Two scary events happened today...
First, my breast pump died! I cannot tell you how traumatic this was. I had an inkling that his days were numbered but the actual end was unexpected and rather tragic. I mean, Mr. Medela Lactina has been with me through a lot. Scotty's ambulance ride. Scotty's second homecoming. My re-lactation. DairyGate. I have probably spent more time with this pump than my own husband.
Medela Lactina had been wheezing for about a week now, and after a quick review of systems, my (very basic) diagnostic test came back positive for motor failure. The little guy managed to eek it out through my early morning pump (usually a 30+ minute adventure) but by noon, he had joined the other good breast pumps in the sky. I packed Scotty in the warmest outfit I could manage (onesie, pants, sock, sweater, and I installed his 'Bundle Me' in his car seat) and headed out to the lactation center. Thankfully, the women at the front desk didn't ask too many questions (like, how often did you use this? I would have had to reply, "At least six times a day for the past four months, usually averaging 20-30 minutes per pump. That comes out to approximately 15,725 minutes of use. Yes, I used the beejesus out of your pump. And thank you for giving this to me for free" -- which, inexplicably, they 'scholarship-ed' us the pump so we haven't paid a dime -- "as I now return it to you, deader than a doornail. Sorry about that.")
I was given a replacement pump and quickly hightailed it out of the center before they could plug the old guy back in. The less questions, the better.
(In my defense, I did try to get Scotty back on the boob...it just never worked. I'm sure these pumps are not made for in the insane amount of use I have put them through, but what's a girl to do? Scotty's gotta eat.)
And so, R.I.P., Medela Lactina Serial Number 309485. You will be missed. XOXO.
And the second scary thing to happen today...
Just as I was preparing to pump (honest! My whole life really does revolve around pumping), there was a knock at the door. Now, many of you would probably think, "Hmm. There have been some shady folks in Kim's life lately. Weird people in the neighborhood. You would think she would learn her lesson and not answer the door." You would think.
But I swear, I was a cat in another lifetime, and yes, we all know how it ended after that bout with curiosity. Thankfully, I hadn't started pumping yet and when I looked through the peephole, I was practically blinded by the green and gold figure standing on the porch. Yes, GanstaBoy was back. The Packers were on Monday night and GanstaBoy was wearing his colors. How could I forget?
He, again, asked if Brian was home. At least this time I didn't have to lie - Brian was still at work. (he was taping the game, but I casually omitted that fact.) GanstaBoy then proceeded to tell me about his job ("It's going great!"), his wife ("Well, we're not married yet, but I still call her my wife." I snorted and told him that once you're married, it's not going to feel nearly so clever), and the Packers' season. He still looked a little too eager for my liking (no, there is NO chance I will turn on football if Brian is not in the home, and there is NO CHANCE IN HELL I will invite GanstaBoy in if Brian is not home) so I rather bluntly told him that DirecTV is offering all kinds of holiday specials and he should look into. I have no idea if that is even true, but it was worth a shot. He got the hint (?) and left.
I'm off to curl up on the couch and watch a tape-delayed Packer game (yaaaaay. Not really). This storm is moving east, so it looks like it will touch all of us. Be sure to stay warm!