- If I had to work a Sunday, this turned out to be a pretty good one. Ok. I know. I work every Sunday. But I’m just saying, it was very relaxed. I got to work to discover I was the only female nurse on my unit today. Men seem to be drawn to the excitement of Surgical Intensive Care. I was like a little ball of estrogen, lost in a sea of testosterone, just trying to stay afloat. I feared I might stop lactating. They humor my feminine ways and smirk when I go off to pump milk. Silly boys.
- By the end of the day, all them boys were malingering into the break room for peeks at the big game. I used to watch football every weekend. Then I had my first baby and watching something as closely as you have to watch a football game just fell to the wayside for me. I haven’t watched the NFL all year, so I won’t start today. But I do believe fully in celebrating Superbowl if you mean eating copious amounts of calorie packed food items. If anyone knows how to bring food to a place, it’s nurses. We packed that break room full of chips, dips, wings, cookies, and the like. And once you start eating carb packed yummies, you can’t stop. I’ve decided to take the Scarlett Ohara approach, and think about it tomorrow. The men folk certainly didn’t seem to scoff at the indulgence for the day.
- When I got home, my fat baby was eager to see me. I may leave bottles overflowing with milk, but nothing satisfies like the real thing. That child ate so much, and just kept eating. When I tried to pull her away, she would fuss for more. I finally convinced her she was done, and then commenced the burping. After we finished I realized I was covered with drool, spit up, and spilled milk. At work all day, I get covered with bodily fluids. I come home, and it’s the same.
That is all 🙂