KC and random thoughts

Two weeks from now I'll be landing in Kansas City and I am fuh-reaked out. Not so much because I'm all Nostradamus-like and predicting my demise in a fiery plance crash but because I have never, ever, ever, ever been away from my kiddos longer than an 8-9 hour work day. More importantly, the Goose has never been away from the boobs for longer than an 8-9 hour work day. I plan on bringing my trusty old Pump In Style for one last run to keep my milk supply up and prevent complications from having the boobages out of service for so long (at 15 months, the Goose still nurses 4-8 times a day) but I haven't pumped in 3 months and honestly, I find the idea of hooking myself up to the horns again to be rather daunting.

I pumped three times a day for ten months at work and there was never a pumping session that I didn't have pumping anxiety: will I respond to the pump, will I empty the breastedess, will I throw myself out the window after listening to the monontanous hum of the PIS for 20 minutes, and will I, in my cow-like glory, begin to chew my own curd after unhooking myself from the pump? Pumping still scares the bajeezies out of me and I'm not looking forward to it. I mean, how will the PIS feel about coming out of retirement? Let's take her feelings into account, shall we? I never dreamed when I decided to take this course in Kansas City that I would still be nursing this much and while it is a longshot, I can't help but worry that my absense will force the Goose to wean. I know I shouldn't be worried because she has gotten a ton o' breastmilk and either way it would be all good but I hate the idea of forcing it on her so I can further my career.

A career that strongly advocates breastfeeding yet encourages me to gain continuing education hours and maintain a professional portfolio in my area of expertise while putting the bread and butter (or is that olive oil?) on our table.

I'm also worried about the class. I just received the test booklet a couple weeks ago and the test booket is about as thick as this:



I passed the pretest with flying colors but I still need to complete all the activities, attend the class, and then pass the post-test before I become certified in pediatric and adolescent weight management. Of course you know, even with my certification, I will still need to provide a butt load of links before I make any claims over the Feeding Choices Debate Board. I wouldn't have it any other way, though!

I really hope I get to meet Abby when I'm in Kansas City!!!

I am worried about how the husband will handle my absence. Not that I think he will cry himself to sleep every night wondering why for art did his soul mate have to travel so far but how will he handle the monsters for three days straight with zero assistance? Will Gavin wind up in juvie? Will I come home to find the husband shirtless and rocking back and forth in the corner muutering to himself while Grace sucks on his teet because when push came to shove, she figured out how to induce lactation? Maybe I'm giving myself way to much credit but as someone who is venturing out of town solo with the kiddos tomorrow (and as the only one who has gone anywhere solo with the kids and spent an extended amount of time alone with them), I know how attractive crack cocaine and tequila shots can look after two days straight with the kids and no help. I can't imagine three days straight... and I have the boobs!

Some other random thoughts, has anyone heard The Killers new song? I. Am. Diggin'. It. So much so that it is my new profile song. I tend to try and stay away from popular music; instead opting for the likes of Leatherbag and Imogen Heap but I *heart* (sorry Jill) The Killers' new song.

Speaking of music, I gotta ask this question muy importante: are you a Delilah or a John Tesh Radio Show kind of love song person? We had this discussion at work and I am by far and away a Delilah kind of girl but I was markedly outnumbered by the John Tesh variety of love song addicts. Don't get me wrong, Delilah is so sugary sweet that she makes me want to eat my own vomit but damn if she doesn't have THE PERFECT SONG for every occasion and situation. She is like a lovesong Jedi. You don't beieve me? Test her. Call her up and tell her that your sister just died and you honored her dying wish and donated her organs and her heart was transplanted into a young man who- thanks to your sister- was able to win the gold medal in the Olympic long jump and you would like her to play a song to honor your sister and Delilah will play "Where Does My Heart Beat Now" by Celine Dion. Delilah is THAT good.

Shut up. You know what I'm talking about and you know you're one or the other. We all are.

So tell me, Delilah or John?