Breakfast. Dear Gracious.

This morning, Haley woke up with her usual morning chatter, Brent grabbed her and brought her in to bed with us. He asked, “Do you want pancakes?” to which I replied, “That sounds lovely!” and he disappeared. I fed Haley, pumped, and started to rouse and get ready for our day. I went in to the kitchen, found the eggs on the counter, and Brent nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he had forgotten. He eventually returned and started to make pancakes while I entertained Haley. He was looking for sugar, vanilla, and all sorts of things. I asked him, “Why are you looking for sugar and vanilla if you’re making pancakes (from Bisquick)?”
“I’m making melt-in-your-mouth pancakes.”
“Did you go research a recipe?”
“No, it’s on the side of the box.”
“We had just enough milk.”

I was trying to decide if I should store milk in the fridge, or freeze it. I wanted some readily available for Haley, but I knew there was some in the fridge already. When I looked in the fridge, I couldn’t find any breast milk at all.

“There’s no breast milk in here?”
“What’d you do, dump it?”
“Nope.” (grinning)
“What’s so funny?”
“I think it’s funny you can’t find the breast milk.”

I opened the fridge again thinking he had moved it, hidden it, or something else.

“Well, I don’t see it.”

Brent looked at the pancakes. And smiled. I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what was going on.

He smiled bigger.

“Well, we were out of milk!”

Now I haven’t checked the side of the Bisquick box, but I can guaran-dang-tee you it does not call for breast milk for “melt in your mouth” pancakes. For the love of Pete! Being funny is one thing, but presenting me with the possibility of having to pump all day to have some readily available milk to feed Haley with at a moment’s notice is not easily forgiven. Not when you despise pumping as much as I do.

So here arrived the day I never thought would come. The day my husband, not only consumed breast milk, but used it to cook.

I don’t……..I can’t………I just……..I don’t even know.

While Haley was still in the NICU and Brent and I were trying to keep our sense of humor and our sanity through the long days, I presented Brent with a dare. There were two ounces of breast milk left in a bottle and I told him I would give him $5 if he took it as a shot. He bartered, and told me he’d do it for $5 per ounce, so I’d have to cough up $10. That wasn’t worth it to me. Brent finished by saying he would never do it anyway. He wasn’t even interested in what it might taste like. The thought grossed him out. My conclusion: Good! I don’t have to worry about my husband being one of “those” guys that does something stupid with breast milk.

Several years ago when my best friend’s children were much younger, she told me her husband had made brownies with breast milk. Only because it was her husband – and if you knew him, it wouldn’t surprise you either – did I think that a handful of men in our nation would do something so ridiculous. I have been grateful ever since, that my husband didn’t reside among that handful. Until today….

The second or third time we gave Haley rice cereal, just a couple of weeks ago, Brent made the comment, “It tastes like rice cakes.”

I said, “Brent, you realize you just tasted breast milk.”

Apparently he’s been hooked ever since. Or something…..?!?!?!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.