got milk?

Milk. My life now revolves around milk. Does Abby want milk? Does Abby want MORE milk? Oops, Abby had too much milk. . .

Now there's milk on Abby's clothes, mommy's clothes, the boppy pillow and the couch.

Couldn't get that burp out? Fermented milk on Daddy's cashmere sweater.

The laundry load has tripled. Abby is still less than 10 pounds and just over a foot and a half long and the laundry load has still tripled. How is that possible?

Milk.

I washed the duvet cover and comforter four times this past week. Admittedly, once was not because of spit-up milk. To add insult to injury Desmond hacked up a huge hairball on the bed. Guess he wanted to get in on the action.

There are burp cloths placed strategically all over the house.

Often a bath is the consequence of a major milk spit-up.

Last week Abby and I went to two mommy-baby groups which revolved around, you guessed it, milk. We attended a breastfeeding support group at the hospital and a La Leche League meeting that was more local. Abigail slept through both. When she woke she wanted, of course, milk.

We love her dearly. According to her clothing she loves us too. By the way, both of those onesies eventually ended up sporting milk.