Mom's gotta do what Mom's gotta do

I'm sure yesterday wasn't the last time I reach the point of desperation.

The point where I'm so frantic.
So panicked.

Where I have to think on my toes.
Problem solve.
Strategize.

Do whatever it takes to get the job done.

Even if it's ridiculous.
Embarrassing.
Crazy.

Yesterday, I reached that point.

My mind was in a thousand different places this week.

I was just getting over being terribly sick.
And Gabe was out of town for the week.
And I have an *almost* 4 month old.
Who decided to stop sleeping.
And I'm a workin' mama.

Too much to remember.
Plain and simple.

So yesterday.
I get to school.
I'm in a fabulous mood.
Because Lyla had slept through the night for two solid nights.
And it was Friday.

So 9:30 rolls around.
My plan time.
This time is crucial for a teacher.
Especially one who is a breastfeeding/pumping mom.

I have my pumping down to a science.
I know exactly how long it takes.
To drop off my kids.
Lock the door.
Get my parts set up.
Pump.
Get a little work done.
Clean up.
Pour.
Refrigerate.
Make sure I haven't left any evidence on my desk.
Pick up my kids.

Well yesterday, I was feeling confident.
I had a meeting with my teammates at the beginning of plan time.
Giving myself exactly enough time to pump before picking up my kids.

Well.
I got back to my classroom.
And realized I forgot all my pump parts.

Insta-panic.

I frantically ran to my teammates and asked them what I should do.
They assured me they could cover for me while I ran home.

But I live at least 15 minutes away *on a good day*.
That's 30 minutes of drive time alone.
Plus a 20-minute pumping session.
Plus 10 minutes of getting set up/cleaned up/getting "dressed".

How was I going to do this?

So I sprinted to my car.
Brainstormed.
Remembered two friends gave me a car-charger at a shower.
*Thank you Lora and Ali*.

Got home.
Left my car running.
Ran inside.
Got my parts.
Busted open the car charger.
Got back in my car.
Assembled the parts.
Slipped on the "pumping bra".

And then, my friends,
I pumped the entire way back to school.
In the car.
While driving.
While breaking *15 kinds of laws*.
Pulled into the school parking lot.
Cleaned up.
Sprinted back to my classroom.

29 minutes.

I felt like SuperMom, I tell ya.
Or SuperTeacher.
Or both.

All I have to say is Lyla better not ever go through an "I hate my mom because I'm too cool" phase.
Because clearly, I have no shame in doing things that are incredibly embarrassing.
And I will use that weapon, when necessary.

The things we do for our kiddos.
Right?

I mean, look at this kid.
She's gotta eat.
Clearly.

After all, she's our Chunkin.