Tag Archives: coffee

Life with Maura, day 5077

12 Apr

It is spring break, so my brain is officially mush. The teens can smell the weakness I’m emitting.

But right now, three out of four of the offspring are passed out in their beds. The fourth – who is actually the fourth – has slothed her way to the sofa to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Eventually, though, she got hungry. Maybe it was the smell of my freshly brewed coffee that awoke a hunger in her. But either way, she schluffed from the sofa into the kitchen, pulled out bread and the jar of Nutella, and did her interpretive dance that says “Mom, make me a sammich.”

I didn’t want to make a sammich. I was sitting down, with my laptop and coffee.

“Why don’t you just eat some of the pizza in the fridge?” I suggested. Because cold pizza for breakfast is a family tradition.

Maura seemed to like this idea, and pulled out the pizza box. She tried to walk out of the kitchen with all the leftover pizza.

“Maura, no, just take one piece.”

“NO!”

“Maura…”

“Fine.” She put the pizza box on the counter and went back into the fridge to pull out the 2 liter of rootbeer I got to go with said pizza last night.

“No Maura, it is too early for soda.”

“NO!”

I got up and took the 2 liter from her. She balked. “It’s too early.” I stated again, putting it in the fridge.

“Noooo!”

She lunged for the fridge. I found myself splayed across the fridge doors doing my own “Nooo!” right back. Because this is what my life has become – guarding the refrigerator like the Crown Jewels, begging teens to not eat every damn thing in there.

Maura then went over to the counter and banged the jar of Nutella.

“Want me to just make you a sandwich?” I said with a sigh of defeat.

“Yes!”

Maura left the kitchen to return to her couch slothing to TMNT and I made the damn sammich that I should have just made in the first place.

And I’m still trying to drink my coffee.

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art credit – Mike Mitchell

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Keeping your coffee safe during those bumpy shopping trips #lifehack

22 Aug

Do you ever do something, something you do a lot, and one day as you’re doing it, realize “Gee, this may seem weird…” and then you laugh and take a photo because it is a bit weird at first glance?

Example A – I buckle my coffee in when we grocery shop.

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There’s my little precious iced latte, looking so adorable, sitting up all by its little self in the seat of the shopping cart. But my latte could slide around, potential spilling, if I don’t consider its safety. That’s why I buckle it in. To keep it from sliding, to keep it from spilling its precious caffeine-laden contents, so no harm comes to it during our shopping trip.

Safety first people!

I would suggest, however, not to talk to it or call it “My precious” out loud while shopping. People might see that as more than just peculiar. Not that I’ve ever talked to my coffee. That would be weird. Right coffee? Right.

Just a normal Wednesday morning over Christmas break

30 Dec

Maura’s watching Doctor Who. Again. She’s been binging on Doctor Who all break. Which would be cool if A) she just watched the shows straight through instead of stopping them midway and B) she didn’t want to watch the same episode over and over and over and over and I’m looking at you Peter Capaldi episode about Robin Hood.

Josh woke me up with that. “Maura’s watching Doctor Who. I’m heading into the office in a moment.”

“Is there milk for my coffee?” I asked, one eye open.

“I bought a gallon last night so there should be at least a half gallon left.”

“I love you.”

Because we know the important things in life.

I stumble out of bed, turn on the kettle, go find slipper socks for my icy little feet, and let the dogs out as Maura goes “Snow! I love snow!” There’s frost on the ground, close enough.

I make coffee and go to get one of my protein bars that I hide from Maura because they’re chocolate flavored and she’ll eat all five in the box in one go. She spots my protein bar, and goes rummaging for one herself.

“Here, let me get one for you.” I said. Because I don’t mind sharing. But I also don’t want her finding my hiding spot. Which, honestly, is a normal parent/tween thing anyway. You have teens? You’ll end up hiding food so they don’t eat it all in one go.

Sean comes out. “Do you mind if I cook the orange rolls?”

“Go for it.”

He rummages around, comes back. “Um, where are they?”

“They should be in the fridge in the kitchen.”

He leaves, rummages more, returns. “I can’t find them.”

“Oh dear.”

Sean goes off again, returns again. “Mim said Maura wanted to cook them?”

Oh lord. So this week, Maura’s been into baking. Or “baking”. As in, she’s finding the extras from the holidays, a can of biscuits, a thing of cinnamon rolls, and asking me to bake them. She’ll then put on the oven mitts to help me by handing me the pan or taking the pan out of the oven as we discuss “hot”.

Maura also has a new backpack. The week before Christmas, she packed a lunch for her backpack, which included the full package of hot dogs, and four bananas. We discovered this a couple days after the lunch was packed.

All this flashed through my mind as Sean and I pondered over the missing can of orange rolls. I had visions of it being tucked under Maura’s bed, right on the heat vent, and what kind of mess it would make when it eventually exploded. However, Sean was more productive in his research, and discovered the empty container of orange rolls in the garbage, meaning someone cooked them, which meant I could stop worrying about when the missing can would explode.

“But when were they cooked?” asked Sean.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Maybe Collin cooked them late one night?”

“Anything is possible.”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have coffee to finish before going out to buy more food for teenagers. Because coffee. And teens.

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