Common Crazy and The Talking Breast Pump.

There’s a phenomenon in life that I’ll call The Common Crazy.  The Common Crazy are all of the things that the majority of us do or think, but are afraid to admit to, because we think we might be the only ones who do or think them, and therefore, everyone else will TOTALLY think we’re crazy.

Like, for instance, picking our nose (c’mon, we all have to do it sometimes), or not being able to automatically tell our left from our right (I thought I was the only one with this problem for YEARS).

And, even if we are nearly positive that something is a Common Crazy, there are those people in the world that would rather die than admit to a C.C., so if you make the mistake of admitting YOUR C.C. to them, they will, of course, make you feel as crazy as possible.

(I’m sure there’s a nose-picking-denier out there somewhere that is just DYING to comment that they do not EVER pick their nose.)

And, the Common Crazy I’d like to talk about today is The Phenomenon of The Talking Breast Pump.


(Yes, I’m sure that all of you guy readers (like, all three of you) are horrifically uncomfortable with this subject right now.  But I PROMISE you that your discomfort is ridiculously miniscule compared to the discomfort that the item in question brings us ladies.)

It all started in November when I wrote a post about another Common Crazy, Phantom Baby (the phenomenon of hearing screaming babies when babies aren’t actually screaming).  Many more people than I expected commented in to agree that they, too, have experienced Phantom Baby, but one of my readers, Lori, was even braver than that:

Lori T November 24, 2010 at 11:20 pmAs I was reading this, Lydia started crying. I checked the video monitor, and she was definitely sound asleep. Creepy. Oh, also, my breast pump talks to me. How’s that for crazy!

I had worked so hard to repress all of my breast pump memories from Ali’s babyhood – the pain, the unbelievable time consumption, the visual of being a cow on a dairy farm…

But Lori’s comment immediately took me back to that era, and I totally remembered that rhythmic sound of the motor, chanting random phrases while abusing me mercilessly.

…And, the freakiest part of all – I remembered that the breast pump has a MALE voice.

(Because when we’re hooked up to THAT sadistic device is when we all want anonymous men chanting at us.)

I answered Lori and asked if she was talking about the rhythmic motor chanting, and she confirmed that yes, indeed, her pump chanted things like “Come home, come home, come home”, or “Shut the door, shut the door, shut the door.”

And so I knew.  This was a Common Crazy.  Or at least common between Lori and I.

After Noah was born, I enacted a policy of active avoidance of my pump if at all possible, but, unfortunately, it’s one of those things you can’t entirely hide from.

And, sure enough, that man is still trapped inside my pump motor.

I of course had to email Lori to report my pump’s secret messages (since I knew she’d accept and affirm my Crazy)…

“Today it said, ‘All that we need, all that we need, all that we need…’, and then it morphed into ‘Waldorf Queen, Waldorf Queen, Waldorf Queen…’!”

Lori responded that her pump had, that same day, been telling her, “Need new friends, need new friends, need new friends…”

(Obviously, Lori’s device is a bit more bossy, as well as being slightly ruder, than my more cryptic PumpMan.)

It just seems that IF the pump is going to INSIST on talking while working, it could say more encouraging things… like…

“You rock, you rock, you rock…”


“Sorry for torturing you, sorry for torturing you, sorry for torturing you…”

or, even better,

“Now you’ll be able to leave your kid with the grandparents, now you’ll be able to leave your kid with the grandparents, now you’ll be able to leave your kid with the grandparents…”

So.. how about it?  Are you going to admit to this Common Crazy?

(You know you’ve heard it!)

Or call Lori and I delusional-Moms-in-desperate-need-of-more-sleep?

(You obviously didn’t torture yourself often enough!)

Or, has it been so long that you’ve forgotten?

(In which case your curiosity just might get the best of you and make you pull that dusty old pump out, turn it on, and see what HE has to say to you.)

I have a feeling that I know what he’s going to say to me tomorrow…

“Crazy oversharing blogger, crazy oversharing blogger, crazy oversharing blogger…”