Working weekends always left me feeling a little lonely, but at least I enjoyed going to work. Now, though, the loneliness is almost unbearable. I work on the days that other people have off, I spend every break alone (locked in the nursing room), and I'm not really enjoying my job. I don't hate it, I'm just bored.
Something needs to change, but what?
I didn't get the supervisor job. I knew I probably wouldn't, but the disappointment is still here. I really wanted the job. I would be good at it. But, instead, I'm stuck on the phones. And the phones aren't bad, but it's a lonely job--sitting at a desk, staring at a monitor, talking to strangers all day. Even the agents who ask me for help are strangers. I want a more interactive job and I want weekends off and I want more money and I'm afraid I want too much.
Three times a day at work, I roll my chair down the aisle to a door marked First Aid. I swipe my badge, push my chair into a corner of the windowless First Aid Closet/Nursing Room and then I lock the door behind me and I start setting up the pump. I unpack it, plug it in, put all the pieces together, pull up my shirt, tuck the cup parts into my bra, and hit the power button. As soon as it starts pumping, I check to make sure that the cup-things are positioned correctly, and then I start wasting time while it pumps. Sometimes I eat my lunch over the garbage can. Most of the time, I play Scrabble and Words With Friends or check Facebook from my phone. I also like to scroll through baby pictures and check my email. A few times, I've even tried to make phone calls--but I usually try to avoid that because the pump isn't very quiet. I try to wrap everything up about five minutes before my break is over so I'll still have time to label and fill the storage bags, rinse out the parts, repack my bag, and push my chair back to my desk.
I've been averaging eleven or twelve ounces of milk a day lately, but today was just weird.
Daylight Savings started this morning. Arizona doesn't participate in Daylight Savings so most of the call centers in the Valley have to adjust their schedules by one hour twice a year. Because of that, I went in an hour earlier than normal today (normal being last week's schedule, of course) and I had my first break at 12:30 instead of at 1:30 or 2:00. During that first twenty-minute break, I pumped just under three ounces of milk. It was a little less than usual and it looked a little waterier than normal, but I didn't worry. I thought my body just hadn't caught on to the new schedule yet. I was sure I'd have better luck on my lunch break. By 3:45, I was getting antsy--which is to say that my belly was empty and my boobs were full. As soon as the time came, I turned off my phone, ran for a soda, grabbed the cold chicken I'd packed for lunch, and locked myself in the nursing room again. I ran the pump for more than twenty minutes this time (a painfully long time) and collected barely an ounce of watery-looking milk. I'd never been so unsuccessful and I didn't like seeing such watery milk. It scared me a little. I got back to my desk at 4:22. I was six minutes late returning from lunch, my nipples were throbbing (tmi?) from spending so much time on the pump, and I was worried. I couldn't remember if I'd taken any fenugreek this morning. I didn't like thinking that a single day without fenugreek could dry me out, but it bothered me even more to think that I might have taken it--because if I couldn't blame the fenugreek, I wouldn't know how to fix the problem. I imagined my poor little guy suckling unsuccessfully, harder and harder and madder and madder, and I got a little shaky ... but I tried not to think about it too much. I've read that stress can reduce milk production so I spent the rest of the afternoon taking calls, talking to my workmates, looking at pictures of Derek (see the blog post below this one), emailing Virginia, and trying not to stress. Whatever I did (or didn't do), it worked. I ran the pump for less than ten minutes during my last break and collected more than eight ounces of milk. I've never pumped so much at once.
Do you see what I mean about it being a weird day?
I got one ounce in twenty minutes and eight ounces in ten. I had my best and worst pumping sessions ever and still ended up with a completely average amount for the day.
...but, really, pumping is weird.
By now, everyone who sits around me knows why I go into the First Aid Room three times a day. The guys (they're almost all guys) try to joke about it, but it's just awkward. I'm not embarrassed of pumping, but I don't know how to joke about it either and I feel like the guys who try to joke are doing it to cover up their discomfort. They can't ignore it--I'm rolling my chair away every two hours, after all--but they can't exactly participate or even, really, understand ... so they make feeble jokes that aren't offensive or funny and I politely laugh and change the subject until it's time to wheel my chair away again.
I posted pictures of the little guy on my wall today and now I'm posting a picture of the posted pictures. Exciting, huh?
It's been a slow day and I'm getting a sore throat. Spending every single break locked in a tiny room hooked up to a breastpump is getting tiresome too. I'd love to actually interact with my coworkers or walk outside and see the sky every once in a while on a break. Mostly, though, I just miss my little guy and I'm bored with my job. Hopefully I'll get a promotion soon.
Phone blogging clandestinely at my desk ... pretty awesome, huh?
It's so nice to be home with the little guy asleep curled perfectly against me and Graham's music playing in the other room. I feel very lucky to have them both staying here. I love the little guy more than anything and Graham is not too-too far behind.
He just didn't seem to feel good. He ate and ate and ate and ate and ate all morning. Sometimes he'd pull away and start laughing and chattering, but other times he'd just start crying for no apparent reason ... and he had to be held. Whenever I set him down, he immediately started screaming like he was in pain.
It was hard on both of us.
Finally, exhausted and drained (literally!), I pulled him off my breast, popped him into the ErgoBaby front-pack, and went for a walk. It was a beautiful day and he calmed down as soon as we stepped outside. He almost always does. I wandered around for a little bit, letting him stare and coo at the shadows and the trees and the bright red bougainvillea bushes ... and then I saw the empty swing set at the end of my complex and decided to tempt fate and see if it would hold my weight. With the little guy settled comfortably into the front-pack, I had both hands frees. I grabbed the chains, dropped my fat bottom into the seat, and started pumping my legs. Back and forth--toes pointed to the sky and then pulling back--over and over again. It was wonderful. I spent at least half an hour on the swing. It was one of those moments that just feels so perfect that you hope you'll remember it forever. The sun felt nice on my arms and the breeze on my face was lovely and I had the little guy right there with me and that was the best part of all. I liked watching the wind ruffle his hair as we swung back and forth and his breathing slowed and settled into a sleepy and calm pace. I talked to him and told him that he doesn't have to be a judge when he grows up and I watched as his eyelids got heavier and harder to lift ... and, finally, when his eyes stayed closed and I was sure he was asleep, I put my feet down, found the ground, and wandered back home again.
It really was perfect.
I didn't take the front-pack off when I came back in. I let him sleep against my chest while I read and started a load of laundry and tried to fix my broken bed. Graham came back with my car around 3 o'clock and we rushed out to meet Maren at Ikea. The poor little guy screamed and screamed when I took him out of the front-pack and we'd already reached the freeway before Graham, sitting in the backseat with him, got him to stop crying in the car. It was nice to see Maren, but I regretted leaving the house when Derek was feeling so bad. Luckily, he smiled and was friendly when I put the ErgoBaby on again. We had lunch upstairs and then I went outside again and fed him in the car while Graham and Maren shopped. Bobby stopped by to say hello before we hugged our good-byes and headed home again.
It's funny how the day could be so great and so rough all at once.
I'm exhausted.
Graham went over to Charlie's house. Derek stayed in my arms until ten. I snapped the picture at the top of this post just before I set him down. Now he's asleep in his swing and I'm waiting for my sheets to finish drying so I can make my bed and get some rest.
I'm celebrating with this five and a half minute video of him stretching and squealing and just being adorable. It's lovely, but also a little long and, while I could watch it over and over again, I know that I'm his mom and I'm ridiculously biased in his favor ... I love-love-love him like crazy ... so, watch it if you want to and don't watch it if you don't want to. I'll understand either way. Just, please, if you do watch it, try not be too creeped out by the creepy breathing in the background. It's only me. He and I both have colds.
Oh, well!
It's crazy how quickly the time has passed. It's hard to believe that I'm already in the middle of my second week back at work. Today (Thursday) was my Saturday. Tomorrow (Friday) is my Sunday. On Saturday (the real Saturday), I'll start another five-day stretch. It's getting a little easier to go to work every day. I barely cried at all yesterday. I'm interested, though, to see how it will be next week when Bobby goes back to work too and the little guy starts going to the babysitter. Seven of my first eight days back to work were made a little easier by Bobby bringing Derek to see me on my lunch break. I won't have that luxury anymore. I think I'm strong enough to handle it though. I hope I am, anyway...
Smiley face here?
Shrug?
Whatever.
I don't know why I'm typing my emoticons like that.
Can I even call them emoticons when I'm just writing out the words?
Speaking of time flying ... let me catch you up on everything.
Graham's been staying with me for the past two weeks. I feel like a car service sometimes, but I like helping him and it's really nice having him around. I think the little guy loves him too. I don't know how long he'll stick around, but I've told him that he's welcome for as long as he wants ... as long as he's comfortable ... as long as whatever.
And, well, I guess that's about everything to catch up on.
My life is pretty quiet and I like it like this....
Yesterday was Leap Day.
I had a job interview before work yesterday. My boss quit while I was gone and I applied to take her place. It's a supervisor position which is what I've wanted all along--it's what I've been working toward--but this is the supervisor of the senior agents (I'm a senior agent) so it's a step above the front-line supervisors and I think a few of the front-line supervisors may have applied for the job too. I really (really, really, really) want this job, but if one of the other supervisors gets it ... well, then I'll just apply for that person's job instead. So, who knows? I'm sure it will all work out, but keep your fingers crossed and remember me in your prayers just in case.
I think the interview went pretty well, but it was a stressful way to start my day.
I didn't want to spend a lot of money on fat clothes and none of my old interview clothes fit me yet so I ran out to Target on Monday night and picked up a few things from the clearance rack. I really should have tried them on before I bought them. Can you guess what happened on Wednesday? I honestly thought the pants would be loose on me. They were a size larger than what I've been wearing. Ha ha. Imagine my surprise, horror, and panic when I couldn't even pull them past my knees on Wednesday morning. Aargh! And, since I spend most mornings dodging spit-up (hence the picture), I didn't even try to squeeze into anything more than pajamas until it was too late to run out and buy another pair of pants. I ended up wearing my nicest yoga pants with a white button-up shirt and high heels.
I wore yoga pants to a serious job interview!
Ugh.
Luckily, I have the qualifications. Now I just have to sit and wait and hope.
