sueeeus

Or Tuesday. Or any day that I go in to the office. Coworkers are all male.
Conversation in a hallway. I’m briskly walking towards the ladies room.
Coworker: Hey, you’re not pregnant and your hair is short!
Me: Nope, not pregnant. Yep, short hair.
Coworker: Are you back, then
Me, not wanting to get into it: Um humm.
Coworker: How long has it been, a year
Me: My baby is 7 months old now.
Coworker: Wow. Time flies. Next thing you know you’ll be a grandma.
Me: Next thing you know…
Coworker: Well, welcome back.
Me: Thanks.
Conversation in an elevator.
Coworker 1: Oh. Are you back
Coworker 2: Hey. You’re back.
Coworker 3: Welcome back.
Me: I’ve been back. Since March. I come in to the office for half days sometimes.
Coworker 1: Half days with full pay
Me: I’m mostly working from home, but I’ve been working full time since March.
Coworker 2: You get to work from home
Me: It’s a temporary arrangement. (awkward silence) A lactation thing.
Coworker 1: Oh. Way too much information.
Coworkers 2 and 3: Muttered agreement, averted eyes.
Me, flushed face, head hanging: I know, I know. Sorry. I don’t know how to explain it without it being too much information.
Coworker 2: I didn’t much like working from home, when I used to do that. Missed the people, and didn’t like to hear the screaming baby all day long.
Me: He’s in daycare, but yes, I miss seeing the people. That’s why I’m here.
Coworker 1: Welcome back.
Stepping out of the elevator.
Coworker 4: Hey, it’s you! Are you back Welcome back!
Me, smiling, not pausing my stride: Thanks!

I am a multitasker extraordinaire, I marvelled at myself, as I walked on the treadmill with my babe strapped to my back, the breast pump strapped to my front, a bottle of filtered water in one hand, and a book in the other. I am the queen of multitasking, I revelled. Calculations fluttered through my mind. How profitable this venture can be, I thought with much excitement. Thirty minutes on the breast pump four times a day, coupled with the treadmill. That’s two hours of exercise a day, when before there was none. Two hours of exercise a day! Imagine how svelte I soon shall be! Not to mention the books I will finally get to read. Oh, the excitement.

Twenty two minutes and forty four seconds into this revelry I had to pause, put down the book and the bottle, flip the stop switch on the breast pump, unstrap the tubes, and hasten to the nearest mirror where I could check my babe who had slipped further and further down my back as the minutes passed. I couldn’t make it the entire thirty minutes. What if his face was buried in my back and he couldn’t breathe What if the carrier was cutting his circulation and his legs were turning blue Thankfully, his face was fully exposed so he could breathe freely. He was fast asleep, and no harm had befallen him. I adjusted him a little and stepped back on the treadmill, plugged in the tubes, switched on the pump, switched on the treadmill, and proceeded to walk the remaining seven minutes and fourteen seconds.

Three minutes and twenty three seconds later I found myself unable to stop worrying about my little babe, sleeping soundly with his face against my sweaty back. Had he slipped even further down I must make sure to practice the back carry more often, so I can get the hang of how to tie him in just right. Four minutes twelve seconds. Why are these seven minutes dragging on so Five minutes fifty nine seconds. At last. The minute digit will change to six, I can count down the last fifty nine seconds and then it will be seven and then the final fourteen seconds will be over in no time and finally, we will be through. Finally. Shut down the treadmill. Turn off the breast pump. Unplug the tubes. Turn off the fan. Make sure I’ve got my balance, hurry downstairs to the kitchen sink. Take off the bottles, set them on the counter, remove the collection funnels and the hands free strap (great gizmo, by the way), hurry to the sofa to ever so gently take down my sleeping babe. Ignore the frowning husband who is shaking his head with that what-in-the-hell-hairbrained-idea-is-she-up-to-now expression on his face. The babe stirs and squirms, looks for his pacifier, finds it, stuffs it in his mouth like a pro, sucks contentedly, and drifts back to sleep. I return to the kitchen to tend to my bottles. With much dismay I realize the revelry and self-bestowed congratulations were premature as I measure the yield; a paltry four ounces. Four ounces. Why only four ounces I ran to my computer, topless, and did a quick Google search. Does excercise diminish milk supply I didn’t find an article about exercise while expressing. Only that babies might not like the taste of milk expressed or nursed immediately after excercising, but that exercising in general has not been found to diminish milk supply. Of course there wouldn’t be an article about exercising while expressing breast milk. What kind of a hair brained idea is that Suddenly I can’t help but recall the hours of research I had spent in the early days trying to find out what impedes breastfeeding. There was that magical and mystical phenomenon that I had yet to experience –letdown. The conclusion of the matter was that stress interferes with letdown. One must be relaxed. I should have known better. Exercise is a form of stress.

Crushed, defeated, I returned to the living room and put on my shirt. What is good for milk supply Calories and fluids. I guess I won’t be spending two hours a day on the treadmill after all, and I am not quite as extraordinary as I thought. I think I’ll have some ice cream. And maybe some potato chips after that.

After a long day of daycare and work, Boo and CC often catch a few winks. Boo likes the swing and tries to get it going by pumping his legs. I wonder if he wonders why it doesn’t do much when the same motion makes his kick-n-play bouncer bounce like mad. He kicks and kicks and kicks those yummy legs, but nothing happens in the big swing. Good thing Daddy is there to help.

That’s what the Cool Cat said as he looked over my shoulder at my blog. “Oh, so you post pictures of Clayton and flowers and household items, but none of me. IIIII see how it is.” So here are some pictures of CC, and of course Bugaboo.
Boo likes high altitudes and is learning to fly. CC will have to live his dream of flying vicariously through Boo.
Pops is showing Boo how to get up on his knees, in the hopes that he will dazzle us with his crawling ability. (I’m not in such a hurry for Boo’s mobility for a variety of reasons. First, I haven’t baby proofed the house. Second, I’m already exhausted without actually chasing him. Third, when he’s mobile he won’t want to snuggle as much, as he will be far too interested in exploration.)
This is entirely staged. Boo is holding himself up, but there is no forward mobility, and the happy expression is soon replaced with red-faced angry and passionate crying as he gets high-centered with his belly on the floor and his legs kicked up in the air behind him.

For the first time in my life I’ve managed to coax an African violet to bloom. Until now, I’ve not even been able to keep one alive. I attribute the success to a few things.
Most importantly, the violets are in a special two-piece pot that is intended specifically for violets (helps prevent root rot, I think).
The pot is critical in allowing the violets to survive under my care, however, blooms did not occur until I added vitamins to the water. To perk up the watering experience, I purchased this colorful pitcher on clearance for only $3.

While I was at it, I found these delightful stained glass bird suncatchers, so I bought three of them and strung them with floral wire to make a mobile. My kitchen window is happy to have them there.

Things I like, yet simultaneously dislike:

• junk food
• driving the speed limit
• driving in general
• daycare for my Boo
• working full time
• working from home
• working in the office
• a high tech job
• computers
• the internet
• tv
• exercise
• summer
• rain
• snow

I’m sure there are many more, but I’m too tired to think.

Sitting in a comfy chair, babe asleep on my lap. Water falls over river rocks. Gentle breeze tickles my face. Leaves rustle. Flowers sway. Hummingbirds flutter. Subtle scents of thyme drift through the air. Ahhh, Shangri La. My sister’s back yard. So lovingly and expertly landscaped. She and her man are so incredibly gifted. I am so privileged and grateful to be still for just a moment and drink it all in.

The thing I don’t like about vacation is that I have to work like a maniac to get all the work done that is due while I’m planning to be on vacation. It’s not so much like getting a true reprieve from work. I still have to do all the work. Grumble grumble grumble. I will very much enjoy taking the next few days off. I’m taking Boo to meet some of his cousins. I only wish my chauffeur, Mr. Squished, the cool cat himself, could come along.

On another note, these pretty things are blooming now. I think they’re lilies of some sort. I’m surprised there’s anything blooming as I yanked out a ton of bulbs last winter.

This is a mystery flower. I planted several last year and nothing came up. This year, these odd, tall, leafy and not very attractive things came up. I let them live while trying to determine if they were weeds or if I had purposefully planted them. Having decided upon the latter, I let them live yet a little longer. They surprised me with blooms –tiny bursts of flower atop tall lanky, leafy stalks. Not very impressive, but up close they’re quite pretty.

Peas and rice, actually, and quite alot even made it down the hatch. Hopefully peas can’t make a person blind. This little guy likes to be very interactive and feel the food. Consequently, it ends up between the fingers, in the eyelashes, up the nose, and under the chin. Some even makes it as far as the bib.

I look like one of those Asian women who paints her eyebrows on, and uses a youthful reddish brown color instead of a more realistic blackish color. Oh wait, I am one of those Asian women… …well… …blended, anyway… …or maybe it’s shaken, not stirred…

I was previewing some self portrait attempts and decided to try another, and realized the previous showed up in the background of the present (but obscured by the flash). I thought that was kind of funny so I PSP’ed it to clarify the background.

Note: I iron almost as often as I brush my hair.

PSP: Jasc Paint Shop Pro, much cheaper than Photoshop