Unless that milk is 12 ounces of breast milk taken out of the fridge and left on the counter for way too long. Yes, this was the situation in my kitchen on Saturday evening. I went to grab some milk to mix with baby girl's cereal (yes we started solids on Cinco de Mayo, pics to come) and couldn't find the little cooler that should have been sitting on the middle shelf, plain as day. I glanced to the counter and, there it sat, for how long I had no idea. I opened the cooler and felt the bottles hoping it was a recent occurence, but they were completely room temperature. DH probably took it out when he was looking for something behind it, but he has "no recollection" of that happening. I, on the other hand, appreciate the value of said liquid gold and know I wouldn't have left it out.
Who was responsible was neither here nor there, what was done was done. I had to check it out to see if I could still use it. I smelled it, but couldn't really tell if it was bad. What's a mom to do at this point? Ok, here's the part where I lose like 10 followers who are too grossed out to read this blog again, but what was I supposed to do? I made the ultimate sacrifice...I tasted it. It was bad. I had to throw it out.
If this had happened with Nate, I probably would have cried, yelled at Aaron and made a huge production out of the fact that it took me 90 minutes of uncomfortable pumping to get that milk. I did none of those things. I simply sighed as I poured it down the drain and got frozen milk out to send to daycare today. Maybe I'm growing up or giving up; I'm not really sure which one.