I Want My Coffee

Coffee. It’s my favorite beverage. My favorite aisle in the grocery store? The coffee aisle. I close my eyes and inhale the aromas: Kona blends, vanilla, chocolate, Costa Rican, Sumatra, Kenya, and so many more. I wish I could fill my house with the coffee aisle smell. I prefer the good stuff, the gourmet beans, but I’ll drink plain old Folgers any day of the week if it’s what’s available. Alas, it seems my coffee habit, even reduced, is causing Carson discomfort. Well, that’s an understatement. The poor kid has been screaming his head off every time he tries to have a bowel movement (boy have I been there…see previous posts!). So, in an effort to determine if his digestion troubles are a result from something I’ve been ingesting. The one thing that’s been a constant in my dietary repertoire? Coffee, of course. I skipped yesterday’s morning brew, and lo and behold, Carson had a massive diaper blowout with minimal complaining. I wanted to cry. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Carson can now produce a poop without all the drama, but when it’s time to get moving, I need my coffee. It’s my motivation for getting out of bed in the morning when I’ve spent all night nursing Carson every 2 or 3 hours. Even now it’s nearly lunch time, and I’m moving like molasses in winter. On any other day, this would be fine; I could nap and recuperate. Especially since Carson was up more frequently than usual last night. A growth spurt, maybe. But, today, I have to go on a shopping trip to finally buy the ‘fat pants’ I have been avoiding. There’s a brigade coffee tomorrow evening, and I’m pretty sure the ill-fitting jeans I’ve been rocking every day are not going to cut it for a ladies’ social. And, since I have to bring my favorite snack, and I opted for Oreo balls here, I’ve got those to make as well. So here I sit, blogging, when I should be showering, folding laundry, putting away Carson’s clothes, doing dishes, anything but sitting here typing away on my computer. But, without my coffee, and a combination of very little sleep last night, I lack the motivation to get moving. And the Army’s not helping. The night before last, I needed a break. I needed someone to rock Carson for just thirty minutes so I could shower, a little Mommy pampering time. Ryan didn’t get home until midnight, thanks to a heavy workload. And last night, when we were expecting to get some family time, I cooked pasta primavera and had it ready promptly at six pm for Ryan to eat dinner with me. He ate it lukewarm at 8pm. Turns out there was an FRG meeting that he had to go to. In case you’re unfamiliar with the acronym, FRG stands for Family Readiness Group. Yeah, family. As in, would have been nice for me to attend, but someone failed to inform the platoon leaders (i.e. Ryan) that it had been moved up. Sure would have been nice to attend an FRG meeting as a family. Way to go Army. Way to build family relations. Sigh. Guess I should get used to it.


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