I'm up in the middle of the night to pump and can't seem to get back to sleep (which I will regret tomorrow). To give some context to the last two posts (and likely future ones), I think I need to offer some background. I'm not sure why I expect people to feel bad for me- many, many people have much, much harder lives. And I'm not exactly sure why I think that people feeling bad for me will make me feel better (it usually makes me feel worse), but that seems to be the brain space I'm in.
So you get a sense of what I'm dealing with, here's how my typical week unfolds:
Monday and Tuesday, get the girls to Day Care and work a normal day. Pump twice at work. Hold bi-weekly departmental meetings with my teams and monthly departmental strategy meetings. Tuesday night, do readings and prepare notes for class on Wednesday.
Wednesday, get the girls to Day Care and start the work day early with staff meeting, which I run. Work until 3:30, then prepare files (paper and electronic) for Thursday morning. Run to NYU for class. Pump at least once, preferably twice. After class, field questions from students, thereby putting me home too late to feed Eleri before bed. Pump some more.
Thursday and Friday, drive Clio to school, punch the meter, set up shop at Starbucks and work remotely for two hours. Punch the meter, walk or drive the few blocks to school, drive Clio to day care, feed Eleri in the back room, re-park the car, grab some leftovers, and take the subway into the city to work for 4 hours. Pump once.
That's just the basic, and obviously doesn't include things like actual work at work, meal planning, cooking, doing dishes, blogging, corresponding with friends and family, laundry, grocery shopping, time with the kids, etc. at home.
This week, let's add a few specifics on top: Monday, parent-teacher conference for Clio; 4-month check up for Eleri. On the way from one to the other, the fuel light comes on in the car. At the Doctor's office, 1 1/2 hours turns out not to be enough on the meter, so in the middle of the appointment, re-dress Eleri, take her outside, punch the meter, return. Head to the pharmacy, punch the meter. An hour wait for saline at the pharmacy means drive to day care, pick up Clio, stop to get gas, head back to the pharmacy; search for 10 minutes for a quarter for the meter (roll of quarters begged from a bank I don't belong to was apparently stolen out of the car when I left it unlocked in the school pick up craziness); head home to feed Clio a late dinner and nebulize, nebulize Eleri. Pump.
Tuesday, back to the Doctor. New prescription for me: directly after feeding Eleri, pump and feed THAT to her, too. Doctor visits may be daily this week. Work from home on Strategic Plan, due back to Anne on Wednesday. Field last minute questions from students, whose papers are due Wednesday. Pump, pump, pump.
Wednesday, input to Strategic Plan draft due. Between staff meeting and class, head out of the office to meet with prospective web redesigners. Receive student papers (23 students x 15 pages of critical theory each = shoot me now.) Who has time to pump?
Thursday, pull together images for lecture for Friday. Finalize changes to group health care plan (benefits manager only in on Thursdays, and we're just under the wire for renewal deadline).
Friday, head way uptown to City College to give a lecture to a class of undergrads; get back to Brooklyn in time to pick up Clio at school. Take the subway or bus back to Day Care.
Hmmmm..... somehow, stripping the week down without all the details and little things that inevitably go wrong (and without my actual to-do lists layered over the top) makes it seem like this should be doable after all. I guess if I could just figure out how to strip the stress and emotion out of it when I'm actually doing it, I'd be way better off. But to do that, I might need to get a little more sleep. And then, when would I pump?
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