Me, My Pump, and I

Returning to work after maternity leave has its share of challenges. Not the least of which revolves around the pumping. In actuality, the pumping has to occur before maternity leave is over in order to be prepared for the return to work. And this tends to stress me out as I am constantly staring at the bottle as it fills, hoping I will get enough ounces to make a full bottle for the baby.
And the pump, its just not the same as nursing. Its not warm and snuggle-y, it doesn't look at you and smile or hold your hand. Its just a machine. And it totally distorts your boob. Which used to mean that there was no way I was letting Jonathan anyone in the room at the same time because nothing in the history of ever could be less sexy than a boob being pumped. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, it does not hurt but... It's. SO. Not. Fun.
In saying all that, after I had MRA, I, in some ways, looked forward to my time pumping (at home - not at work). It was my quiet time. I could go to my room, close the door, listen to music or watch tv and for 20, 30, sometimes 40 minutes get some peace and quiet.
As anyone with "two under two" two will tell you, two is a lot more than two. So, with a second bouncing bundle of boy, the idea of this peaceful alone time was something I looked forward to when it came time for pumping again. This time around, however, things are totally different.
There is no alone time.
There is no peace.
There is no QUIET!

Instead, many a morning pumping session has involved the dog jumping on me trying to get some much needed attention. This is usually followed by MRA coming in my room and trying to climb on my lap. Being the helpful lil gentleman that he is, he insists upon turning on (and off) the pump and also holding the tubing for me.

Of course Jonathan has to get ready for work, so he is in the room and because we are all right there, we can't leave ASA in another part of the house. Oh, and then, sometimes, my mom will walk in and out. She has become so comfortable with the pumping that she thinks it speaks to her. It says bathroom, apparently, over and over again. Although the other day, she insisted it said something else. But I can't get past "BATHroom, BATHroom, BATHroom".

Seriously, I have had both bambinos on my lap, trying to hold everything in place while waiting for Jonathan to get out of the shower.

The weekends aren't any better.

What used to be my quiet time is now a goat rodeo. I miss my quiet time and am looking forward to the day I pump no more. And the day I am sure that the pumping is over... I'm gonna run it over with my car. The pump, that is. And when that happens, I won't mind the audience. There may even be a video that gets posted on this very blog. Stay tuned!
 
Me, My pump, and I. Ha, I don't think so.