Turns out coffee is very addictive, you guys. Not just a demure little habit to buy into because it looks super cute with a fringe scarf. It's pretty dangerous stuff. More insidious than Orbit gum and puppies even. It's actually really hard to stop. For me, I realized I had to stop. The day my Keurig machine froze up and I literally considered finding a babysitter at that moment so I could run out to replace the damn thing was when I knew I had larger fish to fry in my sad pond of hazelnut creamer than even I thought. Then there was the time I gave a full bodied girl scream when the UPS man rang my doorbell at 2pm....during a playdate. Yeah, that was another clue that I was a tad bit edgy. Edgy as a barbed wire fence on an electric slingshot. Mama needs less crack in her crockpot or someone is going to lose an eye during bath time.
Not one to relish the weaning process (two nursed babies and deflated tatas later - oh the memories) I chose to go cold turkey from all coffee on Friday. Let me tell you how glad you are you were not invited to that party. So much noise in my head my neighbors probably wondered when they should bust through the door with wooden crosses and police back up. The headache began at preschool pick-up. "I'm caffeine-free today," I shyly wince to a lady staring at me while I massage my temples like I'm caffeine-free and Amy Winehouse.
One hour later I get the kids home and diapered up for what I pray will be some miracle napping and I do it all with my eyes completely closed. Because any ray of light is an act of pure and vial hatred to my eyeballs and connecting neurons. Even my children's sweet laughter quickly becomes vacuum cleaner high carpet cycle to my ear canals and Abby's girly high pitched voice makes me hurry so fast to the underside of my own covers that I completely neglect to tuck her in. From my bedroom, I talk her through it with a loud whisper and lots of "Mommy is so proud of her big girl," until I can hear her switch on her own lullaby music since I forgot that too.
I had found my new low. And we were about to spoon.
While my blankets protect me from the sun and the sounds, nothing can protect my body from searching for the drug it always has and coming up empty. Frankly, it was more than a little pissed off about the whole setup. The process continues: search and no rescue, search and no rescue until my stomach churns with sickness and my skin prickles with chills and desperation. No coffee in those veins since Thursday night and someone is about to pay.
And pay I do with one wicked slamming headache and a residual up-chuck as my stomach attempts to gut itself in an effort to find more coffee beans.
Some time during this hell ride through self rehab, my children show up begging for something to eat. "I'm hungeeeee," says the little one.
"Abby's reaaaaaaaaalllly hungry," echoes the bigger one.
"We neeed snack," redemands Two.
"Grayson, please go get..." I say so hushed I'm quite sure I'm asleep, "please go get some Goldfish crackers and feed them to Abby. Mommy can't get up right now."
And they disappear down the hall and hopefully to the kitchen pantry. I wouldn't know because I pass out.
60 MINUTES LATER the kids are snuggled up next to me watching TV. Abby is on my left. She has a chocolate mustache. Grayson is flinging around one of my favorite bracelets with the arm of his Spiderman action hero on my right. My children have done God knows what for over an hour without me.
All because I believed kicking coffee in one day was going to be a walk in the park. I sincerely believed it was as simple as changing face soap. I knew my skin would itch or I would even break out for a day or so but overall a painless ordeal.
Not. Even. In. The. Slightest.
Next to my husband's deployment, this goes down as the second biggest Suckfest ever.
It's almost over. I'm eating extra strength Tylenol like it's wheat germ and Kit Kats like they might have medicinal qualities richer than their point 7 grams of caffeine too. At least I haven't revved up that evil Keurig in 48 hours. And if I do? You can bet the farm it's going to be decaf tea because I never want to smell another medium dark roasted organically blended cinnamon infused with caramel or chocolate undertones coffee bean in this house ever again.
My throbbing head will remember what this anarchy feels like loooonnnngg after the memory of the last Chai latte K cup fades away.