The Summer I Drank Hot Coffee

When I first had kids, I didn’t drink coffee. I just didn’t care for it or think I needed it. But at some point in the last 6.5 years I grew up, bought a coffee pot, and started drinking. At first it was the super milky, sugary stuff. Now I drink it with just a little half and half. Sometimes I drink it black. Yes, I’m that hardcore. But for a while, I pretty much gave up drinking hot coffee. I got sick of sticking it in the microwave. I resorted to iced coffee.

This summer has been different. There have been a few times my kids have been at grandparents. Yes, all 3. Sometimes I just have one kid. For 3 nights I had no kids and no husband. Just the dog and me. I don’t think that has ever happened before.

And I’m not going to lie, it’s been nice. I’ve had several cups of hot coffee. When my older 2 kids were gone for several days, I got to enjoy time with the youngest. It was incredible to focus on one child. I actually got down on the floor and played Mr. Potato Head and did puzzles. It dawned on me that I’ve never had a 2 year old and not either been pregnant or had a newborn. That means I actually feel like doing something more than sitting on the couch and praying for naptime.

This week all my kids are back around. There is no camp or VBS to attend. We can sleep in and wear PJs all day if we want. I did acquiesce and took my kids to the library this week. I should love the library, but for some reason I always leave beyond stressed. My kids look at me with those eyes that say, “please, please take us to the library where we can read tons of books and better ourselves and be amazing contributors to society.” But all I think of is the temper tantrums and the million books my kids will pull off the shelves, and the fighting over the computer.

 But like I said, I gave in this week. And my youngest had numerous tantrums, and each child chose 50 bazillion books, and then I ran into a friend. Thank goodness she was there, because I was then able to go to the bathroom by myself. And she watched me struggle. She knows…she has three kids. One kid would drop his library books, then the other would drop her library card, then the other would drop his library card while trying to pick up the books, then the two year old would through a fit, then the middle child would roll her eyes at my friend’s son who was just trying to be polite to her. People, I just don’t have enough hands to go to the library by myself. So my sweet friend asked her middle school aged son to carry our books to the checkout counter. And I was still struggling, so she had him walk with us to the parking garage and put our books in the car. I felt like I needed to tip him. But the only tip I could have given was, “Hey buddy, when you’re old and married and want to have kids, maybe don’t have one every 2 years.”

Another dear friend of mine warned me to not have kids this close together. She told me to wait until one got in school before going for #3. And I love her and respect her, but I didn’t listen. I told a friend the same thing… “Well it is easier if you wait a little bit longer.” But she didn’t listen to me. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was pregnant within the week. Because when we want kids, we want them. And we know it’s going to be crazy, but we just want them. And sometimes we go crazy because God doesn’t give them to us exactly when we want them.

I was thankful for this week when all the kids were back home. I smiled at our first meal together because this is exactly what I wanted when I was a kid. A table full of kids. Silly kids, messy kids, life-loving kids. And I want to pull my hair out over this table of kids some days, but it’s still exactly what I want. Hot coffee, cold coffee, no coffee. I’ll take it however; I just want these kids. And the truth is that I probably should stop writing this sappy stuff because my coffee is getting really cold.