Multitask Extraordinare

I wanted to go to a new Bible study tonight–and as with all moms I’m sure– going out requires no small amount of planning and finagling to get everything ready.

I was taking the girls over to my mother-in-law’s and then Kevin was going to pick them up and put them to bed here. I thought I should pump a bottle, on the off chance that little miss B would actually drink out of a bottle. I guess it just makes me feel better knowing that she does have milk to drink in case she gets hungry enough.

I have a hand pump that I borrowed, since I pump so infrequently, and Brielle doesn’t drink it anyway, why buy one?. By the time I pump four ounces, my hand is tired. Very tired.

As Brielle was quite fussy, I held her on my knee to placate her, balancing her with my arms while still trying to pump. With my semi-free hand, I had to keep moving the things on the table she was trying to get she shouldn’t have, while handing her things she could mouth and play with.

Then Aviana, who had been contentedly wrapping her bears in blankets on the floor at my feet, wanted to “help”.

Oh- the preposterousness of it all- my breast hooked up to this machine, Brielle balanced precariously, grabbing for everything in sight, Aviana trying to squeeze the pump mechanism her hand over my hand, hold the bottle, and still her bears, all the while talking nonstop, commenting on how much milk I was getting, all of this in about one square foot of space pressed up against the kitchen table. I just started to giggle, which quickly converted to uncontrollable laughter.

Not quite maniacal. Not quite.

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