pumping clusterfuck

So, today I got to work with the pump but without my ID, which I need to get into the lactation room. I called the 4 women who have babies in the building to ask if I could borrow their IDs, but nobody was home at 3 of the calls and at no. 4, she'd been deactivated when she stopped pumping a few months ago. I called the building manager, who I think has access - no answer. I'd normally pump in my office, but my student is here this morning, working in the office, and while I am ballsy about breastfeeding, I could not quite face saying, "James, I know you have never had a cup of coffee, and probably never had an alcoholic drink, and I would bet folding money you have never seen a woman naked in real life. But I need to ask you to leave the office for a few minutes so I can attach a pump to my breasta and make milk."

So I went into my boss' office next door. I put up my do not disturb sign and shut off the light. Why lights off? Well, there is a large glass window in my boss' office, and a student working at a computer about 6 feet away. I sat on the floor in the footwell of her desk and pumped. It felt sort of like what I imagine it feels like to try and have sex in the back seat of a car that is parked in your parents' driveway - they is something important and urgent you want to do, and you do really want to do it, but the circumstances are such that at inoppotune monets you have waves of discovery fear that can be highly inhibiting. (Okay, some people are turned on by discovery fear in sexual situations. For pumping, not a help.)

Anyway, I got my 4 oz and will not be leaking all over the phone interviews that will take up the rest of my day.

In closing I give you The Amazing Adventures of Spit-Up Boy! Now flying, with cape! (Click forward to see the whole sequence.) http://www.flickr.com/photos/casperflea/299339228/

why, friday, why?

I am feeling decidedly inadequate this afternoon. I think it is due to the phone interviews, and RFMom being pregnant, and generally being around people who I feel are better dressed, better paid, living up to their potential, have more friends, send their well-behaved and potty-trained children to private school, and are just better at this whole "life" thing. Step away from the yuppies, flea.

I am trying to take solace in the fact that I have really cute children. I do. Maybe I should go buy the boy some socks.

Also, the dealership is now not giving our car back until Monday, at which point they will have had it for a week. This is not a problem, really, as we live such that being car-free is pretty simply, but I am irked at them. (That, and I wanted to go to Target and spend money I don't have this weekend.)