Posts Tagged ‘caffeine boost’

i sit in a coffee shop. my favorite one in downtown annapolis because it actually does NOT have tourists. it’s a gem to me, this quiet hole-in-the-wall place with a couch in the front window. the couch is covered with a sheet and stained with caffeinated beverages and remnants of scones.

i choose an over-sized chair to sit in near an electrical outlet so i can plug in. my beverage order is taken. i even get a muffin that i’ll probably only eat half of because it’s so enormous. the muffin is placed on a chipped plate, coffee is handed to me and both of these delectable items join my iphone on top of a small mosaic table.

i sit in a coffee stop. i’m wearing my favorite jeans, though it’s over 100 degrees outside today. my jeans that i hardly ever wash because they fit with such comfort that it is as though they are a precious friend, enveloping me in the perfect hug. my hair is unwashed, curls are damp from humidity. my teeth are brushed.

wait.

runs tongue across teeth… tastes colgate.

yup, they are brushed.

but i forgot deodorant.

because i practically ran out the door this morning. this sunday morning. a morning where some families rush out the door to get to church on time… brunch on time… relatives’ houses on time.

i ran out the door to this coffee shop, this sanctuary, to escape.

and i now sit here feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt envelop me.

i have taken time for myself.

**********

my first “real” boss taught me the invaluable lesson of setting boundaries. i say “real” boss because i consider the time i spent working at a women’s crisis center, straight out of grad school, to be my first “real” job… a steady job. the income was crap, but it was a non-profit agency and i have a tendency to forget that one needs money in order to exist.

my emotions and passion had driven me to accept this job in the first place. my “save the world” mentality had entirely taken over and this was the job that was going to prepare me to save the world… from what, i still do not know, but dammit, i was goina save it from something.

anyone who works in a social work environment knows that it is taxing in ways that corporate america is not. i don’t say this to say one is better than the other. they are just simply different and come with different expectations and needs.

clients needs are different. emotions run high. often you operate in “crisis mode” when responding to a client’s needs because usually those needs are immediate. they come to you NOW because they need you NOW.

the day i turned my 2 weeks notice in to my boss, we both cried.

it was hard.

it’s hard to realize that you can’t save the world, no matter how damn hard you try.

she had taught me about boundaries.

she gave me my sharpie marker.

so, i popped the cap off and drew a straight line.

**********

i sit in a coffee shop. i wonder if life is filled with sharpie markers, some with their caps still tightly on, others with ink nearly gone.

i drew a line this morning.

i needed solace.

i knew exactly where i would go.

i drove here, envisioning these words in my mind, beginning this post in my head while sitting at traffic lights.

and yet, i sit here, now writing these words and feel guilty for taking a moment to put myself first.

i check my iphone for a text from my husband, my parents… from anyone who may possibly need me.

no messages.

because i’ve taken out my sharpie marker and drawn a line. no need to put up a sign that says “do not cross.”

the line speaks for itself.

it’s ok for me to say “no” sometimes.

mom is here. jackson is taken care of, NOT BY ME. (((deep cleansing breath)))

this is the second time i have been given this gift… this glorious gift of TIME to “work” (meaning making a dent in my inbox, catching up on my favorite blogs, working on my book proposal… working on the ACTUAL BOOK that i am pitching)… ya know, “work.”

i set out with a smile on my face, my macbook and earphones and await the glory of the coffee that will come once i find the RIGHT SPOT to plant myself for a few hours and “work.”

arriving at whole foods, i pay for my dark chocolate skim mocha and find my spot… near an outlet to plug in my laptop.

i settle myself. snag an extra chair for my oversized, underpriced purse from target that doubles as my diaper bag and today, my laptop bag. i plug in, log on to the wifi network, take my first sip of my beverage and breathe.

the last week + has been particularly stressful and ridden with anxiety that i cannot go into detail about in this forum. needless to say, having this break, this breath of caffeinated air, this TIME ALONE with just me and my computer is priceless.

i check in with some twitter friends who i haven’t communicated with in (HOLY SHIT) 24 hours because my mom has arrived and i was busying myself snuggling with her as though i was the one nearly turning 2 years old and not my son.

and as i check in with my twitter friends, two women take seats nearby… close to my spot.

you see, i’m sitting at a bar, looking out a window… a lengthy bar that offers a plethora of seats for people to enjoy coffee, delicious food and good company.

one woman is telling the other about her latest “fuck buddy” and how her age (46) has caused him to leave her and now she is angry… like REALLY ANGRY just relaying this story to her friend.

she bangs her fist on the bar. multiple times. continuing to talk with her hands, she then explains the moment of him leaving her apartment and hits, bumps, slaps the bar repeatedly.

at first i feel badly for this woman. she’s obviously distraught and confiding in a friend. but then i notice that others around me are starting to notice her. it’s not just me acknowledging her behavior… hearing pieces of a conversation that (in my opinion) should be taking place behind closed doors, on a couch with your friend and a bottle of wine.

she hits the table again.

“i told him ‘that’s it!’” she exclaims.

and now i’m irritated. so, like any good blogger who is attempting to make headway through their inbox while also on twitter, i begin tweeting about her.

so the earphones are in and the music is blaring and i decide that my inbox and any sort of REAL THOUGHT will have to be put on hold until this woman is gone because NO ONE AROUND HER can focus on anything but her ranting.

i look for other seats… no other outlets are available. i need an outlet because my battery is low… not too terribly low, but low enough for me to not risk moving my seat.

i stay. i decide to blog about her. just to rid myself of this angst and document this experience of THE ONE DAMN TIME I GET OUT TO HAVE COFFEE AND COMPUTER TIME IN PUBLIC…

pink is blaring gloriously in my ears… “child be still…”

I’M TRYING!!!! I’M REALLY TRYING!!!!!

there’s a tap on my shoulder. i’m jarred from my writing. i turn and meet the face of an older woman who is already mid-sentence with me. obviously i cannot hear her because MY EARPHONES ARE STILL IN MY EARS, yet she is talking to me.

i mute my itunes, pull out an earphone and turn in my seat to face her.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my laptop) “is this one of those little laptops, like the small ones?”

ME: “um… well, it’s a macbook, but i’m pretty sure there are smaller ones out there. are you shopping specifically for a mac?” like i give a fuck.

OLDER WOMAN: “i don’t know, but i know there’s a smaller one and i didn’t know if this is the smallest there is or if there are smaller or what you would recommend?”

ME: (thinking to myself… do i look like i fucking work at best buy?) “honestly, it probably all depends on what you would be using it for. i would suggest researching one that is not only the size you want but offers the programs and applications that you would use the most.”

she pats my shoulder, points over to her husband whose standing 10 or so feet away with their coffees, waiting for her and probably burning the palms of his hands while holding their coffee.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my macbook) “i think we can get smaller than this…”

she walks away.

and then i tweet this.

lesson learned… just stay at home, lock myself in my bedroom and put in earplugs. i may live a solitary existence for the remainder of my life and never again enjoy the glorious splendor of a dark chocolate skim mocha from whole foods, but at least i’ll get some peace… til the magoo awakes.

cuz i almost lost mine this morning. yes, my cooter came THIS CLOSE to dying a horrific and blistering death this morning thanks to scalding hot coffee and sleep deprivation.

if you saw my tweets this morning, you may have experienced the aftermath of my near-cooter-demise…

mind you, i am not currently covered in lower abdominal boils, nor are there any pinkish, tender areas of said cooter region… but HOLY CRAP YA’LL it was traumatizing, and most definitely NOT how one wants to wake up in the morning, especially a monday morning.

because, mondays suck. no matter what takes place during your day… if it’s a monday, it sucks. sorry, but it just does.

if the week began on a tuesday, tuesdays would suck. alas, it begins on a monday, thus mondays suck.

back to my cooter…

i’m lucky enough to have one of those fantastically hot husbands who gets up before i do in the morning and brings me coffee in bed. ((((swoon)))) i know, and i love every second of it, especially when he brings me a dark chocolate covered biscotti along with the coffee.

paul knows i need AT LEAST one cup of coffee running through my veins before i can begin to contemplate my day with the magoo. on special occasions, like president’s day, or mondays when paul needs to get to work early because he has a class to teach at 7:55, he’ll add not one BUT TWO shots off espresso to my coffee.

a friend of ours once told us this coffee beverage is referred to as a “hammer head,” but we prefer to be crude about it and create out own names using both the words “hammer” and “head” on an individual basis in order to create such inappropriate names.

it’s fun.

so, this morning, paul gets up with his alarm… he shaves… and then proceeds to make my “jack hammer” out in the kitchen while i continue to sleep peacefully. he places the delicious beverage on my nightstand along with a dark chocolate covered biscotti, and then wakes me up…

BY SHAKING ME VIOLENTLY BECAUSE OTHERWISE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO WAKE ME FROM MY SLUMBER!!!

once paul sees me adjust myself from the position of fully laying down to sitting somewhat upright and sipping my coffee, he goes to the bathroom to shower and continue his morning routine.

little did he know that i would fall back to sleep while sitting up…

AND SPILL FUCKING COFFEE WITH FUCKING ESPRESSO ON MY FUCKING COOTER!!!

i mean for christ’s sake, i close my eyes for ONE SECOND and the coffee mug goes…

give me a break!!!

so my lower abdomen that houses my c-section scar, thereby giving me two bellies, is scalded through my tshirt. and then i raise the tshirt and see BELOW…

and the underpants (don’t worry, they were boy-shorts, not granny panties) were soaked…

my cooter was MAGENTA with fury.

i lept out of bed, but this of course meant that i spilled that much more of my “head jack” on the bed, wasting that much more of the lusciously caffeinated beverage and soaking our sheets.

the now 1/4 cup mug of coffee is placed on my nightstand, the dark chocolate biscotti still awaits tantalizing my taste buds, and i disrobe. i strip down, leaving my coffee-soaked tshirt and underpants on the sheets and light blanket that have been covered in the “jack hammer” that paul made for me to enjoy.

i knock on the bathroom door. paul opens it.

HIM: “hey.”

ME: “move over. i spilled the fuckin coffee and i’m soaked.”

HIM: “that sucks.”

ME: “no shit. move over.”

HIM: “are you hurt?”

ME: “well, it didn’t feel good.” (then showing him my MAGENTA pink abdomen)

HIM: “dang.”

ME: “yeah, thanks. shampoo please.”

and thus began my monday… how was yours???

my parents gave us an espresso machine for christmas, which is VERY APPRECIATED as it was MUCH NEEDED in our household. the problem is that paul is classically trained in the operation of the espresso machine (because he read the manual) and i am not (because i don’t read instructions… ever.)

i just attempted to make my first mocha with a double shot of espresso. and i failed. kind of. what i am now drinking does contain chocolate syrup and two + shots of espresso because i overflowed, so i will most likely have the caffeine jitters by the time i hit “publish” on this post.

i should’ve just gotten in the car and gone to starbucks.

though i have what i would call a distinct NEED for coffee (paul would most likely call it an obsession), i am in particular NEED of caffeine to run through my veins at this distinct moment on this distinct monday for the following reasons…

- the weekend didn’t work out as we had intended. originally, paul and i were going to go away and ski for the weekend. i bailed. why? because i didn’t want to pack yet another suitcase. i’ve been living out of suitcases since november and the thought of packing another one and prepping just for a short weekend getaway gave me a panic attack and made me consider cutting my wrists (the incorrect way, don’t worry.)

- instead of going to bed early on friday night to catch up on the sleep that i have not been getting over the last 2 months, i stayed up til 1 am with my husband, drinking beer and watching conan’s last show. paul and i took a trip to nyc a few years ago and stood in line to be audience members in one of conan’s shows, but we honestly weren’t HUGE conan fans. yeah, what NBC is doing is totally dick and jay leno is a douche, but we knew that already.

- the magoo ended up spewing liquid out of both ends of his body because he was fed expired hummus (the individual who fed said expired hummus to the magoo shall remain nameless.) needless to say, this made things very NOT fun for saturday evening and into sunday. multiple loads of puke and diarrhea laundry is not my idea of a good time. in addition to the extra laundry, a horrendous diaper rash now festers on my son’s bum.

- i’ve been contacted with regards to a potentially STABLE freelancing gig as a blogger, and i’m sweating bullets over it because it could be ABSOLUTELY AWESOME. those of you who blog, freelance, or just dream of “working” while sitting on your couch, not wearing a bra and drinking a crappy mocha know what i mean. i can say no more about this potential opportunity because my palms are already dripping with sweat and i don’t want to short-circuit my keyboard. also, i could jinx it.

- i’m in the midst of my anxiety meds being adjusted, which is never an easy experience. regardless of what you may take medication for, adjusting any bit of it, whether it’s the dosage or switching to an entirely different drug, is so hard to do. this is why they call it “chemistry” and why i came THIS CLOSE to failing it in high school. every teeny milligram, even part of a milligram of the medication needs to be JUST RIGHT in order for it to balance out what is currently imbalanced in mah head. this process, when it works, can take up to weeks to see “improvement.” it’s not a fun process for me or for those around me, cuz they never know when i’m goina go all wack-a-doo on their asses… or just not be able to get out of bed.

- on a similar note, i’m getting to spend countless hours each day finding a shrink who takes my insurance. currently there are none within a 60 mile radius of where we live. that’s the bad news. the good news is that my family practitioner (who i saw last week) is helping me as much as possible to use her resources to find me someone to purge my shit on.

- this maryland weather is so messed up and it’s messing with mah head. i need to see the sun. i NEED to. it can be cold as hell out (well, hell supposedly isn’t cold… i’ll report back once i learn for sure) point being, as long as i can see sunshine, i’m good. lately, if the sun peaks out here, it lasts for about 25 minutes and then it’s gone for 25 days. not so good.

- the magoo bed/crib situation is still sucking. this of course is unless paul is home, and then all is well with the world. the magoo sleeps 2 + hours, wakes up happy as a clam, and doesn’t make me absolutely distain toddlerville. when paul is not home, we have what i now refer to as the magoo-monster. this does NOT make for good nap times, which does NOT make for fun afternoons and makes me absolutely loathe toddlerville and all that comes with it. the magoo-monster is manipulating and playing the favorite parent game.

so those are my reasons for needing an abundance of caffeine. i have now consumed 85% of my mocha and all i have left is chocolate syrup.

just hook me up to an IV next time.

i thought of this post while sitting on the toilet last night. fear not, it was only a # 1 and not a #2. nevertheless, i was on the pot, taking my last pee time before turning in for bed, when i did something that prompted this post.

i bent in half to finish peeing.

there, i said it. i put my head to my knees, while sitting on the toilet and bent my upper body in 1/2 in order to fully empty my bladder. usually this keeps me from getting up in the middle of the night to pee, but not always. i do this all the time… the bend in half thing. i’ve done this for the last (almost) 19 months since the magoo.

and so doing this, once again, last night, got me thinking…

in terms of body-issues, vanity, bodily functions (basically leaving the emotions and gushy unconditional love stuff out of the equation), what do you wish you had known before you had a baby???

**********

i asked my mother, my sage, about this very thing a few months ago… the pee thing. we were in a restaurant, and both of us had gone to “powder our noses” at the same time. while in my stall and mom in her’s, knowing hoping no one else was in the restroom with us, i asked her point blank, as i bent my upper body in half.

“do you have to bend in half to totally pee??? like… TOTALLY pee…”

she laughed in the stall next to me, flushed and said, “yup, that’s whatcha do after you have kids. sorry to say.”

**********

thinking about the fact that i have to now bend my upper body in half while sitting on the throne of glory in order to fully empty my bladder, led me to consider other bodyish thoughts… and i realized there are TONS of things i wish i had known about my body, and what would happen to it, as a result of having a baby.

****WARNING: some of the information below may be considered TMI; however, i’m assuming those of you who are already parents, regardless of whether you are the mother or the father, are well-versed in this stuff… those of you who are parents-to-be, well… you may want to close your browsers if you’d rather just figure things out on your own. lastly, dads, please feel free to jump in with thoughts, wishes of your own.****

now for me, i obviously wish i had known that i would have to bend in half for the rest of my adult life in order to fully empty my bladder.

i wish i had known that regardless of how long a mother nurses her child (should you choose to be a nursing mother), the saggy post-nursing boobs you gain will cause this ring of sweat underneath your boobs that always makes me feel like i need to wear a sports bra to absorb the excess sweat. this also means that i constantly occasionally battle the saggy post-nursing boobs pimples due to the sweat.

i wish i had known that regardless of whether you have a vaginal delivery or a c-section, your belly will NEVER be what it once was, unless you have eleventy-and-ten dollars to spend on a personal trainer and chef. (and chances are, if you find your new family with additional funds at the end of each month, those monies will most likely NOT be spent on a personal trainer nor a chef, but on diapers and wipes and diaper genie liner refills.)

i wish i had known that i will always have (what i call) my “belly-on-belly”… this is the upper portion of my belly that includes my belly button and then folds where my c-section scar is and poofs out below, thereby creating the lower belly. though i am a size 6-8 (a 6 on VERY good days that consist of me eating VERY little due to running around with the magoo and forgetting to eat) and i stand 5 ft 9 in tall, i will always have the “belly-on-belly.”

i can’t speak for those who have blasted babies out of their vag because the 9 lb 6 oz magoo was cut and delivered out of my abdomen, but i fully encourage those of you who have delivered vaginally to explicity share TMI details for all to benefit from.

i, for one, am very interested to hear about vaginal deliveries and the aftermath of your body (ok, your vag) should our next child be a vbac baby (vaginal birth after cesarian).

****NOTE: this is in NO way meant to imply that we are even CONSIDERING getting pregnant with our second ANY time soon. the question is posed to simply serve the purpose of conversation and sharing of experiences. (sorry mom.)****

to continue… i wish i had known that my post-baby body would require so much caffeine to get through the day that the amount of money our family spends on coffee, sugar and coffee creamer would equal the amount that we spend on diapers.

i wish i had known what partially digested hypoallergenic formula smelled like and felt like when regergitated on my body repeatedly; especially when i found said partially digested hypoallergenic formula down my shirt, my sports bra, dried and crusted on my neck, and occasionally in my hair. (it should go without saying that i also wish i knew how much that formula would cost.)

alright… that’s what i’ve got so far… and now i have to go run after the magoo…

**********

so play the vanity game along with me and share what you wish you had known before you had a baby (post-baby-bod version.) the more explicit, the better!!!

Apparently with a 45 minute long flight from Atlanta to Jacksonville, this plane is not equipt with wifi.

Delta FAIL.

Though I’ve been up for hours and feel like this…

I got myself one of these in the hopes that it wakes my ass up.

I even took the above two pictures of myself on the flight, since I had the ENTIRE row to myself. Proof that these luxuries only take place when I travel sans Magoo. Yup.

My flight yesterday from Baltimore to Atlanta, oversold. Travel agents were begging people to forgo their ticket for a voucher, offering both cash and the names of their first born children in order for people to adjust their schedules and give up their seat.

My flight today from Atlanta to Jacksonville, not even HALF full. People are sprawled out in their own rows. The man in the row next to me is snoring so loudly that I find myself abundantly grateful for Paul giving me his headphones so I can listen to music (yet I still hear the snoring man).

So this morning I head to Jacksonville. Magoo is with my mom til Thursday, while I go help the Magoo’s godparents with their TWINS!!!!

And no, Billy and Rachel, to my knowledge, have no idea that my knee is busted… fractured and my cartilage behind said kneecap is non-existent. I opted out of sharing this information with them this week because I knew they would make me cancel.

Not an option.

The TWINS (and yes I must write in caps when I say the TWINS because they are that cool) are now 2 months old and I have not even met them yet. Come hell or high water, I am bound and determined to get my ½ crippled ass down to Jacksonville and see these babes… and help out Mama Rach as much as possible during Billy’s work week.

Thursday, I will hop a flight back to Atlanta, meet Grammy and my Magoo at the airport where we will make the Magoo exchange, and then head home to Annapolis.

Friday my in-laws will arrive to make home in our home for the following 10 days, while I furiously do laundry and repack and catch a flight at 6 am Saturday morning for 10 days out West.

Phew…

And incase you don’t understand the title of this post… i leave you with this…