needless to say, after pumping three times a day in my office (or in a janitor's closet as the case may be!), that milk is a precious commodity. i've heard some moms refer to it as liquid gold, and i'll be honest with you here: it's not far from the truth. except it's gold that you extract from your own body every single day, so there's a certain extra attachment to it.
so one bleary-eyed morning, running late as always, i was i transferring milk into john's bottles to send along to school that day. rushing, i got ahead of myself, and i knocked over a bottle. a full, five-ounce bottle of milk splattered everywhere in my kitchen.
first of all, you have no idea how much surface area five ounces can cover. trust me, you're better off not trying this experiment at home.
second of all, all i could do was stand transfixed in the puddle i'd created. i was soaked to the skin (thinking "i'm even later now, gotta go change clothes ..." and now instead of having precisely the 20 ounces i knew john would drink that daycare, i was short. waaaaaayyy short. my child was going to starve.
while i tried to absorb what had just happened, poor husband walks in. seeing the tears welling in my eyes, he tried to make me feel better. "what's that old saying," he said, "about spilt milk ..."
i'm not proud to say that the words i shouted at him are not repeatable on a family blog and may or may not rhyme with "duck shoe." and i broke down into sobbing tears, devestated at what i perceived to be a mommy failure of epic proportions. i couldn't provide for my child's needs. what kind of mom was i?
of course, i got my act together. at my husband's suggestion, my til-then-only-breastfed son had one bottle of formula that day. and you know what? he was ok. he really was. and since then, there was another time that i left all my milk from a day of pumping at work overnight, and he had ONLY formula that day, heaven forfend! and he still survived.
so yes, now i can agree with my husband. the old saying is true, one should not cry over spilt milk. and i won't ... at least until the next time i decide to mop my floor with breastmilk.
so one bleary-eyed morning, running late as always, i was i transferring milk into john's bottles to send along to school that day. rushing, i got ahead of myself, and i knocked over a bottle. a full, five-ounce bottle of milk splattered everywhere in my kitchen.
first of all, you have no idea how much surface area five ounces can cover. trust me, you're better off not trying this experiment at home.
second of all, all i could do was stand transfixed in the puddle i'd created. i was soaked to the skin (thinking "i'm even later now, gotta go change clothes ..." and now instead of having precisely the 20 ounces i knew john would drink that daycare, i was short. waaaaaayyy short. my child was going to starve.
while i tried to absorb what had just happened, poor husband walks in. seeing the tears welling in my eyes, he tried to make me feel better. "what's that old saying," he said, "about spilt milk ..."
i'm not proud to say that the words i shouted at him are not repeatable on a family blog and may or may not rhyme with "duck shoe." and i broke down into sobbing tears, devestated at what i perceived to be a mommy failure of epic proportions. i couldn't provide for my child's needs. what kind of mom was i?
of course, i got my act together. at my husband's suggestion, my til-then-only-breastfed son had one bottle of formula that day. and you know what? he was ok. he really was. and since then, there was another time that i left all my milk from a day of pumping at work overnight, and he had ONLY formula that day, heaven forfend! and he still survived.
so yes, now i can agree with my husband. the old saying is true, one should not cry over spilt milk. and i won't ... at least until the next time i decide to mop my floor with breastmilk.
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Claire