Multi tasking. It’s what I do in the morning. This particular morning the clock glowed 5:45 am. While simultaneously mixing baby bottles and brewing coffee, I had a deep thought. In something sorta like an Oprah “aha!” moment, it hit me (more like smacked me upside the head). Each bottle I mixed cost roughly as much as a Starbucks cup up of brew.
I realize comparing coffee to formula is odd, but if you know me well, you understand my coffee obsession. It is my fuel. Honestly, I don’t understand how people don’t drink coffee? It makes me not trust them. How can you not love the scent of brewing beans in the morning? How do you not crave the feel of a mug in your hands? How do you not adore the pop of energy coffee produces?
My twins are six months old and I don’t breastfeed. I tried, Lord knows, I tried! The twins were born early. Being preemies, they didn’t latch properly. They also had a ten day “visit” in the NICU requiring the introduction of formula. Finally, a wicked case of Mastitis put me in the hospital for a “fun filled” five days. When all was said and done, I strapped on my breast pump and it laughed at me. I was dried up, done . . .
So, formula it is in my house. Each baby gets four, 7 ounce bottles a day. Multiplied out, I’m looking at 56 bottles a week, 224 a month, and 2,688 a year. Which, if you do the math (something I desperately try to avoid) equals roughly a bizillion dollars!
Formula is expensive. No, make that, very, VERY expensive. We buy generic because brand name would send my credit card (and my husband) into cardiac arrest. Still, buying generic seems to hardly make a dent.
My babies are sucking into my coffee budget big time. Do they appreciate that their little “bottle habit” is costing me bundles? Probably not. Thank Goodness they are darling, so it makes up for it.
I love my twins, but I don’t love that with every Dr. Browns, I’m kissing goodbye a Frappuccino. Currently I have four prepared bottles in the fridge just waiting for consumption. I’m no Barista, but as I see it, that’s two Venti’s and a Grande.
When my family graduates from bottles, one thing is for sure. I will never order coffee the same again. When I’m in line and I hear someone request a “half-skinny-extra-hot- latte-with-whip”, I will crack a smile just thinking of the formula equivalent.
Bottoms up . . .