So I am the worst blogger in the world when it comes to this one. Sure, I blog and write for a living, but when it comes to updating you all on my new life as a mother I just never seem to make the time.

I’d have you thinking that my life is so glamorous — days full of spinning classes, expensive client lunches at some smug fusion-y San Francisco restaurant, jogging in the park, pedicures and facials. But honestly, the hours merely comprise of long conference calls, email volleys, some finance writing, traffic, breast-pumping, poop cleaning, cooking and gibberish talking with my new little girlfriend.

All this makes for one haggard working mommy by the time little one is in bed.

But whatever — that’s no excuse. What I want to do with this blog now is discuss life as a working mother. A) That’s pretty much all I know right now;  B) Anything else requires too much brain power that my sluggish mind can’t handle for at least a few more months; and C) online mommies are the coolest and I hope to meet more of you via common interests and life experiences.

So, topic #1 stems from something that happened to me this week that made me realize that the moment I became a mother I lost the ability to be embarrassed about bodily functions and nudity/partial nudity.

My company rents space in a shared-office situation where a bunch of companies are together on one floor of a building. Each office essentially is one room – with some able to accommodate about 12 or 15 desks; others simply one-desk “lockers” with a phone and Internet connection. There is a common lobby area with a kitchen, arcade machine and weird chairs shaped liked puzzle pieces.

It’s a great collaborative environment for new, growing companies. Not so great, however, for someone who needs to pull her boobs out and pump a few times a day. (There are no walls within our office.)

After some really annoying arm-pulling to even get me a private space for breast pumping, the building office manager finally agreed to let me use empty offices as they are available. By the way, doesn’t anyone know that this is a pretty essential need for a new mother who’s breastfeeding? It’s not as if I’m in there throwing a party or conspiring to take over the world. I’m only trying to keep up the milk supply Addi needs to grow. Sheesh!

So now I endure stern looks from the receptionist desk every time I ask about room availability. They unlock a little locker for me to use, which I appreciate more than I can say. They never seem happy about it, but whatever. I just need an outlet and a door that locks and I’m golden.

This has been a great setup so far. I can pump in peace and privacy and my baby still gets her breast milk when I’m not there.

UNTIL …… Wednesday afternoon. I’m sitting there with my boobs hooked up and I hear some keys jangling. Just as I’m about to say “occupied!” the door swings open and a young dude is staring at me blankly. Apparently, they were showing the space to a potential renter and forgot I was in there.

Huh, I think and continue pumping.

Huh? Huh? Really? Someone just witnessed me milking my bare breasts like a cow and all I can do is shrug my shoulders and continue to browse Facebook while my cycle finishes. Prior to child birth, I would’ve been mortified. Mortified! Afterward? Not so much. Sure, it sucks to expose yourself to a stranger. But whatever, man. Gotta feed my baby.

And it’s exactly that reaction that made me realize my complete loss of embarrassment when it comes to these things. It’s either a side effect of just not having time to deal with it in that way or a sign of Addi’s ability to completely distract me from everything.