AWESOME.

You know how in movies, people spit out their drink when they hear something really funny? I’ve never seen that happen in real life, and thought it was more of a myth--an overdramatization--until today. I not only witnessed it... I CAUSED it!

I met some friends for brunch. Three of us ordered mimosas, but Krista, who’s pregnant, stuck with herbal tea. She and her husband, John, were sitting across the table from Lindsey and me. Lindsey, 26, has a naive fascination with pregnancy. Meanwhile, it’s been ten years since I gave birth, so a lot of memories were resurfacing as we chit-chatted about all Krista has to look forward to.

Krista took a wistful sip of John’s mimosa, prompting Lindsey to ask about the general consensus among the medical community regarding the danger of alcohol consumption while pregnant.

Well, it depends... but really, a half-glass of wine never hurt anybody. Any Frenchman (or woman) will tell you that.

Of course, every woman is different. Melany is due with Child No. 2 next month, and has to use quite a bit of self-restraint not to glug down a pint of beer whenever she feels the urge, whereas I myself remember having a natural disinclination for alcohol while pregnant.

After giving birth, however, my affinity for wine returned without delay. My infant child wasn’t so keen on alcoholic breastmilk, though. I’ve heard that a little wine-laced breastmilk helps some babies fall asleep, but it only agitated mine. So whenever I knew I was going to have a drink, I’d pump some milk beforehand, feed my baby the good stuff out of a bottle at bedtime, then pump out the wine-tainted milk to dump down the sink.

Except that on an emotional level, it’s very, very hard to see your own milk poured down the drain. I mean, I MADE that. And it’s a damn shame to see all my body’s hard work going to waste. Surely it can be put to some good use.

I don’t remember where I first heard about it, but somebody somewhere mentioned using leftover breastmilk for basic cooking recipes; it’s a little bit sweeter, and has kind of a funny aftertaste, but there’s not technically anything wrong with it. If you think about it, it makes more sense than consuming something meant for a baby cow.

So one Saturday morning, rather than dumping out my winey breastmilk, I used it to make pancakes. I was going to tell my husband before I fed them to him, but just before breakfast, he’d said something that pissed me off....

Pbbbttthhhtttt!!!!!

....sputtered Krista, spewing her tea ALL OVER THE TABLE.

It was one of the most hysterical things I’ve ever seen. She was beside herself, choking and laughing at my story, while I had tears rolling down my face at the splatters of her tea all over my quiche.

That right there was some funny shit.