Be afraid.

Newly minted ACLS provider here. Only had to remediate once. Ha. Seriously. I have no patience for these asinine multiple choice exams. So I came, I stuffed tubes into a dummy, I took the test, the nice man pointed out a question or six I missed and off I went, while the serious students sweated it out for another 40 minutes. Card in hand. Makes you feel good, no? Safe. Actually, to explain my rush, I have a question for you. Have YOU ever done CPR while breastmilk runs into your bra? No? Then I will not feel guilty, even if my goody-two-shoes nature is writhing from the shame of it all. Though we are at T-minus 5 weeks and counting until the great Return, we have still not figured out exactly how to keep the baby nourished and hydrated during the day. He has no interest in bottles, cups or bongs of formula or breastmilk. He will "drink" small amounts of diluted juice out of a sippy cup, but really what he does is take it in, taste it, grin, and then let it all gush out onto his bib. Gabriel's a nursing boy, and that's really it for the moment. Maybe Dawna Fantastic and the daycare ladies will have an idea about it. These last two days, I tried pumping with my ridiculous little hand pump. In my car. At lunch. But I only got a couple ounces before deciding to give up before the security guards rode over in their little club cars to ask me what I was doing. A friend is sending me her Medela (I keep wanting to write Mendela) pump, so I will get serious about this pumping thing toute de sweet. Gabriel seems to be embracing, once again, the idea that food is for eating so with any luck by the time he's actually at daycare, he won't starve to death. I do wish, now, that I had actually made an effort to get G to take a bottle, way back when he was a baby. Too late now he's so old and crotchity and set in his ways.