milk.

I say the term "boob tube" came from the soothing nature of the television - you put your child in front of it and they are quiet. Like when you nurse a baby. Dave says the term came from all of the boobs that are on tv. I'm pretty sure I'm right (and what is he watching?!).

Nursing is an experience. The first weeks of breastfeeding - or, rather, cringing and reaching for a bottle - were tumultuous. Eventually, somehow, Haven and I adjusted to it and it is now relaxing for both of us.

Recently Dave noticed that I ask him to get me stuff all the time while I'm nursing. Water. The remote. My book. A gourmet meal. A pair of socks, and I promise, that's all I need.

"I notice you're ordering me around a lot. Do you wait until you're nursing to decide you want something?" Who, me? No, it's when I'm just sitting there that I have a moment to realize I'm hungry, thirsty ... needy.

So nursing is good. It's easy. It's the always-ready food that requires no bottles, bottle warmers, trips to the store, clean dishes ... etc. It gives me time to stare at Haven. It gives me time to think. It give me a reason to boss Dave around (no, I'm kidding. I am).

Pumping, on the other hand, is a different animal. First of all, electric pumps are loud. If I pump at home, I watch television with the subtitles on - this is mildly entertaining. When I pump at work, I close my blinds, lock my office door and sit there watching the bottle fill, drip by drip. I stare at my yellow walls and cheap art. Pumping is not relaxing, nurturing or heart warming. Dave does not bring me things when I'm sitting in my office attached to a machine.

The one perk to the black hole of pumping is that Haven appreciates it. I know he does. His teacher has told me he guzzles down the breast milk bottles but ruefully and with a bad attitude takes small sips of formula until he's had enough. Also, when I make his cereal with breast milk he eats it ravenously with a smile. When it's made with water, most of it ends up inside the pocket on his bib and he tosses me confused looks.

So, if you ever hear a humming sound coming out of my office, it's this yellow machine. No, I'm not buzzing my beard. I'm not shaving my legs. I'm not practicing on the kazoo. I'm pumping. Feel free to yell through the door, I could use the entertainment.