SOUR MILK

My son opened a new gallon of milk last night.  He is still a dairy guy. He has cut back, but he is not fully weaned. He is still a work in progress. A Warrior under construction. Sometimes, to remind my kids that bovine milk or any animal based dairy products might not be their best option, I stoop to snarky comments.  “Oh, that frozen breast milk in a bowl looks so yummy, bud!” A timely comment like that takes just a little bit of the joy out of eating a bowl of ice cream, and that’s the point.  Because that’s what it is. Frozen breast milk.  Liquid forced out of the breast of a cow.  A liquid whose purpose and design is to help the young calf quickly gain lots weight.  About 500 pounds of weight in the first 7 months of life. Neat. We are the only mammals on the planet that continue to drink breast milk long after childhood. And the only ones that regularly raid another species for our supply. Milk may do somebody’s body good, but not my body…It does not do my body good.  And so I will leave it for the calves. Being a former lover of all things dairy, these are the things that I remind myself when I am having a moment. A weak moment. A moment when the monster is trying to tempt me into doing the things that make it stronger and make me weaker.  It reminds me that I am much better off when I do not help the monster. The monster does not need my help. Screw you monster. 

So, my son opened the new carton and had a drink and said “Mom, is this milk old?  I think there might be something wrong with it.” And I think, well of course there is something wrong with it Son, it is breast milk from a cow.  But, I exhibit great restraint and reply, What makes you think there is something wrong with it, Bud? “It tastes funny.” I’ll check it… And so I do. I smell the milk and I pour some into a cup to watch for chunks and I check the expiration date and it all looks and smells normal to me. I tell my Son all of my scientific testing has come back negative for any problems, so he will just have to rely on his own taste buds.  “Well, if it’s bad, couldn’t it make me sick?” I think to myself it's milk, Son it already is making you sick, but again, I play nice because I am busy and distracted and frankly not that interested in his milk dilemma and so I reply…Well Bud, think of it as yogurt. Yogurt is sort of like bad milk.  He is unconvinced. “Can’t you just taste it?” Nope. “Just a little to see if it’s bad?” Nope. “I’m not going to drink it unless I know for sure it’s not bad.” That’s fine son, you don’t have to drink it.  “But isn’t that a waste of money and isn’t that the expensive milk?” Yes and yes.  “But you still won’t taste it.” A statement, not a question this time. And I think, now you are getting it, Son.  And I respond that I won’t taste it because I don’t cheat. Ever.  Not even a little. “Oh that’s right” he says, knowing his battle has been lost, “You won’t even take a tiny taste of the milk because you are a Waaaahls Warrior, right Wynette?” That’s right boy, now leave me alone. I have bracelets to polish.