2.  Don’t drink coffee at 9pm.  If you are an amateur coffee drinker, do not order the “Campfire Mocha” because it sounded “yummy” and you were excited to be out among the childless on a weekday evening and you thought it would be a cute idea to sit on the outdoor cafe patio and enjoy a warm drink.  If you do order it, you may find yourself completely wired and unable to go to sleep until 12:30am.  Even after you manage to close your eyes and somewhat fall asleep, you may toss and turn and end up waking up for the day at 4:00am, saying to yourself: “Oh! That’s why people order decaf!” {Most importantly, had you not drank the freakin’ drink in the first place, you wouldn’t have just realized that the fat content was 40 GRAMS when you went to hyperlink it to your blog post. Excuse me while I go vomit.}

3.  Finally, just because you got free tickets for the whole family to the very entertaining Nickelodeon Storytime Live show about 3 hours before the performance starts (from your wonderful, wonderful friend), does not mean that you should go. Especially since you started feeling like H-E-Double Hockey Sticks right before it was time to leave the house.  Not wanting to let your children down or risk your friend’s reputation with the PR firm, will cause you to end up shivering violently through Dora’s quest to save “Sleeping Boots” from the evil witch’s spell and almost crying thru dinner afterwards because you feel like you have the flu.

Just sayin’

Of course, my mom swears that the only reason her eyes were closed was because she was “blinking.” Sure, Mom. Remember, the first step is admitting you have a problem.

Then one day I took a little taste.

Mmmm, it tasted so good. It felt so good going into my body, running through my veins. I felt warm all over. From there, it was the occasional taste, not everyday, but just whenever there was some around me. Of course, I would never buy it for myself. We would only have some in the house because Hubby would occasionally buy it. He mostly got his fix when he was at work.

Then my mom was in town for one of her visits. It’s tough when she’s here. This is when I have to be my strongest. She’s the pusher, pushing it in your face as soon as you wake up in the morning. “Here, have some. Nice and frrrrrrresh!” Rolling her “Rs” extra long, just for added emphasis.

That’s right, she’s Mexican. They basically grow that stuff in their backyards, or should I say, “courtyards” in Mexico.

Now you see my problem? It’s in my blood. It’s part of who I am.

Now this part is the worst part.

Brace yourselves.

My mom introduced it to me when I was five years old. FIVE. YEARS. OLD! Every day she would give me some. EVERYDAY.

What kind of mother does that??!!!

No wonder my growth was stunted. NO. WONDER. It’s her fault I have to hem my pants or buy my clothes in petite.

HER FAULT.

She buys her supply by the cases. She travels with my dad to these “medical conferences” and she triesthe local stuff.

HER: “Here, want some? Your Dad and I bought a case of it when we were in Louisiana for his medical conferrrence. It’s soooo gooood.”

Me: “No thanks, Mom, you know I don’t use that stuff anymore. I don’t need it, never felt better! (Lying)

HER: “Just try it, it’s good!

Me: “No. Thanks!! I’m good.

I realized today though, that I have a problem. My S-I-L called me this morning and she was asking me all kinds of questions about our plans to meet up this Saturday and a trip to visit her and my brother in May.
Who’s coming? What time? Where should we meet?

I hadn’t had my morning hit yet and all her questions had me nervous. Couldn’t remember my dates correctly. Couldn’t even recommend a place for us to eat dinner.

It was sad, pathetic. Is this what I’ve become? An addict?

Am I to the point where I need it to even make sense of my thoughts??

Yes. I am. I need that cup of coffee. I need a strong cup. I need it to think, I need it to function. I need it to feel good.

People, help me.

PS: Don’t forget our CUTE giveaway below!!

UPDATE: If you read this post earlier and it was full of typos, my apologies. That’s what happens when you try to write a post without having your morning cup! I thought I spell checked it and to my horror, I didn’t. YIKES! My mom also wanted to let everyone know that she didn’t let me drink a full cup of “cafe” when I was five, only a “few sips.” I guess the full cups started when I was six. *rolls eyes*

The Short cup is the secret cup at Starbucks that’s shorter, and cheaper, than the Tall cup. When I first heard it I didn’t believe it. How many times have I gone to Starbucks and asked for a “small” only to be told, “Tall?”. Plenty of times. Unless you ask for it, they won’t give it to you. And when you do ask for it, they whip the cup out of a secret cabinet or from behind the counter where it can’t be seen. But it exists, and they won’t advertise it. I only need a little coffee to get my battery charged up in the mornings. So if your like me, go Short!

Spread the word.