Every single time I make a pot of coffee, I think of mom. She was, if possible, worse at waking than I am. I remember being trained as a kid to make her coffee. We had a scooper that, filled to heaping corresponded to two cups of water. Because of the silly private language we used, I remember being directed by a sweetly groggy mom: “Three spooks and six bucks!” A bucka fockeee was a cup of coffee, adapted from a younger cousin’s toddlerspeak.
I remember the little artist’s pride I had learning the exact shade of light brown to tint her coffee with 2% milk or powdered creamer- the cream wasn’t important- the color was. (My nod to Dad is my love of black coffee.) Aunt Pea drinks hers like mom.
And here is a post embryo that has been hanging out in the womb of my drafts folder, unfinished:
One of the things I miss most about Mom is the dreams-and-coffee ritual we shared. Like I do, she always had vivid memories of several strange dreams each morning, and we’d swap dream stories over breakfast or in the car on the way to school or work during the times when we lived together or close. (Read: my entire life except for the nine or ten months in Pittsburgh. My two on-my-own apartments were within a city block of my mom’s and brother’s home base.)
I’m missing it a lot this morning, drinking my coffee and sharing my thoughts with the aether while my babygirl runs wild. Bu doesn’t have the intense dreams or the fascination with them that Mama & I had. I should write about them more.
And now my coffee is ready. It’s a lazy sweet morning. he Bird has a late morning appointment with Dr. McDreamy (I’m not a Grey’s fan but Souster is- he’s her pediatrician. Nurse Crunchy is not in today.) The poor boo has the worst diaper rash in the history of the yoni. It caused (I guess?) the tantrum that almost had me googling exorcism last night. FYI, the Wicca-tarian approved method for exorcism: Aristocats VHS tape, volume low, water sippy.
(I was so desperate I offered the nummins, but she refused. She said “NO!!! DONE!!!!” but of course at 4:00 am was not so over the boobs. I think we may have wee hours breastfeeding until infinity. I knew they would be the last to go, hope though I did that the ones I enjoy would hang around longest. Meh.)