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Ode to a cup of coffee

June 10, 2009

Here’s a really silly poem, dedicated to all those parents who dream of enjoying a hot cup of coffee.

 

As a mother of two, it’s often true that I’m lacking adequate rest,

So I do depend on some caffeine to help me parent “best.”

 

A fresh-brewed pot of coffee, theoretically, should hit the spot,

But the coffee I end up drinking turns out  anything but hot.

 

The reason for this phenomenon can be traced to none other

Than the fact that I am a frazzled, tired, frantic working mother.

 

For those of you so interested, the day starts off like so:

I prepare breakfast for the kids and pour myself a cup of joe.

 

I’ve learned that I must relish that first delicious sip

For it will be the last hot one that I bring to my lips.

 

“I want…!”  “I need…!”  “Waaaaah!” (translated: “More food, you fool!”)

I scurry around the kitchen as the coffee begins to cool.

 

The kids are quiet and settled, so I sit down with my drink,

Then my dumb cat knocks a wine glass into the kitchen sink.

 

Discarding  glass, I wonder how I’ll make it through the morning,

Then the three-year-old spills his juice with little-to-no forewarning.

 

While scrubbing juice (and hey look, some cheese!) off the crumb-laden hardwood floor,

I glance up sadly at my coffee, which is cooling ever more.

 

Scrubbing done, I snag my mug and realize I must nuke it,

But the baby has now decided: for his oatmeal, he will puke it.

 

Scrubbing, wiping, cleaning, consoling, needing caffeine ever more,

I dump out my cooled coffee and give the cup a brand new pour.

 

One more hot, delicious sip (hey, awesome–I got two!)

Then the kids decide to sound–and smell–as if they’re in a zoo.

 

Diapers changed and voices tamed (and so exhausted, truth be told),

I sip again and realize now my coffee has gone cold.

 

(I vaguely recall the halcyon days of leisurely cups of joe,

Sipping steaming coffee with the New York Times in tow.

 

And tho’ I still drink coffee–and attempt to read the news–

My waning leisure and cold, cold coffee  is giving me the blues. )

 

The kids are done with breakfast and now want to go and play,

My coffee spends one more half-minute in the microwave.

 

The coffee’s hot (my sanity’s not) as I follow my  kids to their toys,

And soon I am distracted by their demands and mess and noise.

 

Now it’s been an hour and my caffeine-deprived brain

Can tell my coffee’s turned to sludge, so I pour it down the drain.

 

So in the end, while I prefer hot coffee to help me think,

I do fear that I’m headed for iced caffeinated drinks.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. renbeth permalink
    June 11, 2009 5:09 am

    Amen! Your tolerance for a warm, then cool cup of coffee far exceeds mine, though – I’d probably throw Isaac in his crib for five minutes to make sure I got to drink mine warm :).

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