If I only thought about crying over the spilled milk, I didn’t know what true milk-induced panic really felt like. I nearly did cry over the lost milk. After staying late at school, making sure that I got enough milk for Petals, I left the school, picked her up, and drove home…only to discover, about an hour after getting home, that I had not brought home the milk.
“Oh no!” I shrieked, grabbing my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” said The Boy, concerned.
I ran out to the car, looked all over the house, all to no avail. I stood, ready to cry. 10oz. Wasted. I could envision the breast pump bag sitting on my desk, with a lunchbox sized container holding an ice pack and the liquid gold. The worst part? I wouldn’t be returning to school the next morning because of Petals’s doctor’s appointment, and I couldn’t let milk hang out on my desk for 48 hours! I was just about to grab my keys (and my jeans) and hop in the car to make the long drive back to school when he suggested I call my principal.
“Maybe she’s still at the school…”
“Who would be at the school at this time of night?!” I protested…while dialing. Fortunately, she was just pulling out of the parking lot, and thankfully, she agreed to head to my room, pick up the milk, and refrigerate it. Now, I’m crossing my fingers that no one decides to steal the “lunch” in the little black bag in the teacher’s fridge. I mean…it has her name on it. Hopefully none of the students decides to get curious.
On another note – Zuzi has her four month check up today.
She’s getting shots.
I feel a little guilty about this.