You know you're in trouble when....

...you get the biggest coffee they serve today so you can have "leftovers" the next morning when you know you won't have time to feed the addiction with a trip to Starbucks at 7am. Who in their right mind drinks "coffee leftovers?" Only a true caffeine-dependent. Perhaps I should start working the 12 steps. The first step is admitting you are powerless over your addiction. No coercion or intervention is necessary folks, I'll stand up and give my testimonial shamelessly! I believe that I can blame it all on my career choice of social work. Every addict has to have a scapegoat, no?

(***Disclaimer: this post is all in fun! Please don't take this as my criticism of addiction or try to stage an intervention for me at the Starbucks drive-thru. A) I understand that addiction is a serious issue that is not to be mocked, and B) I very well might run you down to place my order at the drive-thru. Consider yourself warned.)

It all began innocently enough in 1999, senior year of college...a paper cup of cheap vanilla latte from the vending machines in the college library. A girl has to have energy to cram for her Spanish final, right? Or maybe because it was fun to take a break and gawk at all the faux-Goth kids that were studying in the basement where the coffee machine was... Yeah, right...as if there would be legit Goth kids attending school at Catholic Disneyland! Whatever...

Fast forward to 2001 when I'm about to graduate from the masters program. The entire time I lived in Austin I might have made one pot of coffee. But I was starting to become a "social drinker" by going to Mozart's coffee shop...again, to "study" and check out the scene on the lake front while sipping a sugar-laden mocha. In an ultra-caffeinated state I churn out a 100 page paper on social work policy as it relates to the unauthorized sterilization of the MHMR population - in ONE NIGHT - and receive a BIG FAT "A". Talk about reinforcement! Those darn enablers! Plus, my unpaid 35-hr per week internship was at an in-patient substance abuse program for adolescent males who were court ordered to attend. And I am still fairly shy. And speak quietly. And look 16. Do you see where this is going? BIG FUN! Do you know much about the 12 steps? Well, let me tell ya' this up front: if you are not "in recovery" yourself, you have no validity and no business trying to help those who are. You are an outsider. You've never walked their walk, struggled with those issues, looked the demon of addiction in the eye. This protocol applies to not only the kids in the program, but the staff. I get it...
So there are only two ways to connect during the breaks between meetings: smoking or caffeinating. Since there is no way on God's green earth that I would smoke, I chose the road less traveled: a strong cup of dark, fudgy coffee. Now this is the el cheapo crap. It is not even Maxwell House, it is like, um, Maxwell Shack, or Maxwell Cardboard Box. And yes, it literally put hair on my chest. But you know what? Those little court-ordered punks listened when I facilitated group with a cup in my hand, and the staff laid off of me, and I only hated the unpaid internship HALF as much as I did initially!

Fast forward to 2003 when I'm employed as an in-home therapist for children on the brink of being shipped off to residential programs and juvenile detention. Starbucks is on the way to work and my boss introduces me to venti caramel macchiatos, which give me the energy to power through another job day after day that is a poor fit. Then my pants start to get tight and I cannot make the connection between this event and the extra 1,200 calories per day that I'm consuming. Finally resolve to stop drinking this sugar-laden confection and immediately drop 12 lbs within 2 months. Yowza. Can't let that happen again, better stick to regular old coffee.

Somewhere in this time frame my mother-in-law shows me an excerpt from a book on nutrition explaining that caffeine consumption can cause a myriad of problems, including decreased brain function. Or something like that. I don't exactly remember. Probably becuz drinking cafee mad me dum. (: I am mildly concerned but determine that what I lose in the smarts department, can be made up for in the extra energy department.

In 2007 I find out that I'm pregnant and have to cut out coffee cold turkey during the 1st trimester. I'm very proud to say that I managed to cut it out while maintaining a moderately positive outlook on life. (Translation: thank goodness that pregnancy also induced exhaustion or I might have done bodily harm to anyone within 10 feet of me.)
Thankfully I had an open-minded group of physicians following my pregnancy, and they eventually agreed that I could have an occasional cup during the 2nd and 3rd trimesters. Perhaps it is because they didn't feel it would cause any harm. Or perhaps they noticed the pleading and desperate look in my eye. Or maybe the fact that I beat one of them over the head with those lovely stirrups until they said I could have "my precious" back. Details...

I am fully aware that crunchy-granola-mommies everywhere are gasping with horror! The poor caffeinated fetus! Aaaaagh! Seriously folks I don't claim to be all-natural-wholesome mommy. I try to be a better mom every day than I was the day before, but even homey has her limits, ok? I DO, however, make my own all natural baby food...does that earn me points? We'll save that redeeming fact for another post!

Fast forward to the present day. I am working full time in a position that averages 65+ hours per week. I bring my daughter to work with me every, single, day since the day she turned 6 wks old. I was even busting out the breastaurant at work for a while there, pumping and dumping the poisoned caffeine boob milk! Dangit! Throw some vanilla in there and Starbucks might market it as a latte for $3.89! Presenting the new, all-natural (insert drumroll here.....) Boobaccino!!! Obviously it would be marketed primarily to males.

It is a blessing to bring her, yes, but honestly I get NOTHING DONE! The real work begins when I get home and sometimes hubby can watch her. That is, if hubby is not in his MBA class that is 2 nights per week. Not complaining, just further justifying the addiction!

I've really tried to hate Starbucks. They are "THE MAN", the "establishment", the one putting the little guys out of business. There is actually a cute little coffee shop right around the corner from my house and I gave it a shot, really I did! I had visions of the saying "Morning Missy! Do you want your usual drink while you sit on our inviting red leather couch with your cell phone on silent and peruse the local paper for fun family activities do to this weekend?" Unfortunately, not so much. Because their coffee tastes like heinie! As the rehab boys explained to mem if you were hooked on crack, a Xanax just wouldn't cut it.

Nope, I'll feed my addiction anonymously via drive-thru, while rushing into work, baby snoozing in the back, cell phone attached to my ear listening to coworkers complaining about each other and asking me to fix years of dysfunction that has nothing to do with me, save the fact I supervise them both! But there is some great coffee at the end of the line, dangit, and it's MINE! All MINE!

And I'm fully aware that a day of financial reckoning is coming soon...at which time I will have to resort to desperate lengths to raise money to fund the caffeine addiction. Dave Ramsey can bite me. But until that time....

Let me be happy in my slightly altered state, with my Starbucks grande coffee with 3 Splendas and nonfat milk in hand. There will definitely be a smile on my face, and that is sometimes difficult to come by in these hectic days!

While we're on the topic of the 12 steps, remind me to blog later about how everyone and their dog from my past has decided to hunt me down to include me in their Step #9. You cannot make this stuff up folks! Thank goodness I'm well caffeinated and can handle it!