Bank

We've had 20 or so people offer to babysit Lyla. The problem is I don't think we'd ever get her back.

No, really the problem is breast milk. I always thought that during a feeding, a baby might drink two or three pints of breast milk, much like a young lad at a pub in the afternoon. And when a mother would pump, she might get four or five gallons at a time, necessitating a second freezer in the garage.

Actually, like the baby's weight, ounces are what matter. Lyla will eat three or four ounces during a feeding, and Julie will pump one or two at a time in addition. At night, when Lyla becomes Lylazilla, thirsty beast from the depths, she will often ransack the fridge and claim whatever ounces Julie has stockpiled that day. So we do not manage to save much.

This reminds me of when I was 22 and trying to save money. I had hoards of money coming in, or at least it seemed that way with my bachelor's degree and low-five-figure teaching salary. I should've been able to save several hundred dollars a month, right? No, with all my expenses, including my wannabe-rockstar lifestyle, I felt I needed a loan.

Even though at 22 I thought a loan was the solution to my problems, I know better now. And it occurs to me that a loan from the bank is like baby formula: you might want to avoid it if you can. I know not all women have a choice and that it's a personal decision, but our perspective at this point is that formula is not as good as breast milk, much like money from a loan is not as good as money you've saved.

So Julie's saving a little milk at a time, and we hear that eventually it does accumulate. (Hey, if you ask me, those breasts deserve a pay raise.) And so once we have more in the bank, we might allow some of you to babysit.

Just don't expect us to pay you.