Don’t Cry Over Spilt [Titty] Milk.

I don't expect any men reading this to be able to relate, but for us breastfeeding moms, a container of glorious liquid gold like this represents a deep sense of maternal pride and accomplishment. This is why, mere moments after taking this photo, I let out a primal scream when it fell to the ground and I lost 3/4 of the contents. Apparently I also advanced into "Hulk like rage" as if I was was about transform into the beast himself, but that could just be my husband dramatizing for effect. Pretty sure I blacked out. Nothing beats the exhaustion of mom life, you know?

Motherhood is a real trip sometimes. I'm extraordinarily calm through most moments, but there's the rare time when I haven't slept, my hormones are unstable, I have cared for everyone but myself, and I feel the weight of the world collapsing onto my shoulders that a sense of primal rage overtakes me.

A few days later and I can finally laugh about the event. But do you realize how many boo boo pops I could've made with all that milk? Or in lieu of becoming an OnlyFans model in an over-saturated mommy fetish market, it could have been a tasty treat for an overzealous bodybuilder and I could've made a few bucks.

There's always the next pump session. Just have to go at it when I'm a little more emotionally regulated, I guess.