I'm not sick of nursing - far from it - but I am so freaking sick of pumping. I cut my pumping sessions at work from 3 to 2...which means I actually get a lunch break outside of the office. This taste of freedom only seemed to make my little plastic-tubed tether more onerous.
I am appreciative that my pump lets me breastfeed at all. But if I can get occasionally sick of my lovely husband and daughter, I can sure as hell get sick of my breastpump. Today I am giving it the finger as well as the stink eye.
Anybody got a more uplifting act of rebellion? I could write a hate poem. Or start a punk band that only writes songs about our angst towards breast pumps. (I will write a special song for the ridiculous rubberband/bra contraptions they sell to facilitate "hands free" pumping.) Or I could start a revolution. Power to the dirty pillows! Free them from their shackles of plastic tubing and rubber! Let them hang free among the tongues and lips of their sons and daughters! I'll paint murals on the subways of sucklings mothers crushing breast pumps underfoot.
I am appreciative that my pump lets me breastfeed at all. But if I can get occasionally sick of my lovely husband and daughter, I can sure as hell get sick of my breastpump. Today I am giving it the finger as well as the stink eye.
Anybody got a more uplifting act of rebellion? I could write a hate poem. Or start a punk band that only writes songs about our angst towards breast pumps. (I will write a special song for the ridiculous rubberband/bra contraptions they sell to facilitate "hands free" pumping.) Or I could start a revolution. Power to the dirty pillows! Free them from their shackles of plastic tubing and rubber! Let them hang free among the tongues and lips of their sons and daughters! I'll paint murals on the subways of sucklings mothers crushing breast pumps underfoot.
1 comment:
I love pictures like this and remember feeling like a cow--nursing was fine but not the pump. Then again, if I was engorged and came home the pump was fabulous!
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