Crouching Tiger, Hidden Mommy

Two short posts this beautiful Monday morning.

The words in the title of this blog are the four words that kept repeating themselves over and over in my head yesterday as I sat, crouched, behind the passenger side of the car on the floor of my Acura . . . pumping.  Really, I'm thinking to myself, is this my life now?  Certainly there is a more dignified way to be a Mommy without having to fear that a random co-worker may stumble by your car, wonder why your little ponytailed head is poking up at the back window, peak in to tease you about it, and see you mortified, staring back at her, shirt up, boob out, dairy cow contraption attached.  Oh please, couldn't every work place have a lovely little room for Mommies like me?  That'd be wonderful wouldn't it?  I'd decorate it myself.  I'd hope it would have a nice big comfy chair, some lovely air freshner plug in, a cute little lamp, some soothing music, a soft pillow, a lock on the door of course, and maybe some lovely photos and art work on the wall.  I don't think it's too much to ask.  I mean, no one is asked to crouch down and pee in the back of their car, right?  Couldn't that argument be made?

*sigh* I suppose a girl can dream