Day at the Museum

It was very important to me that I go with Sweet Angel on her end of the year class trip. Not because they were going to the American Museum of Natural History, but because I wanted her to know that no matter how busy I am caring for her baby sister, that I always have time for her. So when she asked me, “Mommy, can you chaperone?” I was pathetically thrilled that she wanted me to come, and knew I had to find a way to make it happen. And I did, with the help of my dad, my hubby, and a manual breast pump.

Since we needed to be at the school at 6:45 a.m., and wouldn’t be returning until after 6:00 p.m., I knew I had a few things to take care of. Well, three to be exact . . . Super Pooper and my breasts. My dad said he could watch Super Pooper in the morning, and my hubby said he could watch my breasts Super Pooper in the afternoon. That just left “the twins.” Thankfully, my good friend gave me her manual breast pump to release some of the pressure of being away from Super Pooper for 12 hours.

So I planned to go to bed early Wednesday night to rest up for my twelve-hour day that would involve escorting my charges through the labyrinth of exhibits and throngs of students in search of Dumb Dumb.
(For those of you who haven’t seen the movie Night at the Museum, it’s a statue that chews gum.)

Unfortunately, Super Pooper wasn’t aware of my plan.

While I lay in bed listening to my hubby try to console her, I knew it was a job for the big guns. Breastfeeding is the only sure way to get her to stop crying and go to sleep. So I got out bed and brought her in with me. At 3:30 a.m., I jab my hubby awake and blurt out “You have to take her! I need to get at least two hours of sleep!”

Needless to say, I overslept and barely made it to the bus. Sweet Angel was quick to inform my hubby, that we were the last ones on the bus. Technically, yes. However, we did have to wait for one mother to drive home and rush back with her son’s lunch. Ah, another frantic mommy. Anyway, we were late because I was desperately trying to pump before we left. A process I have learned that can’t be rushed. I began the trip fully loaded. Not good.

So when another group of kids wanted to join my group, I agreed immediately. Another chaperone gave me the opportunity I needed to dart away and express the hours of accumulated breast milk that was making my soft flesh feel as hard as bone. Unfortunately, we were just about to go into the planetarium show and I had already given them my ticket. When I explained to an employee my situation, she said I could go in the stairwell. I was too desperate to care. I went to the other chaperone and told her I’d be gone just a few minutes. When I went back to the employee, she said I couldn’t use the stairwell and had to go back down the elevator, past the line of students/chaperones, and down the hall to the bathroom.

So, the employee tells the elevator attendant that I “need to use the bathroom.” I don’t even care that the elevator full of people think I’m about to pee my pants. Must pump. Must pump. Must pump.

The elevator guy is nice enough to move aside the rope line so I can rush by all the people looking and likely wondering why I’m coming down the elevator designed to bring people up to the show.

I rush against the traffic flow of people, push past a group of teenage girls blocking the entrance to the ladies’ room and grab the closest stall. I quickly assemble the manual breast pump and start cranking. Ah. Relief. After a few minutes . . . Ugh, this thing’s a pain. In order to switch sides, I have to balance the pump on that metal box full of discarded feminine hygiene products, while milk drips on my shoes. I start to panic about how much time I have until the show starts when I hear a teenager inexplicably say to her girlfriend, “Girl! Relax your nipples!” (I’m seriously not making this up.) Is this the modern day version of “Cool your jets!” Knowing it’s impossible to relax your nipples when you’re late and standing in a disgusting NYC bathroom stall, I pack it up so I can get back before they lock me out of the planetarium show, highlighting for all that I’m a lousy chaperone!

The elevator door is shutting as I run up and wave frantically at the only employee downstairs who knows I don’t have to wait in line again because of their special dispensation. He uses his arm to stop the door from closing and lets me squish in next to him. I gush my thanks and avert the eyes of those standing in the never-ending line.

The moment I step off the elevator and find my group, they open the doors to the planetarium show. Phew! I made it and it’s too dark for people to notice my damp shirt.