By Heather Humrichouse
No one can understand the truth until he drinks of coffee's frothy goodness.
~Sheik Abd-al-Kadir
When I married Mike, I knew he came into the marriage as a full-fledged CA (Coffee Addict). It didn't bother me. I liked the smell of coffee and the yummy scents that came from the kitchen when he brought home specialty coffee beans like Kona and flavors like Irish cream, crème brûlée, English toffee, and amaretto. And yet, I had no desire to try it.
No one can understand the truth until he drinks of coffee's frothy goodness.
~Sheik Abd-al-Kadir
When I married Mike, I knew he came into the marriage as a full-fledged CA (Coffee Addict). It didn't bother me. I liked the smell of coffee and the yummy scents that came from the kitchen when he brought home specialty coffee beans like Kona and flavors like Irish cream, crème brûlée, English toffee, and amaretto. And yet, I had no desire to try it.
My husband offered me a cup every day with a smile on his face, claiming he'd wear me down eventually. My friends even tried to talk me into trying it. "I love having Maxwell House moments with my husband," one confided. I rolled my eyes.
Then Samuel James was born and life took a dramatic turn. Now the mother of two little ones, and far from family, I was exhausted. My husband's new job had him leaving at the crack of dawn and after several sleepless nights I could barely function. One morning, I stumbled downstairs and spotted the coffee pot still glowing, with one cup of coffee still warm.
A moment after I took my first sip it hit my bloodstream. My eyes opened wider, I walked faster, I smiled bigger, and it felt great. From that day on, I started drinking coffee in the morning, claiming that it was just to help me function after sleepless nights. The afternoon espresso was a little harder to explain.
Five months later, Sam was sleeping through the night. I was getting eight hours of sleep and still craving coffee in the morning. My husband smiled knowingly. "You like the stuff now, don't you?"
"All right," I cried. "Fine. I love the sheer variety of options — the syrups, the decaf, half-caf, the so-caffeinated-that-my-eyes-don't-blink-for-a-week, the lattes, the cappuccinos, iced, tall, grande! I love the Styrofoam cups with the sippy lids so I don't spill. I love that coffee and chatting go together so well! And fine! Maxwell House moments do exist and they are wonderful. I love wrapping my fingers around a big, beautiful ceramic mug and the warmth it brings me. And when I've had a really bad day, I can sneak a bit of whipped cream and chocolate syrup into my coffee and no one's the wiser."
I think my husband was a bit surprised. I think he was more surprised when, a couple of weeks later when Sam was sick, I told him that I believed a person couldn't truly appreciate the blessing of coffee until they'd been sleep-deprived at least once. So I gave him the wonderful gift of being on night-duty with Sam.
He didn't exactly thank me, but I think he did appreciate his coffee (and me) a lot more the next day. And that's all the thanks I need.
Then Samuel James was born and life took a dramatic turn. Now the mother of two little ones, and far from family, I was exhausted. My husband's new job had him leaving at the crack of dawn and after several sleepless nights I could barely function. One morning, I stumbled downstairs and spotted the coffee pot still glowing, with one cup of coffee still warm.
A moment after I took my first sip it hit my bloodstream. My eyes opened wider, I walked faster, I smiled bigger, and it felt great. From that day on, I started drinking coffee in the morning, claiming that it was just to help me function after sleepless nights. The afternoon espresso was a little harder to explain.
Five months later, Sam was sleeping through the night. I was getting eight hours of sleep and still craving coffee in the morning. My husband smiled knowingly. "You like the stuff now, don't you?"
"All right," I cried. "Fine. I love the sheer variety of options — the syrups, the decaf, half-caf, the so-caffeinated-that-my-eyes-don't-blink-for-a-week, the lattes, the cappuccinos, iced, tall, grande! I love the Styrofoam cups with the sippy lids so I don't spill. I love that coffee and chatting go together so well! And fine! Maxwell House moments do exist and they are wonderful. I love wrapping my fingers around a big, beautiful ceramic mug and the warmth it brings me. And when I've had a really bad day, I can sneak a bit of whipped cream and chocolate syrup into my coffee and no one's the wiser."
I think my husband was a bit surprised. I think he was more surprised when, a couple of weeks later when Sam was sick, I told him that I believed a person couldn't truly appreciate the blessing of coffee until they'd been sleep-deprived at least once. So I gave him the wonderful gift of being on night-duty with Sam.
He didn't exactly thank me, but I think he did appreciate his coffee (and me) a lot more the next day. And that's all the thanks I need.
http://www.chickensoup.com
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