Monday, March 25, 2013
Blessing on a Coffee Mug
Every time I open my "cup cabinet," a new mug or glass or plastic cup from some restaurant seems to find its way in there. Somehow, this cabinet shares the same parentage as the bag from "Mary Poppins" because I have no idea how all of these cups fit in there. As I peer into the cabinet, I'm reminded of a time nine years ago when Jeffrey and I stood in the households department of
excitedly scanning (and unscanning) the perfect glassware, flatware, dinnerware, etc. Unsurprising to all, I found myself more concerned with making everything precisely match to mine and Jeffrey's personalities than Jeffrey, as he just wanted to point the scan gun and shoot.
People from near and far proved beyond generous since we did score everything we asked for on our wedding registry, and not to mention, additional gift cards and cash and such. Of course that first year of wedded bliss and making our first home visually reflect the perfection we found in our marriage has over the span of almost nine years proved incredibly futile.
Forget Waterford goblets and let's get real here. Want something to drink? Just grab whatever Newk's or Mugshots cup you can get your hands on. Almost nine years of marriage and one baby later, no one gives two cents about whether or not the cup you're drinking from matches the Fiestaware (now chipped, by the way).
The other day, I came across one coffee mug in particular. I guess one of us had gotten it for Christmas because its overall look did not appear as something Jeffrey nor I would have bought for ourselves. (Plus, as previously insinuated, the only cups we buy for ourselves as of late come from whatever they serve us at Newk's or Mugshots.)The coffee mug states in cutesy bold letters, "Whoever came up with the phrase 'Sleep like a baby' obviously has never had a baby." At first, I just kind of snickered and went on about drinking my coffee.
However, about the third time I drank coffee from that mug, I got to thinking beyond just the "Truer words were never spoken" remark. After all I do hold two degrees in English which automatically makes me an expert at overanalyzing anything, including a blade of grass. Seriously, though, how ingenious is it to print such words on a coffee mug? Before Jude, I had not enjoyed a cup of coffee in two years! I didn't drink coffee at all while I was pregnant with Jude because I totally eliminated caffeine from my diet (yes, I know pregnant women are allowed a little caffeine, but I went cold turkey, and bear in mind that I did have a perfect pregnancy. Note that I said "pregnancy." Labor and delivery proved a bit less than ideal.)The year before I became pregnant, I wanted to get pregnant so badly that I did everything I could to keep my body as healthy as possible, so I cut caffeine out completely. Also, I had perfectly white teeth.
Now that the baby is here and has been for going on 22 months, I cannot live without my coffee! One and sometimes two or three cups a day will do me just fine. I have found two aspects about parenthood that no one could prepare me for--the erratic sleep patterns and the amount of love one can have for her child. I didn't need that coffee then, but boy do I need it now!
The mug said something else to me as well. There are two kinds of adults in this world: parents and nonparents. For years, I wanted to transition from nonparent to parent. Years ago, if I had seen the words on that mug, I would have rolled my eyes, muttered some sort of downer comment, and celebrated a teeny pity party about how I might never become a mother. I still feel the sting of that past sometimes. However, now I look at the words on that mug and think, "I completely understand. I'm finally part of what so many have talked up for so long." It makes me happy to drink out of that mug and read those words on it the same way it does when I see Jude's toys take over every room of my house.
I'm finally a mama, and perhaps that's why I don't feel bothered when someone asks, "When are you going to have another one?" Believe me, comments like that are much less biting than just "When are you going to have a baby?"
I know one day, I won't need as much coffee and my pearly white teeth will resurface, but for now I'll keep on drinking my coffee in a mug with words that clearly reflect why I need the coffee in the first place. I couldn't feel more grateful for it, either.