It’s Off To Work I Go
Well, tomorrow marks my official first day back at work. Which means today marks my official first day of being filled with crippling guilt and dread.
Slit his wrists in the office bathroom. Little known fact.
OK, OK – I’m being a little dramatic (A LITTLE?). I’m only going back to work one day a week for the next six weeks, and as I’ve mentioned, I’m kind of looking forward to it. Well, I’m looking forward to the idea of it, at least. When I think about actually kissing Sadie goodbye and actually driving to the office and actually being separated from my darling precious sweet adorable BAYBEEE for nine hours, which is the longest I’ve ever been away from her since she was born?!
I am a little freaked out about pumping the ol’ boobs at work, although I thankfully have a better set-up than poor Leah. We have a “Quiet Room” that is the unofficial Boob Central Station ever since the incredible baby boom at my workplace. It’s gotten so busy that there is a schedule up on the door on which you have to claim your pumping times, and this makes me very nervous. Not only do I have to post my name on the Boob Chart for everyone to see (don’t ask me where this sudden attack of modesty came from), but having an assigned time slot places a lot of pressure on my rack. What if I’m not done when the next set of jugs comes knocking at the door? What if my boobs suffer performance anxiety? WHY ISN’T THERE A LITTLE BLUE PILL FOR THIS?!
And why are they airing re-runs of “Cybill” on Lifetime at 8am? That show is the sitcom equivalent of waterboarding.
OK, Internet. Hate to cut this short, but there is a squooshy, adorable, smiling baby in her bouncy seat , and I just can’t justify spending another second blogging instead of nibbling on her toes.
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.