Work is, work.

Person I work with: I'm just not really sure we need to do that test.

Me: But if we don't do that test, how do we know it works?

Person I work with:  I'm pretty sure it's a fluke.  It should work fine.

Me: Wait, I thought you just said this case you're looking at doesn't work at all.

Person I work with:  I'm thinking it's okay.

Me: How, exactly?

Person I work with:  I'm just thinking it's a fluke.

Me: ...

Person I work with:  I see what you're saying, but I think it's a fluke.

Me:  ...

Person I work with:  So we should run some more tests then?

Me:  Um, yeah.  More tests. 

Defining moments

At work today...

Me: I'm documenting this particular thing, and I would like you to tell me if it will mean more to you like this or like that.

Other person: Er, well, that seems like a lot of work.

Me: Yes, I believe it will be, which is why I'd like you to tell me the format that would mean the most to you, as your team will be the people using it and I don't want to do something that would require a lot of rework.

Other person: Could you maybe just make some examples of each possible way it would be?  That'd be better than a definition.

Me: Staring blankly.

Other person: You know, just show the way things will be?

Me: Shakes head to clear glazed over look. Um, I suppose I could do that, but it would be hundreds upon hundreds of iterations.  I think it would be easier to just define what it is than to make up a bunch of examples.

Other person:  Sure, sure.  Could you also have some examples?

Me: Staring, mouth agape.  Right.  I'll see what I can do.

How it flies

On Monday a friend returned a book to me - Milk Memos. When I went back to work after N was born, my sister-in-law sent me this book in the mail. It's all about nursing moms and how some hate it, some love it, and some are generally indifferent to nursing/pumping at work, and at the time I read it - a lifesaver to me for having to leave my little man to go back to work. I keenly remember the feeling of leaving him for the first time to go do work. That ache isn't something easily forgotten.

Now it's almost two years later and he's a walking talking dynamo with an adorable little brother. So much has changed in the past two years, but I'll never forget that feeling. My heart ached for her when she handed me the book back.

There are some things that you can't explain. The way you don't care that your kid with the flu just wiped snot all over your shirt and coughed into your face... The way a spilled cup of milk all over the kitchen counter (accidentally) is just all in a day's work... The way those little smiles and bright eyes make you feel like the greatest mom on the planet...

Yep, it's all worth it.

Embarrasing?

An exchange this week after I finish squatting in an office (currently unused) to pump breastmilk instead of hiking across the campus for the nursing mother's rooms...

---

Me: Exiting a currently unoccupied office carrying breastpump in thinly disguised bag supposed to make people think I'm carrying a shoulder bag but everyone knows better.

Senior technical engineer (male): What are you doing in there?

Me: Er...

Senior technical engineer (who I highly respect): That's not your office.

Me: Uh...

Senior techical engineer (who I aspire to be like): Looks at my "shoulder bag"

Me: Ah...

Senior technical engineer (now mortified): Nevermind, I get it. I get it. They ought to give all nursing mothers offices with doors. Looks at floor. Good work in that meeting earlier. I'vegottogobye.

Me: Oh...

---

There's something especially mortifying about pumping breastmilk at work. I know it's amazing for my baby and nature's perfect food and all that. Plus you get an automatic 10-15 minute break where you can try to relax and not think about work (ha). Not to mention it's a great diet - weight seems to fade away when you're feeding someone else. (My mom even called me "bony" the other day - and not in a good way!) Despite all of this, I find pumping at work to be one of the worst parts - nay, the absolute worst part - about being a nursing mom. B is reaching the 6 month mark, so we're starting to stop breastfeeding, and I know when the day comes that he eats only from a bottle I may tear up. My last baby, his last nursing, will likely make me cry, just a little. Regardless... Pumping is horrible. And the above example is just one reason.

I still can't believe my baby is almost 6 months old.

*Sigh*

Time is passing too quickly and too slowly all at once. Is that possible?

Things I never expected to do

Last week I had to head to DC for work. It was the first time I'd left N at home overnight without me. I was terrified. I think the whole thing was much more traumatic for me than for E or N. Or Zoee, for that matter. How could my little man really survive without me for a week? Seriously? He doesn't need me overnight?

E pointed out that he sleeps overnight. Really. For like 10-11 hours. (I know, we're super lucky.) I guess he really doesn't need me to sit around waiting for him to wake up, so really the worry was unmerited. He didn't forget me either and E had a good time with all the male bonding. It was good for all of us.

What I never expected to do was flash pictures of my child at random strangers. I was sitting at the Jet Rock cafe in terminal C of Washington Reagan airport when the woman next to me asked how my burger was. I told her it was tasty, and the next thing I knew she and I were commiserating over a beer about our children, breastfeeding on business travel, and how weird it is to be able to just sit and have a meal without any demands on you, even if it is in the airport terminal. By the time we finished our burgers I knew that her name was Pam, she had two kiddos, she worked construction, and she was from Pueblo, CO. She had seen six pictures of N, learned about my plans for breastfeeding, and knew that my husband was doing a great job with our kiddo.

It was a little weird, but at least it took my mind off the torturous hours until I could actually get home. And hey, if I ever make it to Pueblo I know I could look her up and get shown around.

A cuckoo clock?

See me, sitting in my office, door locked, pumping breastmilk and working away. (Remember, my pump makes a pheew whump noise?) Very busy. Very efficient. Bottles balanced on my knees, crouched over the keyboard, hiding behind my locked door. Thinking this isn't all that bad, actually, because I'm getting a lot done and not getting interrupted.

*ring ring*

---
A: Hello? pheew whump

Coworker: Hey! I'm at an offsite but here's some info you needed

A: Oh thanks. That's super helpful! I'm gld that you called! pheew whump

Coworker: Do you have a cuckoo clock in your office?

A: No, why? pheew whump

Coworker: Do you hear that noise? It sounds like a cuckoo clock going off. Maybe it's the connection.

A: Er, yeah, probably just the connection. pheew whump

---
Pumping at work is an adventure.

Just a second...

Who knew that a couple of pieces of plastic tubing, some plastic cones, an electric motor, and a couple of bottles can make an acceptable replacement for a baby? This is my breastpump, which as breastpumps go, is a top-of-the-line personal kit. Complete with a vacuum pressure between 50 and 250 mmhg, this model is supposed to be as close of a substitute for a baby as possible. With dual-action pumping, you're finished in half the time.

What the pump doesn't offer is a convenient way for escaping from a busy day at work for 15-30 minutes of uninterrupted pumping. I can see how this would be a problem for just about anyone, especially now that I'm doing it. I work at a pretty progressive company when it comes to families, so on campus we've got two luxurious lactation rooms, complete with rocking chairs and parenting magazines. They're super nice, but not super conveniently located. If you've got an office, it's possible to shut and lock your door and pump while working. This is the ideal situation, as there's no time lost walking and pumping. Since I have an office, I've been capitalizing on it. I sit there typing and working with my shirt pulled up and bottles balanced precariously on my knees. Periodically I glance at a picture of my little man and try to ignore the pheew-whump noise that happens about once a second.

At my company we've got an instant messenger service that allows us to talk to each other from our keyboards. It's super useful when askin questions of people while pumping. I had never really considered that this could backfire on me. Until today...

Me: Hey, I've got a question. Do you know if x is possible in situation y? (pheew-whump)

Coworker: Sure, you've just got to run testcase z to see that.

Me: Oh, located here? (pheew-whump)

Coworker: Yeah, just run it through the driver.

Me: That doesn't work for me. (pheew-whump)

...

Me: Hello? (pheew-whump)

Coworker: Where are you?

Me: In my office, why? (pheew-whump)

Coworker: I just came by to show you but your door is closed.

Me: Uh, right. (pheew-whump)

Coworker: This would be faster for me to just show you. Open the door.

Me: Uh, maybe in ten minutes. (pheew-whump)

Coworker: ?

Me: Nevermind. I've got it. (pheew-whump)

Work is ridiculous

Everyone has those days when they feel like they're actually in an episode of The Office, instead of just enjoying the insanity from the comfort of their couch. You are no longer just working in an office, but you are actually carrying on a conversation with Dwight or Angela, and you absolutely cannot wait to get home and have a glass of wine. (Or sparkling water as the case may be for the pregnant in the bunch.)

Maybe it's because I'm 36 week preggo. Maybe it's because I'm tired and need a long weekend away from work. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because work is as crazy as I think it is. Part of my job is estimating how much it will cost to do new tasks. Typically I use technical understanding and historical evidence to come up with these costs. I'm not going to say I'm brilliant at this, but at least most of the time I feel like I've got some kind of basis for what I'm doing.

Today I'm supposed to provide cost estimates for something. This something is currently being worked by the smart guys downstairs, so I go downstairs to talk to them about what they're doing. Understandably, they're happy to talk about what's going on (we're nerdy nerdy people who enjoy talking about complicated problems - leave us be). Anyway, we talk about what the problem is an how they intend on developing a solution. A solution which I am supposed to provide a cost estimate for implementing in software. Only they don't know what the solution is. Or even really an order of magnitude of how complicated it is. Everything is totally unknown. It's crazy to think that I could reasonably estimate how difficult it will be to do this. It could be the most complicated thing we've ever seen. It could take a few months from start to finish. There's absolutely no way of knowing. Regardless, I have to come up with something.

So I will estimate a worst-case scenario. This worst-case situation will cost much more than the powers-that-be will want to fund. They'll come back and tell me I'm crazy and give me a "challenge" to do the work for much less than what I've estimated. I'll have no choice but to take this challenge. Then we'll finish the work but it won't be completely right, because we had to do SOMETHING, but not necessarily what the end user really wants. Then we'll spend a ton of time fixing things that wouldn't have been broken if we could have just waited a few weeks until the guys coming up with the plan had time to actually plan it.

Instead, we're going to do that other thing I just said. It's ridiculous. Fortunately, while we're doing all these things I'll be at home with the baby. I hope everything works out okay...

Wild and crazy week, er, maybe

A while back I posted about a business trip I took overnight to DC. Well, this coming week, E gets to take a business trip to Denver in order to take a class. I'm jealous for a number of reasons, perhaps with the number one reason being that he gets to hang out in the evenings with all of our Denver friends who I would very much like to see. Regardless of my jealousy, which I'm trying very hard to keep in check, this is a great opportunity for him to learn some things about his job and to schmooze with importante people in the industry. My hubby is a brilliant scientist, so I'm more than happy to see him get to do something like this. He's going to wow them all, I'm quite sure of it. To all our Denver friends, I couldn't really come anyway - they won't let me fly in this condition.

So while he's gone, what will I do with myself? Visit museums and do cosmopoliton things? Go out with a bunch of girls? I might've, before I grew this basketball belly full of adorable baby (I can only presume adorable). No, I'll be honest. I'll probably come home after work, walk my dog, then veg out on the couch until about 8 pm at which point I'll fall asleep. This last month of pregnancy is exhausting!

But if anyone asks, I'm out doing fashionable and interesting things during the week, same as pre-pregnancy. No worries there.

Next weekend - J's baby shower in the big LJ. It's really fantastic that my brother and sister-in-law are having their baby at about the same time as us. I can't wait for the kiddos to play together.

Happy Easter everyone!

Cubicle confusion

In an effort to be more seasonal at work, people have taken to putting up holiday decorations. Someone at work has a decoration for all of the different holidays that happen around this time, but to my knowledge, no one has decorations for all of them. This can apparently lead to some confusion by coworkers who aren't familiar with the holiday season in the states. Because everyone I work with has lived here for plenty of years, the only conclusion I can draw is that they have not been paying attention for any amount of time in their lives or they are just complete idiots.

Coworker (leaning on my cube wall): "I see D has put up lights and a tree."
Me (not looking up from my keyboard): "Yep, very festive."
Coworker (very serious): "I guess she celebrates Christmas and Kwanzaa."
Me (looking up): "Oh, that's interesting."
Coworker (gesturing to lights): "Well I can only get that from the lights - they're very colorful."
Me (with a furrowed brow, thinking he is surely joking): "Don't people just have colorful lights for Christmas sometimes?"
Coworker (with the air of someone who clearly knows more than you do): "I'm pretty sure the colors mean that she's celebrating Kwanzaa too. There are red and yellow and everything."
Me (sarcastically): "What about Hanukkah? I see some blue ones too."
Coworker (inquisitively, making motions to D's cube): "I guess maybe. We should ask."

Is he kidding? I can only hope so. Happy holidays people, whatever they might be to you. Or you can be like D, and apparently celebrate all of them.

Mountains out of... antpiles?

These past two days at work have been ridiculous. I mean REE-diculous. We've done something innovative and fabulous, but because of infighting (what, never!) there have been an endless series of meetings to justify how fabulous this new thing truly is. I have gotten very good at saying things like "Yes we've thoroughly tested" and "No this doesn't affect existing functionality". Soon I expect to hear things like synergy and whatnot spewing forth. It's crazy! I think the fires have finally been put out and that everyone now agrees that this new thing should happen. I can only hope. I'm not sure Baby Hef enjoys my blood pressure being so high.

The new guy

One of my more recent duties at work was to show "the new guy" around the office. The new guy is straight out of college and is energetic and enthusiastic about things that I can't muster the energy to be excited about anymore. I head down and meet him in his temporary holding pen (where he's been patiently waiting on us for the past two months) and walk him up to the area where we do "actual" work. I say "actual" because that's how he said it - with finger quotes and everything. It was pretty amusing.

The new guy is super pumped to find out where his cubicle is. He's very very excited about his chair and signing up for logins on the computer system. He can't stop raving about the break room. "You get to watch CNN on your breaks? That's AWESOME!" He has a billion questions. He's THRILLED to be involved in this project and can't wait to get started. He's especially excited that we leave early on Fridays. (Okay, I'm still excited about that one too.)

Something about showing this new guy around today made me wonder if I'd lost my gusto. Maybe I'm jaded by all the paper-pushing and cube-sitting and keyboard-typing. I think maybe I had too many meetings today. Regardless, tomorrow I'm going to try to be more excited about my chair.

Third time is not a charm

My work crowd does not really head out to lunch all to often. In fact, since I've been at work, we've only actually ventured off of the campus twice for food - and one of those occasions was today. We went to a local pizzeria that is known for delicious delicious crust and absolutely fantastic iced tea. Rave reviews.

Our food arrives and a member of our table had ordered a personal pizza with pineapple and jalapeños. An odd combination, I guess, but no more unreasonable than anything else anyone puts on a pizza. Her pizza came with pineapple and pepperoni, not jalapeños. The waitress was incredibly apologetic, and went to correct the order. She left the first pizza behind - a freebie. The woman who was missing her pizza instructed us all to go ahead an eat. So about halfway through the meal her new pizza arrives. Jalapeños and... Pepperoni! Now there are two correct toppings, but they are on two separate pizzas. Plus this woman looks like the hungriest person on the planet with all this food in front of her. The waitress stops and asks what's wrong when everyone at the table stops eating/talking/moving because we're so confused at how this could happen twice. She apologizes profusely again and offers to bring a side of pineapple, but the problem is not that the topping is missing so much as that the pepperoni is present. At this point we're practically finished, so my teammate (sans pizza) just requests the correct pizza to go. We are trying to get back to work, after all. Right before we leave, a new pizza arrives in a to-go box, with two extra to-go boxes for the extraneous pizzas. We can't stand it and take a peek at the final pizza offering... Pineapple and pepperoni - again. Three pizzas, all wrong. First matches the third no less. Poor teammate!

On an aside, they did really have fantastic iced tea and my pizza was delicious.

Return of the bobble heads

Today at work I found myself inexplicitly turned into a bobble-head doll. My boss stopped by my cube and at some point in the conversation I realized that my neck had lost the ability to hold the weight of my head. I deduced this due to the fact that every four seconds or so, I would nod uncontrollably to assert the fact that I was indeed listening rather than thinking about what other method I could use to assert the fact that I was listening. Blinking rapidly? Leaning forward? What else could I do to make her realize that I am listening?

In the end I'm pretty sure I only absorbed half of the message she was trying to get across. Stupid neck.

Forty-two... Of what?

Every day at work there is a group of people who play a very popular dominoes game called "Forty-two" at lunch. With players of forty-two, this is an event. Nay, this is the highlight of the day. Forget whatever else needed to happen in cube-land, all that really matters is that so-and-so played a five-two the last round and it walked even though the four-six was still out. This is the highlight of the day for many. I am one of those many.

I started playing forty-two with my family a few years ago. My brother and his wife had become hooked on it, and it's been going back for generations. My great-grandfather was perhaps the best forty-two player of all time. So when I was invited to play in the foursome at lunch, I was all over it. It's been some pretty exciting lunches lately, I'll tell you.

Forty-two players are much more animated than the Bridge players. It's like the difference in the Blackjack tables and the Craps tables in Vegas. Blackjack = all business. Craps = who the heck cares what's going on? I'm getting to jump up and down!

I'm excited to be a part of the jumpers. Except now I'm known at work as one of those loud people in the break room at lunch. I guess I'll have to go with that.

Life in a cube farm

For those of you who haven't had the thrilling experience that is living in a cubicle for nine hours out of the day, it's can be pretty interesting. Enter me, wearing heels that click every time I take a step. Click-click-click-click-click-sit. After sitting, I hear a mystery voice which I quickly realize is the voice of male-cube-wall-mate #1. He says to me, "You couldn't sneak up on anyone in those shoes! I try not to wear my shoes like that to the office anymore. Haha!" I, of course, am used to life in actual offices rather than cubes, so I don't understand why he wouldn't at least PRETEND that the cloth particle boards separating us are real walls. Don't get me wrong. I like the guy. But seriously, walk around the flimsy particle board to inundate me with funny social banter. As I am getting ready to respond, I hear male-cube-wall-mate #2 say, "You just wear your heels at home now?" which prompts cube-wall-mate #3 to bust into uncontrollable laughter. Soon everyone in the bay is laughing.

All because I wore heels to work. Click-click.