Dairy Farm

Okay, I wasn't going to post this, but my friend thought it was really funny and deserved some lime-light.

[The above mentioned friend kept me company tonight.  She drove me to the hospital to see my handsome little man.  We grabbed a late dinner afterwards.  Then she stuck around an hour or so past midnight and we had a few good laughs.  (Thanks for helping me relax and have a good time!  It was much needed!)]

Y'all know how I just love my breast pump!?!  Please, detect sarcasm.  Well, I've decided to name her Mamacita.  And, I feel like her B*TCH.  I'm totally attached to this machine.  I can't go anywhere without her nagging at me.  I'm constantly at her beck and call.  She demands so much of my time and attention, and I'm getting very frustrated with her.  I mean, she doesn't consider my feelings or needs at all.  No rest for the weary.

Well, Mamacita runs a dairy farm, and I feel like her prized cow.  I am expected to mass-produce breast milk, and she has me on a tight schedule.

In light of being milked multiple times a day, I've also decided to name the ladies... Bessy and Clarabelle.  Yes, my breasts now have lovely cow names.  Bessy likes to graze on the left side of my chest, and she is the slightly larger of the two quadrupeds.  Clarabelle must have a Napoleon complex because she is smaller and produces, on average, 5 mL more than Bessy every pumping session.

Old Mamacita had a farm, E-I-E-I-O!  And on that farm she had two cows.  E-I-E-I-O.  With a Moo Moo here and a Moo Moo there.  Here a Moo, there a Moo, every where a Moo Moo!  Old Mamacita had a farm, E... I... E... I... Oooo!

This Dairy Farm works around the clock!  I am udderly tired.  But Bessy and Clarabelle manage to keep on pumping!  Once again, all of this IS TOTALLY WORTH IT!  My little man deserves the best.  There are benefits for the both of us.  I just need to bellow my frustrations from time to time and make light of the situation.

MOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!