this is no time to go off my uppers

I haven’t been writing. There is so little time these days, one day melts with another, I scarcely look at a clock before noon, and my house is a messy cyclone around me filled with loud confusing voices, movement and riots, leaving me sputtering and dizzy. These are the days of new babies and parenting especially young children, I suppose. But if I wasn’t so woozy and if I had a moment to spare, much of the things of daily life after a baby isn’t pretty enough to write about. In fact, a lot of it is downright ugly. And if it isn’t too ugly, it’s simply too confusing, too difficult and frustrating to try to put to paper…or screen. I’m sure people who have been through it understand (if you allow yourself to remember these times and haven’t completely blocked it out of your memory. Repression. Ain’t it grand?) to those who haven’t and are morbidly curious, I’m sorry. Words fail me. time fails me. and it will all be lost forever because by the time I have the time to write it all, sort through it and make meaning of it, I will already have forgotten it.

I did want to write about something though. Pay no attention to those kids yelling and playing in the other room, jumping on the furniture, they will be fine. And don’t mind miles’ bird like cries next to me in his little rocker thingy with my foot constantly rocking him. He likes to be held these days. All day. Didn’t we all in our earliest lives? I can take a moment to write about a little something here.

Coffee. My love/hate relationship with it. Basically, the fact that, when I drink coffee in the morning, I enjoy an extremely short wake-up time and am soon feeling on top of the world and contented with my life. However, life with coffee is never a smooth ride and it isn’t too long before I find myself plummeting headlong down into the dumps, losing my patience with the kids, feeling the walls closing in on me and the like. I need to live a pure life, I said to myself, one without uppers or downers of any sort, so that I can remain more balanced and even-keel for my children. Sure, the voice of reason, right? This would also be nighttime, not morning. Morning tells another story doesn’t it? Well, morning rolled around like it tends to do, and I forwent my cup o’ joe. I was feeling groggy, but proud of myself and steadfast on my new path.

Then the afternoon came. And with it, an incredibly low mood, complete with pricking at the corners of my eyes. My patience had shrunk down to a tiny fraction of what it normally is. My life seemed spiraling out of control.

Suddenly a pounding headache set in. “I wonder if this is what people call a caffeine headache?” I asked myself, dumbly.

Greg came home early and asked how I was, how was my day. That’s when I burst into tears. Started blathering on about regrets from the past, choices we had made. He looked at me concerned, wondering where all this had come from. He looked in the living room. The kids were plopped in front of the laptop, watching tripe on the tube, eating prepackaged snack food for lunch. Then I added, as an afterthought, “and I gave up coffee today.” Ding, ding! “Um, babe?” he said, a smile of relief spreading on his lips, “that’s it. Just drink some coffee. You should know not to fuck with your coffee at a time like this.”

“really?” I asked, face still contorted in agony, “you think this is all from not drinking coffee?” I wondered if he could be right. Could coffee really have that strong an influence on my physical and mental health? “Yes! Now hurry up and drink some before things get any worse.” I took this as sage advice and perked a pot on the spot. Just smelling it, I felt better. The headache had gone from mild to migraine-grade over the last few hours and was now coming in pulsating waves that were leaving me in a daze, having to shut my eyes through them. Now, as I downed half a cup, the world leveled out again, the pounding in my head faded away, my now happy neurons awash in a tide of endorphins. Ah. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well that’s the last time I’m doing that!” I said.

“Don’t fuck with your coffee, babe,” greg said again for emphasis, “we need you.”

Right-o.

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Author: Terry

Welcome! I am a Waldorf and unschooling-inspired homeschooling parent of three, ages 2, 4, and 7 living in the Lansing area of Michigan writing from the front lines of parenthood. Join me as I try to navigate homeschooling and bask in the craziness of life with young ones. Feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear from you! Thanks for stopping by!

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