Back on the treadmill.
A fat hamster, having lived a lazy life is placed on a tread mill by a 6 year old boy. The boy is so excited to have a hamster for a pet, he turns the wheel double fast to see how fast its little legs can peddle. The hamster runs, faster and faster – it loses breath. Its feet can’t move as fast as its mind dictates. It topples over, gets dragged, ends up with its feet in the air, still peddling as though it was on the tread mill and its eyes wide open in bewilderment. I feel like that hamster.
After 3 months of sitting at home, 2 and a half of which I spent sleeping and eating and feeding Amani, I'm thrown back into this fast paced work world and I’m struggling to catch up to speed. Half my mind is at home with my little bundle. As I focus on the pile of work on my desk, my expanding chest is a constant reminder that right about now, I would have been serving my munchkin her breakfast/break/ lunch or snack.
In theory I should;-
-Feed her before I leave in the morning – 6:15am
-She should wake up between 7:50 - 8:15am
-Bathe and sleep again around 10:00am
-Wake up around 10:45 and have her 2nd feed of the day
-Have her afternoon nap between 12:30 and 2pm
-Have her 3rd feed around 2:15pm (this is when I should dash home and feed her)
-Feed again around 3:50pm and nap for 30 minutes
-Wake up around 4:20pm, play till 5:30pm when she has a bath
Hopefully by 5:30pm am back home ceteris paribus.
After her bath I feed her and she slowly winds down to sleep around 7 pm.
But with the work on my desk, colleagues asking for help when the clock strikes 5pm and Kampala's crazy traffic, it's tight.
While briefing my supervisor about my schedule, our conversation went something like this;
“So, it’s good to have you back. How is baby?”
“Thank you. Baby is doing just fine”
“Are you still breastfeeding?”
“Yes I am”
“Do you have enough milk?”
“Yes I do”
(My responses were brief. I was not too thrilled to expound with a male colleague intentionally standing within ear shot)
“Ohh! That means you have to express, where will you keep the milk…”
I almost told her to shhhpp!! I didn’t like the conversation, for a second there it sounded like I was a cow in a dairy factory.
The fact of the matter is, yes I have to express. I sit in the conference room and like a secret service agent, I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone. I unleash my weapons and spend the next 15 to 20 minutes looking out the window.
I have to be careful how much I drink because soon after expressing I’m full again. It’s nasty if blouses get stained so I have to be well equipped and tactfully avoid bright colored clothing. There is nothing as unpleasant as a nursing mother with map stains all over her blouse or having the scent of a milk machine – so I drown it in perfume. But seriously I hope I don’t get to that point.
After 3 months of sitting at home, 2 and a half of which I spent sleeping and eating and feeding Amani, I'm thrown back into this fast paced work world and I’m struggling to catch up to speed. Half my mind is at home with my little bundle. As I focus on the pile of work on my desk, my expanding chest is a constant reminder that right about now, I would have been serving my munchkin her breakfast/break/ lunch or snack.
In theory I should;-
-Feed her before I leave in the morning – 6:15am
-She should wake up between 7:50 - 8:15am
-Bathe and sleep again around 10:00am
-Wake up around 10:45 and have her 2nd feed of the day
-Have her afternoon nap between 12:30 and 2pm
-Have her 3rd feed around 2:15pm (this is when I should dash home and feed her)
-Feed again around 3:50pm and nap for 30 minutes
-Wake up around 4:20pm, play till 5:30pm when she has a bath
Hopefully by 5:30pm am back home ceteris paribus.
After her bath I feed her and she slowly winds down to sleep around 7 pm.
But with the work on my desk, colleagues asking for help when the clock strikes 5pm and Kampala's crazy traffic, it's tight.
While briefing my supervisor about my schedule, our conversation went something like this;
“So, it’s good to have you back. How is baby?”
“Thank you. Baby is doing just fine”
“Are you still breastfeeding?”
“Yes I am”
“Do you have enough milk?”
“Yes I do”
(My responses were brief. I was not too thrilled to expound with a male colleague intentionally standing within ear shot)
“Ohh! That means you have to express, where will you keep the milk…”
I almost told her to shhhpp!! I didn’t like the conversation, for a second there it sounded like I was a cow in a dairy factory.
The fact of the matter is, yes I have to express. I sit in the conference room and like a secret service agent, I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone. I unleash my weapons and spend the next 15 to 20 minutes looking out the window.
I have to be careful how much I drink because soon after expressing I’m full again. It’s nasty if blouses get stained so I have to be well equipped and tactfully avoid bright colored clothing. There is nothing as unpleasant as a nursing mother with map stains all over her blouse or having the scent of a milk machine – so I drown it in perfume. But seriously I hope I don’t get to that point.
:-)
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