This is what 3 kids does to you...

So I am usually telling funny stories about the kids.  Well, I did something today that made me realize I need to start telling stories about myself.  A long, long time ago, I was on top of things.  I rarely did stupid things, and I always paid attention.  I hardly ever forgot what I was talking about mid-sentence, and I remembered everything I needed at Publix.  Then I got pregnant.  God uses the forgetfulness of pregnancy to prepare the never-before-forgetful for the complete obliteration of coherent daily thought that accompanies parenthood.  Especially parenting multiple children.  It seems the more children I have, the less I can keep track of anything. (money, time, conversation, the children themselves...)  Anyway, #3 has been the easiest baby ever, but upon his birth, my brain bid me a fond farewell.

About 4 weeks after Malcolm was born, I dropped my manual breast pump on the tile floor and it broke.  No big deal.  It wasn't working very well, mainly because it was 4 years old, so I was not too broken up about it.  I went to Target to buy a new one.  Although the Avent one served me well, I opted for a Medela this time, knowing the brand was reliable, you could use a standard size bottle, and it was $35 instead of $50.  

So, before you use these things, you are supposed to sterilize them.  It was a Saturday afternoon, I had just put the kids down, and Patrick had gone to a Gator football game, so I decided now was as good a time as any to  take care if it.  I fill a pot with water and put all the pump parts in it on the stove to boil.  It is supposed to boil for 10 minutes, so I look at the clock.  I go sit down at the table, and about 3 minutes later, Malcolm starts crying.  I go and get him from his crib and bring him into the living room to nurse him.  About 20 minutes later, the smoke alarm starts going off.  I am thinking, "That's strange, I'm not even cooking anything," and slowly get up and walk toward the kitchen.  As I come around the corner I realize, "The breast pump!"  I run into the kitchen and grab the pot off the stove.  Peering in the pot, I see that all the water had boiled out and the pieces had melted to the pot, ruining both the pump and the pot.  So, not only did I just practically set on fire $35, but I also covered another $150 in melted plastic breast pump.  I start to cry.

At the time of this story, Patrick did not own a cell phone, but feeling desperate and more than a little emotional, I call our friend Chris with whom Patrick attended the game.  Chris answers, and I say in a rather shaky voice, "Chris, can I talk to Patrick?"  He answers, "Can he call you back, I am in the concession line."  When Patrick calls back, I say between tears, "Tell me I'm not stupid!"  He very calmly says, "You're not stupid."  I tell him what I did. He gently reminds me that it is only a breast pump, and agrees with me when I say maybe I'll call the company.  So, I get off the phone with him and dial Medela, fully expecting them to laugh at me and tell me there is nothing they can do.  When the lady answers, I tell her my story and that I know it was my own stupid fault and I completely understand if there is nothing they can do.  I am hoping for a coupon or something.  She asks for my address and tells me they will overnight me a brand new pump on Monday.  She asked me to fax her a copy of the receipt. When I asked her why she was sending me a free one, she said, "Because you were honest.  These things happen." I cried for the third time that day.  

So, if you're going to buy a breast pump, go with a Medela.  They have great customer service.

More to come...