Dragon Breath Revisited

Cut to two kids later  and I’m finally coming around to the idea that I need coffee, or more specifically caffeine, to survive.

mama needs

But I’ve been balking at this realization. I don’t want to succumb to the dragon’s breath that is in my future. As I’ve written before, my mom’s dragon breath has haunted me for decades and I’m not ready to submit my daughter to the same torture. Although now I like the idea of making her put up with my bad breath…she makes me put up with her shenanigans, so why not get some revenge where I can?!

First off, I’m not a hot drink kind of person. I don’t like to deal with a burnt tongue all day. However, I just learned that coffees come iced. Second, I discovered the wonderful world of lattes. They have more sugar than a Willy Wonka chocolate factory, which is right up my alley.

My kind of coffee

My kind of coffee

Recently I ordered a vanilla latte while the hubby ordered a plain iced coffee. I took a drink of mine, slightly grimaced at the coffee taste, but realized I could power through it for the caffeine buzz at the end of the rainbow. So what if it left an aftertaste as if I’d been licking the cat’s butt. Then I took a quick swig of the hubby’s and about vurped. I had the worst bitter beer face. That shit was lethal. Tasted like ass roasted in cow dung. At least what I imagine ass roasted in cow dung would taste like. I went back to my vanilla latte and it was pure heaven. Sweet, sugary heaven.

Now I’m on a quest to make my own iced lattes at home because I had a coffee epiphany. Coffee is crack–legalized crack. It makes everything better.

Makes me like my kids better. Makes me feel like I can conquer the world…or at least deal with my two *screaming idiots* for twelve straight hours without wanting to ship them to Siberia every other minute.

don't make meNo wonder my mom consumed three daily pots of coffee since I can remember. Mummy really does know best!


*Screaming idiots is a term of endearment in our household*

Crouching Tiger, Not-So Hidden Dragon Breath

My mom’s dragon breath has stayed with me for years. It’s the reason why I’m not a coffee drinker today. That, and coffee tastes like ass. But I’ve been seriously thinking about jumping on the coffee bandwagon. It’s the sleepless nights combined with the afternoon sluggishness and the nagging need to work on my “real” writing that is pushing me toward it. I figured if I stayed up a little later and worked on my novel when the entire house is put to bed and quiet, then maybe I’d be one step closer to achieving my lifelong dream of getting published. There is no way I could do this without drinking a pot or two of coffee to get me through, or else I’d want to take a long walk off a short pier.

When I say coffee, I’m not talking about the fancy frou-frou drinks at Starbucks. I mean plain ol’ make-it-yourself sludge. The kind of coffee that cleans out your insides as if you’d eaten a bushel of prunes followed by a basket of bran muffins.

I hear that coffee is a wonder drink capable of supplying a caffeine jolt, keeping you regular, and suppressing your appetite. So many pros. The biggest con, maybe the only one, has to be the dragon breath.

I figured when I became a mom that naturally the next step would be to start enjoying a cup of Joe during my morning routine, not feeling quite human until I took my first jittery drink. But it hasn’t happened yet. I’m afraid to become dependent on it if I take even one gulp.I don’t want to end up a slave to my coffee-maker, a virtual zombie without my java. But I guess I’m already part-zombie, so I should just buy some Altoids and learn how I take my coffee. I’m thinking with A LOT of sugar.