Glitter and be gay...

You'd think after 3 months back in the work force, I would have SOME sort of system figured out to make sure I left the house with all of the necessary items to go about my day.  If really do think that, you don't know me very well.  For being an obsessionally organized, worried, crazy, freak - I actually am pretty forgetful.  My poor husband has made several trips in which he has had to shuttle various forgotten items to me (a 70-mile-round-trip mistake, mind you) to rescue me: his poor, feeble-minded little wife.

For example: yesterday, I forgot to eat breakfast.  Unless you count eating cookies while packing them in my lunch.  In which case, I had a rather large breakfast.  I try my best to plan ahead, but then I spend the evening making a mess butternut squash baby food, and things get a little out of control.

Today, I shut myself into my office to pump (ah, the joys of being a working, breastfeeding, mommy) and it was at this exact moment that I realized an error in my chaotic messy perfectly organized planning this morning.

Purse?  Check.
Lunch? Check.
Coffee?  Am I alive?  Then, check!
Breastpump? Check.
Breastpump parts without which breastpump is rendered absolutely useless? CRAP.

So, my husband, who had to come to drive out this way today anyway, was willing to grab my forgotten pump parts and all I had to worry about was the potentially uncomfortable morning meeting I would have to sit through for 2, very engorged, hours. {Editors note: Sorry about the word "engorged."  I know it's kind of gross.  And I know that for my non-breastfeeding mommy readers, it's kind of an unnecessary overshare.  Try to imagine conducting your morning with two painful boulders stuffed into your bra and you will be able to sympathize enough to forgive the use of the word "engorged."  Trust me.}

So, he arrives as scheduled and delivers the pump parts to me in an old Target shopping bag.  I think nothing of this until I open the bag back in my office to discover my pump parts are COVERED in very fine GLITTER. What the...?

At which point, I remember the very glittery centerpiece I just HAD to have the last time we were at Target and how I was covered in glitter after transferring it quickly from my bag to a shelf in our living room.  The same glitter which is now covering the only set I have of these parts.

So, before I reached hour 3 of the ever-growing bra boulders, I decided I needed to do something about this (and it needed to be something OTHER than yelling at my poor husband who was sweet enough to conceal the pump parts in a bag TO BEGIN WITH before he delivered them to me in front of a bunch of random strangers and receptionists in my facility's lobby.)

And, that something was going into a private bathroom and running my pump parts under warm water (which by the way, does nothing glitter removal - it's like trying to get white OFF of rice) until eventually I gave up and just wiped them thoroughly with a wet paper towel.  I sent my husband a quick text of need new pump parts and pumped anyway.  I'm pretty sure no glitter got into the milk, but just in case, I'm probably going to dump today's supply and use frozen milk for tomorrow.  Finally - a reason to pump and dump and use frozen milk that does not include mommy having a cocktail.  HA.

I know I'm being a little finicky about the possibly contaminated breastmilk, but I have a feeling that glitter will do the same thing for LMGAL's reflux as the Prevacid.  Nothing.

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