I have a new job. I'm not going to go into details about it on the internets but all you need to know is that I have a new job and I had to go into the office today to complete all my new hire paperwork, benefits, and get fingerprinted.
Here is where things go wrong. I had to take the Beast with me to do all this paperwork. I thought it was no big deal, I take him on errands and out to lunch/dinner all the time. He's a great baby and usually sleeps through everything. It will be easy. I'll be in and out of there, no problem.
So I drive to the office. I am dressed professionally and actually wearing work heels. The Beast looks adorable. Everything is great. I got to the office about 20 minutes early. I decided to hang out with the Beast in the back of the car for a bit. I noticed his diaper needed to be changed, so I changed it on the back seat of my car. Not super easy, but not impossible. Everything is still good. I still had some time, so I gave him a bit of the bottle I brought for him. Everything still good. Then I hear a small explosion emit from my son. Crap, he needs his diaper changed again. I change it. This time he gets poo on his socks (don't ask me how). No worries, I have extra socks. Everything still ok.
I go into the office and check in with the receptionist who informs me that I'm at the wrong building and I need to go down the street. Ok, fine. I wheel the Beast back to the car, wrestle my massive stroller back into the car and head to the other building. I'm starting to sweat in my nice work dress but other than that everything is fine.
I check in with the receptionist at the correct building and everyone coming into the office oohs and aahs over my cute baby. He smiles and coos, totally adorable. I relax a bit and wait for my appointment with HR. I fill out all my paperwork and turn it in. Now I'm just waiting for the benefits lady. I wait and wait. I hear another explosion from the Beast. Crap he needs his diaper changed again. But where do I do it? I'm trying to be nonchalant about being at my new office with my freaking baby. Changing a diaper is not going to help that situation. It seems rude to change his diaper on the conference table, so I change it in the stroller. Not easy, but manageable.
I'm taken into another room for fingerprinting. The Beast starts crying while I'm getting fingerprinted which is taking forever because each of my fingerprints keep getting rejected by the stupid machine. The lady says, "um I think I hear your son." Oh right, I should tend to my baby that I totally, inappropriately brought to my new job. I run into the other room, shove the pacificer in his mouth and finish the fingerprinting.
I return to my original room. A few more people come into the room to ooh and aah over my son. It's very nice of them to say how cute he is, but I can see he's starting to freak out about all the strange faces making strange noises at him. I mean, he's only 6 weeks old. It was a bit much. So I give him his pacificer again, but he continues to fuss. The Beast is no fool. He knows that no matter how hard he sucks on that binky, nothing is coming out. So I give him the rest of the bottle. The Beast is pacified for now.
The benefits lady finally comes in. She asks me a million questions about the baby who is starting to freak out again. I'm thinking, ok give me the insurance packet and let me get the hell out of here. Then she asks me if I'm breastfeeding. What? Why does she care how I feed my son? Is this going to go in my employee file? Is she going to tell the insurance company? I say yes, because I am, and thankfully this is the right answer with her. She commends me on my choice (like that matters) all while the Beast is starting to go into full freak out mode. She looks at him and says, "I think he wants to nurse."
Wait, did she just tell me what my son wants? Look lady, do not tell me what my son wants. You have no idea what he wants. You don't know him or me. And you clearly missed him guzzling a huge bottle minutes earlier. What he wants is for you to hurry the hell up so we can leave and he can take a nap. So she leaves the room and I hear another explosion. So I change the Beast's diaper yet again. The benefits lady comes back and finally says I can leave. Thank the Good Lord!
I'm so frazzled by the whole experience I drive through the nearest Jack in the Box and desperately ask "do you have cookies?" They don't. They have chocolate cake and cheesecake and something else but no freaking cookies. I decide the chocolate cake isn't worth it and just get a diet coke which is delicious. I got home, nursed the Beast three times in three hours, cooked dinner, cleaned up the dinner I cooked, gave the Beast a bath, nursed again, and he finally fell asleep.
Lesson learned: babies and offices do not mix. The whole experience could have been much, much worse but it still had me unbelievably stressed out. Time for a little wine.