This is my life in one tiny snapshot.

The chaos that is my life can be summed up in one story.

EJ had parent-teacher conferences earlier this month. I was battling a terrible cold, and feeling like crap because some people had made fun of me, and I was so tired and sick and aching. But I had to go to conferences.

So after dinner I dragged myself to my bedroom to put on clothes. You can go to conferences sick, but you can't go in your pajamas. Anyway I got dressed in my favorite ratty t-shirt and jeans, and dragged a comb through my hair and threw on my chucks (because I am a fourteen year old boy at heart, or at least in fashion sense). I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, which is kind of an important accessory for a nursing mom, so I undressed and put one on, and got dressed again.
Then I grabbed my jacket, which is really a white zip up hoodie with blue arms, and sat down really quick to nurse the baby.

The Babe finished up pretty quickly, and I kissed the kids and left. I got to school and parked in the loading zone because it was raining and because, quite frankly, I don't care. I always do crap like that.

I sat at a miniature table on a chair designed for either elves or first graders. Probably first graders. Because of the way I was perched on this tiny chair, I had to lean forward to maintain balance, and my chest was kind of pressed on the edge of the table. I didn't notice - I was trying to pay attention to the teacher. I never have been good at paying attention to teachers.

So conferences go well, but toward the end, I am feeling an ominous dampness on my shirt. I thought it was my imagination - after all, I had stopped to put on a bra, and since I was in public I had nursing pads too. I notice the teacher doing her best to not look at my chest, and I glance down and see that my maroon shirt has a large wet spot on the front. Except because the shirt is maroon, the wet spot is strikingly black and oh-so-noticeable. I didn't have a choice - I finished conferences and went back to the van.

As I'm walking down the hall, I discover the cause of this leakage. The flaps of my bra were unhooked. This threw me into a panic - where are my nursing pads? I glanced behind me - nothing. Now I'm sweating, hoping I didn't leave a wet nursing pad in my child's first grade classroom.

I walked out of the building into the pouring rain, and there is one nursing pad on the sidewalk. Thank God no one was around - I swooped down and grabbed it in my fist, and then got in my van (which was right there, since I parked in a loading zone. See, I think these things through.) I sat down in the drivers seat, tossed the wet pad on the passenger side floor, and looked down at the console for my cell phone. That's when I noticed that my sleeve is totally caked with chewed up, dried on oreos.

EJ's teacher must think I am freaking Mom of the Year. For real. Half the time I forget to send her mittens or homework, and then I show up for conferences with my boobs milking all over the place and cookies on my coat.

And I never did find that other breast pad.