The other morning was interesting. I had an 8:00 AM meeting. The meeting was previously scheduled for the afternoon, but I re-scheduled it to accommodate the person with whom that I was meeting. Therein lies one of my problems. Sometimes being accommodating is what gets me into half of the battles I get into with time. I adjust, sometimes “to be nice” and jam myself up and put strain on me and my schedule.
Then the mental debate started. Did I have enough time to pump? It went something like this, “I am still breastfeeding. How could I forget that I had to pump. I go to work every day. Whenever the baby isn’t up in time I pump to ensure that she has enough milk for the day and I am not uncomfortable. Did I really forget?! It’s 7:30. Maybe I do really have time to pump. I can do an efficient pump. That only takes ten minutes. If I do that, she’ll have a nice warm bottle for them she wakes up and I won’t be uncomfortable. S--t! I think it’s really cold out. I bet there’s frost on my windows. I’ll probably have to scrape them and let my car warm up. That will take some time. I still have to drive there. It is only ten minutes away and against traffic, but this is Pittsburgh. The land of inexplicable traffic jams. I really can’t be late. This is my first time meeting with this person and it’s really important.”
I realized that I didn’t have time to pump after all. So I left for the meeting, unclear about how the pumping situation would play out during the day and really glad that there was enough pumped milk in the refrigerator to last for the day.
And wouldn’t you know it. There was frost on my windows. And there was a little traffic. I drove to my meeting a little nervous. I walked into the lobby and told the guard who I was there to see. He called her and merely said, “She’s here.” I got nervous again. Was I late??? Then I looked at my phone. As I did the clock struck “8:00”. I was relieved. I was on time.
Yeah, I know that I cut it way close—too close. And I will try to get better at it tomorrow. Also, by Morehouse standards I was late. Those men live by the proposition that “To be early is to be on time and to be on time is to be late.”
I am still striving and trying to be the best mom and woman that I can be. And on the way, I hope to be on time, I mean early, more often!
- Maybe “being nice” is my Shakespearean tragic flaw too???
- How many flaws can one person have and still be spectacular? If anybody knows that answer, please let me know. Wait! Maybe by asking this question I am seeking approval. Maybe “my need for approval” is yet another Shakespearean flaw???
Then the mental debate started. Did I have enough time to pump? It went something like this, “I am still breastfeeding. How could I forget that I had to pump. I go to work every day. Whenever the baby isn’t up in time I pump to ensure that she has enough milk for the day and I am not uncomfortable. Did I really forget?! It’s 7:30. Maybe I do really have time to pump. I can do an efficient pump. That only takes ten minutes. If I do that, she’ll have a nice warm bottle for them she wakes up and I won’t be uncomfortable. S--t! I think it’s really cold out. I bet there’s frost on my windows. I’ll probably have to scrape them and let my car warm up. That will take some time. I still have to drive there. It is only ten minutes away and against traffic, but this is Pittsburgh. The land of inexplicable traffic jams. I really can’t be late. This is my first time meeting with this person and it’s really important.”
I realized that I didn’t have time to pump after all. So I left for the meeting, unclear about how the pumping situation would play out during the day and really glad that there was enough pumped milk in the refrigerator to last for the day.
And wouldn’t you know it. There was frost on my windows. And there was a little traffic. I drove to my meeting a little nervous. I walked into the lobby and told the guard who I was there to see. He called her and merely said, “She’s here.” I got nervous again. Was I late??? Then I looked at my phone. As I did the clock struck “8:00”. I was relieved. I was on time.
Yeah, I know that I cut it way close—too close. And I will try to get better at it tomorrow. Also, by Morehouse standards I was late. Those men live by the proposition that “To be early is to be on time and to be on time is to be late.”
I am still striving and trying to be the best mom and woman that I can be. And on the way, I hope to be on time, I mean early, more often!
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