Real adults drink, like, whole pots of coffee, don’t they? They guzzle it like gasoline from water bottle sized travel mugs sitting in traffic on their way to work. Arriving at the office they pour another cup just to “sip” on as they catch up on voicemails and e-mails and other sorts of “mails”.
I’m just guessing. When I was working, I always drank coffee in the morning. One cup. I didn’t have to sit in traffic, but sipped it at my desk. I don’t believe I was desperate for it. I don’t believe I guzzled it like gasoline. I enjoyed it. Enjoyed the taste, the warmth, the smell. Oh, the immaturity. One of my favorite daily activities was pouring cream into my coffee, watching the swirls of milky white.
Now, my coffee drinking days have evolved into something much different and I don’t take the time to notice the swirls or appreciate the smell. I guzzle it like gasoline. Every last drop. And just recently, I started going back for more.
I never thought it would come to this. So who’s to blame? My husband and my kids…of course.
I entered marriage as a tea drinker who occasionally drank coffee. My husband was a coffee drinker who occasionally (rather when he was sick) drank tea. I was proud of my status, determined not to be one of those people who was useless without coffee.
But every morning my husband would grind the beans and brew this deliciously smelling coffee filling our apartment with the pleasant aromas of hazelnut or french vanilla or just plain coffee. Eventually, I succumbed. I wanted to be a part of it.
What was so bad about one innocent little cup of coffee?
The answer is nothing. But then it becomes two. Then three. Then four. And pretty soon, before you know it you are drinking a whole pot of coffee. That’s how it begins. That’s how they get you. Those evil coffee drinking pagans.
Then you have children and the morning cup of joe takes on a whole new significance. When you wake up at 6 a.m. to a bright and big-eyed toddler begging you to vacuum the rug so he can watch, it becomes the lifeblood of…um, life.
So gone are my idealism and tea-drinking nose-in-the-air days. Growing up is tough, humbling.
But I’ve got to say, this afternoon when I caught myself dancing in the kitchen I thought to myself, “perhaps this second cup of coffee isn’t such a bad thing after all.”
I guess you could say, growing up has its perks.