Yeah! So! Yeah!
Let’s review the past 9 years!
- December 2002: I get pregnant. Give up coffee like the books scared me into doing (also, was barfing too much to ingest much of anything).
- January 2003: Dave tells me, in the nicest way possible, that I am much less bitchy without caffeine.
- 2003: Henry is born! And he never sleeps. Ever. I am too frightened to drink coffee again, afraid that he’ll get a caffeine molecule and, improbably, sleep even less.
- 2006-2010: I have another kid, then another, and then another.
Sleep doesn’t really happen at all anywhere in there. Yet I don’t drink coffee. Well, I do. I drink decaf. Because I love coffee. The taste, the ritual, the warm mug. All that. (Also the leftover coffee you can make into iced coffee after lunch.) But the kids don’t sleep, so I don’t sleep, and I continue to view caffeine as the Monster Under the Bed who will pinch at their toes if I dare to take a sip.
Then, last week, Dave and I were having Yet Another Conversation about how I have all sorts of lovely intentions, but I never do any of them. That, at the end of the day, I wonder what I did at all. And that it makes me feel like a lame-o.
And the universe spoke. It said: DRINK COFFEE. DRINK REAL COFFEE, JULIE.
And I did! I did! And then I went crazy. I cleaned the house and challenged Dave to a game of basketball even though he’s a foot taller than me (I lost, but got a respectable number of baskets), and then we demolished part of our house! And now I speak only in exclamations!
What took me so long? Why didn’t anyone tell me, remind me, that coffee will make me less tired? That I might get more done?
Hello, joe. I missed you.