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I never touched coffee until I had my third child

Updated on September 28, 2009

      My coffee pot broke last month.  I lost my mind.  My children even noticed how different I was.  I simply could not function.  I could not locate what they needed to wear, fortunately they were not in school or camp at the time.  I could not make the breakfast properly.  Unfortunately, I had to go to work.  So here I am, a 20 year teacher, unable to remember the science lesson that I had taught no less than 20 times over the past two years of working as a Museum Educator.  A dear friend of mine took pity on me and walked over to a local coffee house and bought me a french vanilla latte.  It helped somewhat, but confirmed to me that I am totally addicted to coffee.

     It is quite common nowdays to see people standing around with a coffee cup in their hands.  Some bring theirs from home, others from the various coffee vendors or chains that have emerged all over the world.  But for me, this is a new phenomenon.  I never drank coffee until after I was 36 years old. 

     I spent the first 36 years of my life drinking many beverges.  Water, seltzer, soda, iced tea, hot tea, various juices but never coffee.  I had no desire to drink it.  True, I always loved the smell of fresh brewed coffee.  One of my fondest memories growing up was waking up at my Grandma and Grandpa Joy's house and smelling the wonderful aroma of the coffee pot brewing on the store.  In those days they did not have a coffee maker, it was brewed in the stainless steel pot over the flame, perking and making the wonderful noise.  I could smell it all the way upstairs in the room I always stayed in their huge old house.

    But I never wanted to drink it.  Until....I went back to work after giving birth to my third child six weeks after she was born.  She did not sleep through the night until she was two months old, you do the math.  I was teaching Kindergarten on very little sleep, plus raising two boys, ages 6 and 4 plus caring for a 4 bedroom house.  My dear friend was from Norway and she had grown up as coffee as a natural part of her life.  She kept telling me that I needed a good cup of coffee ,but I kept reaching for the tea.  One day, my cousin made me a cup of French Vanilla coffee.  I reluctantly drank it and enjoyed it very much.  I reported this back to my friend, who was overjoyed as she introduced to me to all of the coffee she had grown up loving.  I was sold and I was hooked.

     I still prefer my french vanilla lattes over any cup of coffee one may offer me, but I am now so hooked that I will drink unflavored ( can you believe?) coffee and I know the difference between good coffee and bad coffee.  I make terrible coffee, I do know that.  But it is good enough to get me through the morning, until I can buy some from a place that makes good coffee.  Its an addiction, I know it, but with three children, I don't go shopping, get my nails done, go out drinking and dancing with friends, coffee is the what I have.

     Last week, guess what?  I dropped the carafe to my coffee maker!  No coffee again!  My mother inlaw ran out and bought me a replacement, because even she knows that I am no good with out and she certainly does not want to be dealing with my kids while I walk around in coffeeless zombieland!   I am surprised she did not buy me two extra, just in case.


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