I milked my first cow at my grandparents house when I was little. So little, I had a hard time balancing on the little T-shaped milking stool, and my fingers didn’t seem to reach all the way around the teat. Finally my grandma sat on the wooden stool and pulled me in front of her. She wrapped her own hands around my fingers, and “we” milked the cow together. Filling up the bucket with warm frothy milk, while every once in a while “shooting” a stream into the cat’s tin.

Since then, my milking experience has covered sheep, goats and dogs (don’t ask). Mostly recently, with the addition of a new baby, I have experienced life on the other side of the fence, as my family has began affectionately (I hope) calling me Mommy Milk Cow.

Within days of giving birth, I came down with mastitis, and soon learned that “feeding on demand” has much less to do with the baby’s demand than the mother’s. As I was trying (often unsuccessfully) to fill up the baby’s walnut-sized stomach with a grapefruit-sized quantity of milk, I realized that it was from sore, tired, engorged, nursing women that coined some of the most common “Mom-isms.”

1. “Don’t play with your food!”

Said the sleep-deprived mom who just wants her baby to eat, so she can go back to bed.

2. “You will stay there until all your food is gone!”

Said the engorged mom who came into her milk too suddenly and is dying from the pressure.

3. “Think of all those starving children in (insert country of your choice) that would be delighted to eat your food.”

Said the mom who is part Holstein and is swarming in milk enough to feed twins.

4. “It’s no use crying over spilled milk.”

Said the mom who accidentally sprayed her crying baby in the face with milk.

5. “You just ate an hour ago!”

Said the mom who’s baby prefers little snacks around the clock instead of fewer more hearty meals.

6. You will eat it, and you will like it!”

Said the no-nonsense mom who has already been through this four times before.

As the baby and I go through the above steps, in no particular order, I am starting to think I should get two henna tattoos across my chest, giving the baby the option between “Take It” or “Leave It.”

As the Mommy/Baby dance will continue as he grows, I look forward to seeing what other phrases or words of wisdom I will start to view in a different light. But until then, I’ll enjoy my role as Mommy Milk Cow — as long as my husband continues in his role as Daddy Diaper.

Brianna Walker occasionally writes about the Farmer’s Fate for the Blue Mountain Eagle.