Got Milk?

When I was little, my grandparents had a wonderful house (Elmhurst) on the banks of the Greenbrier River, just down the road from the famous Greenbrier Hotel & Resort.  It was a grand old house, complete with slave quarters (only in the south...), and we'd all gather there in the summer and for Thanksgiving each year.  My grandparents had a bedroom, my mother and each of her four siblings had her/his own bedroom, and there was the "dormitory," as it was called, that had 7 twin beds for each of the seven cousins.  

I LOVED Elmhurst and spent many summers there picking blueberries, canoeing on the Greenbrier River, and sneaking frozen peppermint patties from my grandfather's stash in the freezer.

I also loved the cows in the fields nearby.  I mean, I really loved those cows.  When I was tiny, I used to shot out "moo-tows" each time I saw one.  Perhaps my early obsession with bovines was a precursor to actually becoming one.

In anticipation for my return to work, I've been carefully stashing away my milk...ounce by precious ounce...for the past few months.

With one day left before my first day, my tally in the freezer down in the basement is an astonishing 379 ounces (and let's not forget that I had to throw away 36 ounces earlier this summer). At roughly 4 ounces a bottle, I've got enough to keep my fat baby fat for the next month of daycare even if I don't produce another drop.

For those of you who have ever gone through the pleasures of pumping your own milk, you know what a feat this really is!