No I am not keeping score, but I figure about 365 days x 3-5 bottles a day ought to put me in the ten-to-the-third order of magnitude. I just can't emphasize enought what a downer it was for me and the wife to repeat the first year process for a third and absolutely final kid. Each bottle contains not two parts but freaking four parts in order to equalize air pressure while sucking. Sure I want the kid to be tough, but those first few weeks, the wife pretty much gets what she wants, thus beginning long running precedent and tradition. I tried to warn her that bottle heaters didn't work in the middle of the night every two hours... But we had to dance that dance again for only a week or two this final time. I snuck the bottles into the microwave for 10 seconds whenever I could get away with it. Fortunately the baby doesn't care for a hot bottle or "Bob" as it is now called. We started out with three Bobs, and we didn't trust the dish washer or run it often enough to go that route. At first I would wrestle with a Bob to get the two inner pressure equalization parts separated. After a month or two (60 days x 3-5 times) I realized there was a slight protrusion I could pull on to help me get them apart. But not before brusied fingers wore me down considerably. I was absolutely shocked at how clumsy I was when washing these Bobs the first six months (180 days x 3-5 times). There is a God written Law of Nature to which Science has neither properly appreciated nor given due recognition: If a Bob part fumbles out of your fingers while washing, it WILL go down the sink hole (RaaaaagghhhhhhH!!!!!!!!). Sorry. It also took a few months (90 days x 3-5 times) for us to get an adequate soap delivery system in place. Currently we have a kind of hand lotion dispenser on our sink which seems to work well. Finally, after increasing our Bob inventory to six higher capacity models, we seem to be doing okay now. I certainly have resigned myself to the work of hunting, gathering and cleaning. It really doesn't bother me like it used to. Still though, my wife likes to wait to remind me to get her a clean water filled Bob about 30 seconds after I have completely forgotten to do this, climbed into bed, begun to wag my foot and entered into what I believe to be are my day's last waking thoughts. Just as I am about to post this, I hear my wife utter the other dreaded word, "Pacifier".