Crying over spilled milk

Hand pumping is definitely more time-consuming and more tiring than using an electric pump, of course.  However, it has been working and I'm getting better at figuring out how to position it and when to switch from one breast to the other.  It does take me about 30 minutes to get only 4 ounces, but I look at the time invested as an opportunity to burn extra calories. 

So, for 30 minutes, I sit there and pump, pump, pump while watching House or True Blood (my latest guilty pleasure.  Seriously, the second I hear that southern drawl, the back of my tongue becomes a bit heavier and I could feel my throat and my mouth itching to say "y'all").  I proudly take my 4 little ounces of milk into the kitchen and either freeze it or refrigerate it. 

Well, last night as I was opening a container filled with 3 oz of milk, I accidentally spilled it all over our counter.  My heart stopped beating.  I thought of the pride I felt after those 30 minutes pump, pump, pumping and seeing the fruits of my labor and I thought of the hard work that went into those 30 minutes.  I yelled out several expletives and screamed in frustration.  Billy ran out of the room to see if I was alright.  As soon as I heard him ask, I started crying.  He came over to hug me and told me that everything was OK, that I could make more.  I nodded my head "yes," but wanted to turn around and put the pump up to his nipples and pump it for 30 minutes to see how he'd like it.  Instead, I took a deep breath, realized that he's just a man and that he's trying his best to console me and I calmed down. 

On another note, I was kissing Desmond's feet and he managed to scratch my upper lip with his toenails.   I mean, enough to draw blood!  That's what I get for making fun of his weird, long, big-toed feet.