Every time I finally sit down to write a post, I feel like I need to apologize for taking forever to write and then I feel like I need to apologize for my lack of structure and cohesiveness or even a general point… but then I remember, most of my readers are moms and you all know how it is. Besides I started this blogging for myself and someday I’ll probably get a chuckle looking back on my random wayward posts of those early days.

So what’s new?

Baby Bug is getting cuter and cuter every day. When she wakes up in the morning (after about a half an hour of grunting and stretching and yawning and fidgeting) she’ll look up at me with the biggest whole-face smile that you ever saw. I’m amazed that babies don’t wake up terrified. Can you imagine being brand new to this world and just naturally having an optimistic outlook? It’s crazy. But I guess it’s the only way to survive. Starting the day with a big sloppy smile is probably a lot better than the grimace I might be inclined to make.

I started pumping finally. Or as Toby likes to call it, playing my boob horns. It really is kind of funny that they call this machine a “symphony”. I think about it a lot while I sit connected to it. Sometimes I really do feel like I’m playing a symphony. A symphony of errors.

I rented the hospital grade pump so I get to honk both boobs at the same time. It’s a riot. I wait until Baby Bug is napping (which is hardly ever) and then I hook myself up by sticking each boob into a funny plastic funnel that is connected to a bottle at the bottom and a long tube at the top end. The tubes ares connected to the machine that sucks air. The machine has two circular lungs inside it. You can lift up the lid and watch if you want to. Which I do, of course, since I’m fascinated with this mechanical sucking breathing stuff. It’s like having a little life support system sitting on your desk.

The machine sucks air and I watch my nipples extend and retract inside the plastic funnel tubes. It’s a weird sensation getting sucked by air. The tubes criss cross across my desk and sometimes I get tangled up in them. Sometimes Baby Bug wakes up and starts to fuss because her pacifier has fallen out of her mouth. This is when I start to feel silly. Why am I connected to a pump, squirting milk into a bottle while my baby cries on the other side of the room? This is so unnatural. Should I unhook, clean up and give her a boob or just stick the pacifier back in?

How am I going to stick the pacifier back in when I’m suctioned to a bunch of drippy plastic parts and tubes that don’t let me move farther than a few feet? I forgot to mention that the bottle-funnel-suctioning cups, that are stuck to my boobs, aren’t stuck there very well. So if I want to type on my computer I have to lean up against my desk and keep them on that way. And if I want to get up and walk across the room to Baby bug, then I have to hold them with both hands. But that doesn’t work either because I’m connected to the pump and the tubes don’t’ reach that far. SO….I have to let one bottle fall off so I can pick up my pump and walk across the room, while tripping over tubing and letting the disconnected bottle suck gasps of air like Darth Vadar. By the time I finally get to Baby Bug she’s past the point where a simple plug of the pacifier will work and now she requires full strength soothing measures. So much for my symphony of pumping.

Sometimes Baby Bug does stay asleep and I do manage to pump two or three ounces. I then carry this to the fridge as if it were gold and dump it into my storage bottle. I’m so proud of myself and my mighty milk. I have to force myself to refrain from carrying it over to to Toby’s office door and bragging about it. But it’s precious stuff. I’ve been feeding Baby Bug one bottle a day and it is pure heaven for my boobs. She loves the bottle nipple. She hates my nipples. If I didn’t want to become the earth mother who can take her baby camping in the wilderness without any electricity, I might think about switching to pumping exclusively.

Around five in the evening is Baby Bug’s witching hour. She fusses exceptionally well from five to seven (exactly when I’m supposed to be thinking about cooking dinner). Giving her a bottle at this time seems to really fit our routine. I still haven’t mastered getting dinner done on time and not burnt, but it is a lot easier on the nerves.

I exaggerate some. Baby Bug is actually a really good baby. She hardly cries. She doesn’t have colic (knock on your wooden head) and she’s remarkably easy to sooth. Meaning, when she fusses I can usually figure out what she wants pretty easily. Easy to anger, easy to sooth. That’s not so bad. I think her orneriness makes her even more adorable sometimes. You should see when she gets upset and sticks out her lower lip. I never know whether to laugh at her or feel terrible.

I know the photo of Toby and Baby Bug doesn’t really match this post but I didn’t really feel like illustrating myself and the breast pumping machine (Ha! I have some modesty left…) and I haven’t yet managed to catch Baby Bug with her lower lip out with the camera yet. I guess I could illustrate Baby Bug’s sad face…but I don’t have that much time. It’s bad enough I typed this whole thing with one hand.

Just kidding. She does sleep sometimes.