That's been my week. Somewhere in between spewing rancid breast milk all over my kitchen, finally being caught in the act of pumping in a public parking lot, and drooling visibly during a presentation of no less than 15 people, I had an epiphany that I have the worst luck in the world.
It all started after arguing with my husband about who was going to taste-test the breast milk I had just thawed out for Sarah. I thought it smelled a little funky, so I poured a few drops into a spoon and held it out to Randy and told him that he needed to test it to make sure it wasn't bad. This is how the conversation went:
Randy: I'm not drinking breast milk
Logan: You're not drinking it Randy! You're tasting it.
Randy: Nope. No way. Not gonna happen
Logan: Are you being serious right now? This is for Sarah! Do you want her to get sick?!
Randy: No. You drink it.
Logan: I'm disappointed in you!
I proceed to sip the milk out of a spoon and IMMEDIATELY vomited all over the place. Alas, my gag reflex was so strong I continued to dry heave for the next 8 minutes. While I was gagging all over the kitchen my mind went into overdrive about why I was having such a strong reaction--I've never been sick before simply by tasting something bad. So I did the only reasonable thing and leapt into my car and sped like a bat out of hell towards the store to buy a pregnancy test (don't worry Randy. It was negative).
Then, to make the week even more spectacular, I go to the dentist which is ALWAYS non-eventful and have the hygienist announce that I have a mouthful of cavities. I'm practically arguing with her that this can't be possible: after all, I've only had one tiny cavity in my entire life, and how am I supposed to have developed 5 in the last 6 months when I haven't changed my brushing/flossing routine in the slightest?!?
The hygienist made some comment about new moms getting more cavities than any other demographic--as if this was supposed to make me feel better. So I pushed my work appointment back a couple of hours and had the cavities filled.
No one told me that Novocaine renders you incapable of speech for 7 hours, so you can imagine my hysteria when I walk into my training presentation a mere hour after my dental appointment and am completely incapable of pronouncing "p"s or "b"s. During my HOUR-LONG presentation, I actually drooled at one point and tried (unsuccessfully) to wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand while distracting the clients by pointing out some new features of the machine I was presenting.
To continue the downfall of my spirits of being a working mom who has to pump on the road, I finally had my worst nightmare realized yesterday when a strange man came up to my car window while I was pumping. Maybe if he didn't look a cross between the villain of Silence of the Lambs and the "squeal like a pig!" character from Deliverance it wouldn't have been so bad. And if I had the foresight to turn off the pump so the rhythmic electrical sound didn't give me away. But it could have been worse I suppose. After his attempt at small talk epically failed and he left, I retrieved the pump from the floorboard where I spastically tried to stow it when I saw him coming. Then I peeled out of the parking lot and sped toward Chic Fil A to get a milkshake to drown my sorrows.
But when I walk in the door and see this little polar bear, it takes effort to still be in a bad mood : )