My name is Melissa, and I’m addicted to coffee.
I’ve come to grips with it, and am no longer ashamed. I don’t smoke, have never tried drugs, drink so rarely that it’s more accurate to say that I don’t drink. But I have a raging coffee addiction and I’m proud. I’m even perpetuating it into the next generation, as Jessica has started getting herself a cup every morning as well. I’ve been able to limit it to just mornings with her – even I have my limits.
Ever since Sam got sick, I’ve started with the mid-afternoon cup of coffee. Sometimes two. The morning coffee – that’s a given. I have two cups before I head out the door to drop off the girls, and then I’m good. But then Sam got sick, and I wasn’t sleeping at night, the mid-afternoon coffee became essential. It didn’t take long before the occasional cup of coffee because a daily thing, and then an oh-my-God-if-I-don’t-have-that-coffee-I’m-going-to-kill-one-of-my-kids.
Now my day revolves around the coffee. I start my day with it, and I have a couple of cups every afternoon to keep me going. I usually hold off until after the girls get out of school, but then, oh, please, yes, the glory of a hot cup of coffee with the perfect ratio of sugar:cream:coffee. And then suddenly, the rest of the afternoon seems more… manageable. I can handle the homework battles, the dinner dilemma, the bathing/teeth brushing/please-God-won’t-you-just-fall-asleep-already brawl that Julianna insists on every night.
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