Have you ever had a day that just started out in the worse way possible as a new mom? I have one in particular that I reflect back on all the time, even though my son is almost sixteen-years-old. Join me as I rehash one of the funniest and what I consider to be on my mom fail list of days as a new mother.

Let’s get a little history before we just jump from the moving mini-van…

I’d been a stay-at-home mom with my newborn son for almost eleven months before I decided to venture back into the working world. I’d realized that staying at home full-time wasn’t for me. I mean come on, I could only watch Regis and Kelly for so long. Let’s not even talk about how many times I watched Castaway. Still to this day, I can recite the whole movie and yes, I still cry when he loses Wilson. Not the best movie for a new mom to watch every day, but that was the only thing on. There might have been days that I thought I was suffering from postpartum. I ignored it and went about my daily business of cleaning—yes my house was super clean—cooking, and talking to my infant when I was bored.

I’ll admit that I did LOVE the first few months, but needed some adult interaction other than the once a week Mommy and Me class that we would attend. Don’t even get me started on that situation… I ran from that place after about five weeks like a crazy lady. We could do another story on that at a later date.

This led me to going back to the local newspaper that I’d worked at before I had my son. It started out as part-time and quickly moved to part-time with full-time hours. I know, they sucker you in like quicksand when you return. I’d explained when they called that I just wanted a few hours a week; I was totally against sending our son to daycare, and I was still breastfeeding. They’d agreed to my conditions and set the trap for me to return.

Since I was still breastfeeding and not really loving the whole pump situation, this became a HUGE challenge for me. When we were trying to get pregnant, I was one of those mothers with a birth plan and even had a plan for his first year. Yes, this might surprise you, but I had it all written down. I was going to go all natural during birth; when they broke my water that all changed. The next plan was to nurse him until he was one. After that it would creep me out a little, so on his first birthday I was pulling the nipple away… Needless to say, this changed just a little…They don’t tell you that you need to start pumping all the time in the beginning, you need to train your milk to evacuate while pumping and physically nursing. Guys, this is a real situation because let me tell you, that little pump wasn’t doing crap for my milk. I was convinced that I needed one that they use to milk cows at a dairy farm. I’m pretty sure I might have Googled industrial pumps for your breasts…

With the pumping thing not doing its amazing job, I’d have to take lunch breaks at times to run over to the daycare and nurse just to make it through the rest of the work day. This would end up adding more stress to my day. ALL BECAUSE OF MILK… Oh, and if you’re asking why I just didn’t give him formula to substitute, he hated every single one of them… Trust me, I tried them all! He also hated bottles. At eleven months he would take his now defrosted breast milk and drink from only a certain sippy cup that had a nipple shaped like mine. He definitely takes after his father in this manner.

Any of you reading this who might have nursed your child can relate to the pain you feel when you can’t get the last bit of milk from your breasts. If you’ve never nursed, let me just tell you this… Your breasts are massive, they’re swollen, hard as a boulder, and ready to bust at any moment. Like really, Niagara Falls had nothing one me at this moment… Are you with me? Can you feel the pain seeping up right now? If not, imagine your breasts growing to the size of watermelons—to the point of actually busting your bra clip in the front flap. Now are you with me? Good, because I need you to understand this before we can continue on this journey—the moment when you realize that you’re going to totally screw up at some point.

The Day I Knew I Wasn’t Going to Be Perfect…

Waking up late for work was no longer an option… I had another human being to get dressed; change a wet soaking diaper without getting pee shot in your eye. Because this is impossible with a boy; it will shoot over your glasses and land in your eye. Not to mention, feed before walking out the door. Oh, don’t forget you need to double check the diaper bag a million times to verify that you put extra clothes in, packed the frozen breast milk in your thermal bag, and then, just maybe then I could apply some makeup to my sleep-deprived face. I say sleep deprived at eleven months because my son thought it was cool to wake me at night to nurse. He was letting me know that he missed the boobies, and by doing this he made me pay for it with no sleep. I’ve now turned into a human pacifier for his pleasure. All because I decided to go back to work. (Insert the pity party where I start to feel like the worse mother because I was picking a career over being at home).

Dashing out the door with the massive over weighted car seat on my arm, I buckled him in and we set out toward the magical daycare where he’d get to sleep, play, and be the good little boy that he is. While I did the heart pounding hate myself for taking him to daycare drive toward work where I’d spend the next six to eight hours in misery from my breasts. See, it all goes back to being a human pacifier… Don’t get me wrong, I loved nursing as this was our special time just the two of us bonding. But when you’re trying to work, shop, or be away for a moment it turns disastrous.

After getting my coffee, I settled in at my desk and prepared for the day like normal. Computer on, to-do list out, phone ready to go. I mean, we had a newspaper to build and stuff to do, right?

That changed in two point four seconds…

When a newborn strolled through the front door with its mother who was here to place an ad. Oh, did I mention the sweet newborn was screaming at the top of its lungs? It’d only been about two hours at this point since I’d physically nursed my son at home, and I had about another hour before I would need to pump. That had all changed by this point. My breasts heard the cries from the child that wasn’t mine and decided to turn on the waterfall. I glanced down and my shirt was now soaked. My pretty silk blouse looked like I’d leaned over in a cat’s bowl of water… Two perfect circles growing wider and wider as I sat here embarrassed in front of all my co-workers. Kindly asking my desk neighbor to take care of the front, I dashed off to the restroom with my cow sucking backpack.

Now that I think about this, I realize why I never could get that pump to work correctly. The nurses tell you to go to a comfortable place where you can picture your baby, and then pump away to a magical land of milk filling bag after bag. Guess that bathroom wasn’t comfortable! It always echoed throughout the space, and every lady who came in to use the restroom knew what I was doing, but then it could’ve sounded like a vibrator going off. Who knows… I just knew at this point I needed relief and a new shirt. Thankfully, I learned months before to always keep extra breast pads, a bra, and a shirt in my pack for this reason alone. Yes, this had happened in the middle of Wal-mart before, folks. So the struggle is real.

I cleaned myself up and totally looking hot in my pink t-shirt and dress pants, I made it through the rest of the day without any accidents. Pumping throughout the day like normal, I looked forward to getting home to spend some quality time with my son. Yes, my evenings were a highlight of the day. It was the time that I could sit down, release and unwind from the day’s stress. Today was no different, it was full of milk stress.

But let’s not get too excited… This is where the real fun started to happen…See, you guys are reading this thinking one of two things. I’m either going to explode and combust in a tidal wave of milk, or I’m going to totally flip my lid. Keep reading as the adventure is just getting started.

Traffic hated me!

Red lights hated me!

The world was now against me no matter what direction I would go!

I picked my son up from daycare and they explained that he ate well, but would want to eat soon. I nodded in response as I totally understood this. I mean, I was the walking feed-o-meter and they’re currently pulling at my neck and busting at the seams. A panic started to set in as I didn’t want another replay from the morning. With the radio announcing there’s an accident near the area I needed to be in, I circled around and went the long way. Yes, because this would be shorter, right? Nope, not in a long shot because the rest of the city was doing the same thing at this moment. But they weren’t about to explode in the car because your son had now realized his pacifier was upfront driving, and he was ready to eat.

Let’s insert the cries of hunger…

Like seriously, it’s getting louder and louder, and I kept trying to talk to him to calm him down. Finally, close to home, we turned down our road and yes I might have been speeding just a tiny bit… Get ready… Mom fail at its glory…

I turned on the sharp curve—

slower than before on the straight road—and all of a sudden instead of the cries that were happening, I heard fits of giggling escaping from the backseat. I took a moment to glance in the rearview mirror and noticed right away something was wrong.

I no longer saw his face…

Nope, instead I saw the upside down car seat in the backseat…

Should I have pull off into the woods and upright him, taking the chance of popping my bra and pissing him off even more, or keep going?

I was less than a half of a mile from my driveway…

Should I stop?

Should I drive?

What should I do?

Insert the struggle now…

I decided to keep driving, to lower my panic as I drove slowly with him hanging upside down in the car seat laughing his little butt off in the backseat.

Once we got home, I threw the car in park, turned the engine off, and bounced out of my seat to get to my child. I worked myself up so much that I was in a complete panic because I had no idea how this had happened, and I needed to make sure that he’s okay. I needed to examine him to make sure he wasn’t hurt. I needed to feed him because I was now soaked once again and looked a hot mess.

Standing in my driveway with a drenched shirt, a laughing baby, and an upside down car seat that I had just flipped back over to get him from, I was in a state of confusion and shock—or an actual meltdown—either way, the neighbors were staring like I was a crazy lady.

After inspecting the car seat it ended up that I had placed the seat in the super cool bracket thing, but forgot to buckle the seatbelt over him to secure it.

Thankfully nothing happened, and I’m a pretty safe driver. But each day after that I would triple check to verify that he was buckled in. Needless to say that night I didn’t mind being his human pacifier, and I let him nurse for as long as he felt it was needed. I mean, we had just survived our first accident that night, and I knew we would have many more to come.

Now that he’s a teenager and I’ve told him this story a few times, we use it with everything.

When he’d bust up a knee from falling off his bike, I’d say, “At least you didn’t tip from the seat again.”

It’s funny now, but honestly for about three months I worried that I was going to drop him, toss him over again, or drown him. It became this obsession of OMG I’m an awful mother and will ruin him forever.

Now, I realize that this was just a start of accidents, mishaps, and the first of many embarrassing moments of my life as a mom. They get better, things get better, and eventually the waterfall dries up from the lack of pumping, but that’s a totally different story to deal with.