Owen eats about 6 oz of breastmilk 7 times a day, which is 42 oz a day. Let’s say he weighs 15 pounds (rough estimate). If a 150 pound adult were to eat a proportional amount of milk, he’d have to drink 3.28 gallons of milk a day.
This helps me understand how Owen had such a pootacular blowout last night. Owen didn’t want to go to sleep last night and kept grunting and squirming. I was on call last night, so Travis took over sleep duty. I was on the phone with the emergency department when I heard the bathtub turn on. I found Travis and O in the bathroom and Owen taking a bath at 11 pm. In the big bathtub was something that used to be a onesie and a sleep sack, which were now unrecognizable. Turns out the grunting and squirming was a pootacular BM making its way to the exit. O had a bath, the clothes got a large dose of spray&wash and a long wash and rinse cycle in the washer. Not surprisingly, after having a bath and seeing mommy and daddy at midnight, O wanted to stay up and play, not go back to sleep. He got to sleep until noon today, Travis and I went to work. Here’s hoping for better sleep tonight.
I forced myself to make a grocery store run this morning since I’ve succeeded in putting it off for many days. (I realized once I got there that I was in my best tree costume: brown sweatpants and a bright green shirt! Hmm– maybe a tree with a giant lump on one side!) As I was checking out, the guy standing behind me asked, out of the blue, if I were “getting pretty close?” Now, this comment sort of bothers me because it seems to suggest that I look WAY fat (er, preggers) rather than not-so-big which I’ve been hearing from others and much prefer. But I don’t really care so I responded that I had a couple more months. So then he asked if it were a Christmas baby and I said, maybe– the due date is Jan 4th. At this point, the female employee exclaimed, “That’s the worst time to be born!” NICE!! We then got treated to a tale of woe about how her father’s birthday is December 26th and he gets cheated out of presents, blah, blah, blah.
I’m not going to lie and say that I sat around for years pondering the best time of year to be born and then shouted, “Eureka! Right after Christmas!” And I know that Donna Martin’s friends often forgot her Christmas birthday on 90210. I get it. But wow– does the random check-out lady in the grocery store need to express it with such vehemence??
Funny coda– as I was putting my groceries in the car, the guy ran by and shouted, “It’s a great time to be born– I don’t know what that lady was talking about!”
Gotta love the things people say. (Actually, I do love it. People are so fascinating to me!! Bring it on!!)