JAVA MAMA JUNKIE

There’s no way to sugar coat this one. I am a junkie. Addicted. Hooked. Yes, say it loud, say it proud. I am a coffee whore.

As much as I love my children and my husband, they are not what I crave, want to caress and want to wrap myself around when I wake. Nope, when my eyes flutter open first thing in the morning, I want to cuddle up with something hot, camel colored and steaming in my mega sized sturdy ceramic green floral cup.

During the work week, there’s never a problem. I simply set my silver cuisinart state of the art coffee maker and carafe to brew a perfect pot at 5:50 am. By the time I drag myself downstairs at 6am, my morning coffee is waiting to be inhaled and ingested. With everyone else still soundly asleep upstairs, there’s no competition for my attention or affection. I can sit, sip and savor and indulge in my addiction. Just as my evening ritual of indulging in a glass of red wine when the kids are finally asleep signals the end of my marathon day, my steaming cup of coffee serves as the starter pistol. It doesn’t take much. About a half a cup sipped on the couch in a zombie like coma does the trick. I can get in the shower and get cracking on my day.

Now the weekends however, that’s a different story. While I love and look forward to the weekends spent with my husband and kids, those busy bustling mornings turn my treasured caffeine routine into chaos. I want nothing more than to spend the day snuggling with my family, but it's the mornings when mama needs a moment to herself. I’ve tried sticking to my 6am wakeup call, but by Saturday, I‘m usually so exhausted that I want and need every spare second of sleep I can get.

Sometimes, I get lucky, my eyes will open at seven or so and I’ll slip downstairs before Nico and Christiana will roll over and start the first chorus of “Mommy, Mommy.” Those mornings are pure paradise. I’ll brew a fresh pot, slip on my slippers and saunter out to the driveway – as quickly as I can checking up and down the street making sure no neighbors have spotted me in my nighttime uniform of boxers and tank top. Then, I come back inside and savor cup after cup of my steaming coffee with a healthy side order of the news of the day.

But, those weekend mornings are few and far between. Usually, in my exhausted and sleep deprived state, I’ll stay in bed until I hear the familiar thump thump thump of tiny feet heading for my bedroom as I brace myself for the cannonball that my kids are about to perform on my head. I scoop them up and head downstairs where the battle for my conscious begins. What do I do first – pour the kids’ milk or make my coffee? But it doesn’t end there – what’s more important, changing Nico’s pee soaked diaper, or savoring my first sip? He’s been lying in it for ten hours already, what’s a few more minutes gonna do? Do I break up the ugly battle over the remote or continue to ignore the eye gouging my kids are engaging in and pour myself a much needed second cup? Do I serve my kids breakfast or sit for just a few more minutes and try to savor my liquid crack in a cup?

I admit, usually, the coffee wins. Now let’s get something straight – there’s nothing in the world that matters to me more than my kids. I dote, indulge, play and obsess over them probably more than I should or need to. But when it comes to coffee – I admit defeat. I know I’m a mess without my morning fix, so what’s the fuss. Maybe a little diaper rash and sibling battle before breakfast are a small price to pay for a loving mama who needs her java.