Category Archives: Lactation

>Moms In The City

>For some unknown reason, I had been lying to the pediatrician at each visit about my work status. At one appointment I said I hadn’t started working yet, when I had already started working. Then, later, I said I was working part time, when I was actually full time. I also said there were only 4 kids in Jack’s class at daycare, when there are really eight. I guess I was fearing judgment, or feeling guilty. Or maybe I thought the pediatrician couldn’t handle the news all at once and I needed to break it to him slowly. Regardless, at this 6 month checkup I came clean. Working full time and there are 8 kids in his class at daycare. The pediatrician asked what Jack is eating at the day care and I said that I was pumping, and he was getting breast milk. Reaction: “That is just great. That means you can have a fulfilling career, in addition to the career of being a mother, and Jack can still get all the benefits of breast milk. It can be done, and I wish more mothers knew that. There needs to be something on the television that educates women about pumping at work and continuing to breast feed.” I took that to mean two things.

1.) It is socially acceptable to return to full time work when you have a 6 month old. (And maybe even earlier. I don’t know because of my truth telling problem.)
2.) I should take my blog and turn it into a best selling book, and then turn my best selling book into a TV show like Sex in the City, but about combining careers and babies. There would be a few differences. Say, more flip flops, fewer Manolo Blahniks, replace Barneys with Gap Kids, fewer designer clothes, more mom jeans. JUST KIDDING about the mom jeans.

I try to follow the pediatrician’s advice, and if he thinks this TV show needs to exist, then I need to get started.

Plus, shenanigans at work this week provided enough fodder for the two part season finale. Guys using the lactation room for who knows what, non-interested parties butting in; I don’t want to spoil the whole plot but let’s just say that one of the best comebacks ever uttered in a fit of rage was uttered, sadly, not by me. “Why don’t you eat your LUNCH in the BATHROOM!?”

>A Case of the Frump

>My spring wardrobe has always been lacking, and now that I still have some pregnancy weight to lose, and I must always wear something that makes nursing convenient, I am really limited. So limited that in the past few weeks I have been ranging from minor fashion faux pas to major fashion don’ts.

It all started when I quit my glamorous career on the cutting edge of database technology in exotic Broomfield. It wasn’t the epicenter of fashion, but I only saw someone wearing rubber clown shoes to work once, in three years. And it was close to a shopping mall. Now that I never need to sully my compact car with the dust of Broomfield, and I have actually been trying to bike to work more, and I still have weight to lose, and Old Navy left Boulder, well let’s just say I haven’t quite figured out my new fashion niche. (Pronounced neeeeeesh by my brother.)

So I end up biking to work in a pencil skirt (with shorts underneath) and heels one day, and then trying to convince myself that flip flops are socially acceptable for work the next day. I did end up wearing my flip flops because during my reverie, I accidentally dropped a chunky heeled sandal on my foot and thought I broke my toe. Here is what I learned about wearing my (really cute) new flip flops to work: I am short. And flip flops make a lot of noise in a quiet office. And they look terrible with the capri pants I should have donated to charity 5 years ago.

Also, when I meet all the local hot mamas and their children for a dinner playdate, I should shower, wear my contacts, and sport something other than my gray fleece.

Will I lose those last 7 pounds? Or just break down and buy some bigger clothes? Can I strike the right balance of bike-wearable-professional-fashionable clothes? Should I just try to meet some uglier friends? Stay tuned.

>Dummening to the Nth Degree

>I’ll just present the dummening in list form.
1.) I forgot all the pump accessories on Tuesday.
2.) I borrowed a co-worker’s car (since I had biked to work) to run home for the pump parts, but before I drove away I sat in the car for a full 3 minutes reminding myself how to drive a stick shift. (I could have made a whole post out of this one, but when I told the story to Dave he said I should just keep it to myself.)
3.) I wistfully remembered owning C3PO underoos, only to find out that my sister was the one with the lame underwear and I probably had nothing!
4.) After all the tornadoes, and even calling the daycare to make sure everyone was safe after their field trip, and reading about the devastation, and worrying about the people affected, I got on my bike to ride home and thought, “Ugh, it’s so windy.” Long pause. Oh yeah.
5.) Lastly, Day 6 of Jack on solid food – we went out to dinner and I didn’t pack any food for him to eat. Poor little guy. He didn’t seem to mind though.
6.) Just edited this post to correct my spelling of (w)hole.

We are camping this weekend so stay tuned for cute camping pictures, and to find out what we forgot to pack, etc.

>Prospecting for Liquid Gold

I may be about to jinx myself into writers block, but events transpired today to assure me that I will not soon run out of material for this blog. Earlier today, my friend said, “i just picked up a piece of garbage flying around the yard that says our block party is saturday.” And I said, “Can I pretend it happened to me? I don’t have a blog post for tomorrow yet. ” But then an exciting thing happened. Wine was delivered to me at work! I drunkenly joined a wine club in Napa 2 years ago to get 20% off all my purchases that day. The plan was to quit when I got home. Woo hoo, 20% off! Then I thought, why not just get one shipment and then cancel? So four times a year I get wine shipped to me at work (can’t be shipped at home because an adult has to sign for it.) I always think, “Yea! wine! I’ll plan a special meal and drink delicious wine with it! Then I make my usual weekly menu of pizza, spaghetti, tofu stir fry, chicken something, leftovers, burritos, and The Southern Sun. I did recently make risotto and had to use some good wine and it was soooo good. But mostly, I am accidentally building up a collection of wine by not canceling my wine club membership, not drinking the good wine because I never plan a good meal, and then buying Red Truck whenever it’s on sale and drinking it with pizza.

ANYWAY, my wine arrived today, and I picked it up on the way back from the lactation room. I always mean to bring some sort of milk satchel, with which to conceal the expressed breast milk, but it’s not that hard to conceal 3 ounces in the palm of your hand. Unless you are carrying a box of wine. So I picked up the wine, and laid the ziplock bag of milk across the top of the box and went on my merry way across the parking lot back to my office, contemplating the blood of life, and mothers milk. It was sunny, and I was smiling. I smiled at the VP in the suit when I walked in, and he even seemed about to smile back at me when I tripped and the bag of milk went flying and landed at his feet.



That was the conversation we had instead. Very professional. I snatched up the milk and ran away. Stopped at my bosses office and had this conversation:

“I just tripped right in front of [VP] while carrying milk and a box of wine.”
“I hope you saved the wine.”
“I did save the wine, but the milk is more valuable!”
“Is it? You can always make more milk.”

Fortunately the milk survived too. My dignity on the other hand? Not so much.

(Photo Credit to either Melanie or Jill who took this picture after we were bullied into a tour at Gundlach Bundschu)

>Rolling, Rolling, Rolling Part 2

>Tuesday the daycare poured out a bottle of Jack’s milk because they tried feeding it to him and he fell asleep. When he woke up the milk had expired. I have milk issues people! You can’t just feed the milk to other babies or pour it down the sink! I furiously turned to the internets for backup, but the internets seem to think that the milk needed to be poured out or else it would be spoiled. This never happened when Dave stayed home with Luke! Oh, yeah, he probably did not concern himself with milk storage guidelines and that was fine with everyone.

I left work at 3:15 to nurse Jack. Another baby was being fed when I got there, and I kid you not, the bottle had 10 ounces in it. I struggle to eek out three 4.5-5.5 ounce bottles a day. 10 ounces? Are you kidding me? It turns out there is this stuff called formula. All the babies drink it. All the babies except Jack that is, which may be why they don’t realize I’ll have a minor heart attack if they waste any milk. Long story short, I am awesome.

But the point is, after I fed Jack, the oldest kid in the infant room, who is anxiously awaiting a space in the toddler room, kept coming over and putting a big cube on Jack’s lap. Then Jack pushed it off, then the kid put it back and I realized: It’s time to start teaching this kid to play ball!

So, after dinner Jack sat on my lap, and Luke rolled us a ball. Jack picked it up, and threw it back. It was the greatest thing ever! Except when Luke got tired of rolling and felt the need to toss it so it landed exactly on Jack’s legs where he’d have an easy time picking it up. OK, that was fine, but when Luke missed it got a little worrisome. Luke was also constantly correcting my method of teaching Jack to roll a ball. I finally said, “Do you know how to roll a ball? Who do you think taught you? Yeah, that’s right, I did. I know how to teach someone to roll a ball. Do not question my methods.” Then when Jack spit out the pacifier in favor of gumming the ball, it was all over. You know, for someone who has had everything he ever wanted all to himself for 5 years, Luke isn’t that great about sharing his toys. Oh. Yeah. Got it. It’s only gonna get worse, kid.