderful for mental health and continued bonding with baby.
I’ve found writing about baby works just as well now that my milk is very trained, so I’m writing this while taking a break from a class at a conference. It seems most conference centers have places set aside for pumping if you ask. Who knew? I seem to be in a rather bare greenroom of sorts, with one really awesome painting that I wish was signed. Because I’d love something similar.
Back to the subject at hand, I also never expected to have to excuse myself from a meeting with important folks, to literally run in heels through Atlanta, because TIME WAS UP and Zoya needed to eat.
And then there was yesterday. I’m pretty worn-out from all the travel and speaking engagements and legislative sessions, and as some of you know, when I get tired, I sometime run out of the house having forgotten to get fully dressed. Well, I didn’t have that problem, but somehow after nursing, I realized I had lost my shirt. I actually walked around my office without a shirt for a minute or two looking everywhere for the shirt, until I finally realized it was still around my waist.
So while, yes, I can legitimately introduce myself as a prostitution expert (see my About section if you are confused) I’m not the kind of expert that ever expected to loose her shirt in her office. And yet, I guess that’s just part of being a tired working mom.