Coffee Humor for Moms
The morning started like any other. Little did I know the horror awaiting me in the kitchen.
The cries of a hungry baby woke me up. I listened to him fuss, hoping by some miracle he would go back to sleep. After a few minutes I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed.
Bleary-eyed I made a bottle, plucked my 11 month old from his crib, and sat down on the couch to feed him breakfast.
After he slurped the last few drops from the bottle, I plopped my son down on the living room floor to play. Then I headed to the kitchen to get myself some morning sustenance.
Still not quite awake, I fumbled around the cupboard for the coffee filters. I measured and poured water into the coffee maker. I located the can of coffee, pulled off the lid and, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
It. Was. Empty.
How could I let this happen?
Over the last year coffee became my main coping mechanism for getting through the day.
I was a coffee drinker for years, but not like this.
The amount of coffee I consume seems to increase as the number of children I have increases.
When I was childless and working a desk job, I drank one small cup of coffee every morning while I read through emails.
After my oldest was born and I began life as a SAHM, I started drinking two large cups of coffee in the morning.
Now that I have to two children I drink three large cups of coffee in the morning, and usually a fourth in the afternoon to keep me going.
But now I stared at the bottom of an empty coffee container.
There must be something in the cupboard. A forgotten jar of instant at least?
I pushed aside hot chocolate, baking powder, and brown sugar, digging to the very back of the shelves.
I was as frantic as an alcoholic looking for a bottle of vanilla in a dry house.
Then behind a bag of shriveled up marshmallows I glimpsed a coffee can.
Oh, sweet relief!
As I pulled it from the dark recesses of the cabinet my mouth watered. I could almost taste that black-brown goodness.
Then I saw the bold, yellow letters on the label. DECAFFINATED!
I felt like a thirsty desert traveler offered Saltine crackers instead of water.
My oldest son woke up and came out of his bedroom sometime during my frenzied search.
I turned to him. He must have noticed the crazed look in my eyes.
“We’re out of coffee.”
I was left with two unfavorable choices. One, get myself and the boys dressed, pack everyone in the car and drive to buy coffee. Two, suffer without until my husband, who left the house earlier than usual that day, came home.
As I stood there debating what to do, I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I realized there was no way I would survive that long without caffeine.
I started to get everyone ready for the trip into town when I heard a knock at the door.
Who comes to your house this early in the morning uninvited? This was just another annoyance on top of everything else.
I looked out the window and gasped.
It was my husband, standing on the porch, hands full of —
He might as well have been wearing a suite of armor, and sitting atop a white horse.
Behold! The Conquering Hero returns!
I flung the door open, grabbed my cup and thanked him profusely between sips.
And all was right with the world once again.