Until my recent tooth removal, I hadn’t built up any sort of stored breastmilk supply. Not only because my supply was already a drizzle and it was just depressing watching the drips end at 1 ounce on each side, making me want to cry and scream to the Gods, “WHY ME, GODS?! Is it because of my blasphemous use of Gods over God because it’s just for effect! JUST FOR EFFECT!”, but because I wasn’t ever planning on being away from my son for longer than, you know, 10 seconds.

Thanks to the 8 whole hours I was out of it with the removal, I pumped 2 whole bags and one whole bottle of breastmilk for the freezer. We recently popped one out for Eric to use when I was at my 5 hour staff meeting early last month. When I called (which I managed to avoid for nearly 3 whole hours despite the continual let-downs because I couldn’t stop talking or thinking about him), Eric said he wouldn’t take it but he did finish nearly an entire avocado. He was hungry but didn’t want the milk. I did not freak. I did let-down…again.

When I got home, I inspected the milk and, AHA, it smelled soapy! I remembered the many stories of over-enthusiastic lipase making good, frozen milk smell like a bottle of liquid Dawn. “I know what this is! It’s too much lipase! It just smells bad, it’s okay to drink.”

Here is where I take a sip. Now, some people may think it’s gross or strange to taste one’s own breastmilk. I ask you people this, what’s stranger, drinking a bodily fluid from a source with which you are quite familiar, or drinking a bodily fluid from some random animal that could be out whoring around with HIV BIV positive bulls or doing intravenous bovine herione on her off days? Yeah, whatchu gotta say ’bout that?! Besides, it doesn’t taste bad.

Anyway, I sipped.

And I gagged. My Lord, did I gag. I also may have vomited a little in my mouth. Anyone who says soapy-smelling breastmilk is “just stronger” is insane. Not only did it smell like a bottle of Dawn but it tasted like a bottle of Dawn mixed with the essence of chicken bottom. It was that bad.

Needless to say, we’ll be stocking up on avocados come my all day meeting at the end of the month because there is no way Ben’s ever going to get chicken ass and dish soap in a bottle again. Until, of course, he hits that toddler “Mama, I won’t eat anything but chicken butt and Dawn…or tomato and pea salad” phase. And no child of mine is going to eat tomato and pea salad. No, sir. Not in this house.