Lois Lane was Heavily Caffeinated

      I have switched from my usual 12 measly ounces of coffee to consuming- well, it depends. If I brew it, than I tend to finish off the entire pot. If I decide on ingesting the stronger more potent brew of a coffee house, than I've been purchasing a 20 ounce cup. Not sure what name that is at Starbucks. And why is it that they seem to think their cups are better because they use words instead of units of measurement?
     If I was to rename Leftovers Night something exotic, like The Meal That was Formally Known as Last Night's Dinner- it's still leftovers.

   It's only been a little bit over a month since I started the Lois Lane gig and I have to say- it's a bit exhausting. And I'm only working part-part time. Well, getting paid for part-part time, I'm sure the hours are a bit longer. (With that being said, I already had a busy schedule with starting my own business, raising three kids including a baby, and volunteering as treasurer of Abu's PTO.)
    There is a certain thrill though, for seeing a person's name, in black ink on newsprint. It's such an old-fashioned and traditional method of recognition for a writer in this age of digital fonts and computer screens.
    I've also enjoyed interviewing people in my community- learning new things and of course, since I'm writing about food, pretending to partake in the fine dining experiences that I must live through in the words I write...and ignoring the growing thought in the back of my head that I must experience eating -Vanilla crepes stuffed with mascarpone cheese and fresh raspberries -drizzled with a black Chambord reduction. - I didn't even know what Chambord was but it all looked divine.
    I'm still thinking that Lois Lane would have snitched a crepe when the Chef left the room to bring out the other dishes.

   On another note though, I was reminded that having a job also means you might get chewed out- which is a lot different than your kids screaming at you- in that situation you have the upper hand. In the job world, you have to play it cool and act like you really have time to deal with the problem when you were about to make lunch for three hungry children that were close to starting a riot unless they received food. 

    I have to say I didn't cry when I was told that one of the Chefs I interviewed was quite upset at me for a miscommunication over the photography shoot. I've grown up since the last time I was in the official job world, but I was concerned that I had messed up while dealing with a extremely popular Chef in town and a well known business owner. 

    Ouch! Don't mess up a little bit, Christy- just a lot.

    As it turned out, the problem was not on my end of the communication. Whew! But we'll see if that Chef ever wants to interview with me again. 

   On the home front, Baby Blueberry is insisting on turning off the X-Box 360 whenever her sisters are playing Minecraft. 

    She's one stubborn kid, which will work wonders for her in life...not so much for Bean's and Abu's video game playing. 

     And I have found out that part of Gibson's thrill to chewing, isn't just chewing as indicated by the fact that he was quickly bored with the nondestructive toy we finally found him. Nope, he loves chewing things into small pieces. 

    I think he might be part goat. 

     He has also discovered a love of crayons. Eating, not coloring. 

   Which he passed onto Baby Blueberry and her diaper yesterday was a wild assortment of pastel green and red. 

     

    So Lois Lane meets Motherhood. I'm pretty sure no one will know that I was conducting a phone interview while nursing the Baby.

The Case of One Levitating Pup

    Physics. The concepts are really not difficult.  
   
   Modern physics state that: A body continually fed coffee will stay in motion.
   
     Or puppies who eat spilled coffee beans off my kitchen floor won't stop until a force greater than them stops them. Unfortunately, I haven't found that force. And now, Bean and Abu think it's hilarious to slip the puppy a few coffee beans and watch him zing around the room.
    And when I say ZING- I mean I'm not sure if his feet are even touching the ground.

     I love the concept of physics in Scooby Doo cartoons. Such as gravity doesn't work until you notice it, you can go splat and flat and be just fine and there are no such things as monsters, just normal people dressed in super techno, wildly expensive get ups.

   I'm starting to believe that puppy hood defies the laws of physics. How else can I explain a creature that never seems to run out of energy, can chew a toy in two seconds flat (I counted), and can manage to run around the neighborhood loose for only the time it takes me to put on my shoes yet comes back covered in glazed donut.
      I have to admit, the puppy smelled DELICIOUS! Mmm, glazed donut. But as Abu said, as she tried not to laugh, I hope there isn't a kid down the street crying because Gibson stole his donut.
    Oh, great. I might own a donut thief!!

   Actually, my scientific hypothesis based off no real facts except that he was covered in glaze from head to toe, was that he must have found an empty donut box and proceeded to roll in it. All I have to say...it's better than when he rolls in deer poop. Right before I have to leave...and I HAVE to give him a bath because he's not coming in my house with deer poop on him.
   No, the dog hasn't ate my homework but he has made us late because of deer poop.

   My brother who was interested in adopting a puppy has changed his mind. I think I have Gibson to blame. He loves the dog... but I'm sure it's all the lovely stories I have told that has made him rethink his plan to adopt a puppy. Too much work.

  Tell me about it.

  And the BABIES are getting clever. They really do work together to cause mayhem and chaos. And it's simply out of curiosity and wonderment. I truly think that's why they get along. They both share the same sense of wonder. How does this work? Can I eat it? Can I chew on it? Does it break when I perform experiments on it?

 First Case in point: Gibson grabbed a plastic hanger, there were two left on the chair where the older girls grabbed their coats and left for school. He starts chewing on it and TEARING it apart while I'm stuck on the phone. Baby Blueberry notices how much he likes to chew on the hanger and goes over and grabs the second one and hands it to him. ENCOURAGING the mutt!!! At that point, I told the person I had a Baby emergency and I HAD to go! I cleaned up the broken hanger and saved the second one from a similar fate.
   But that didn't stop the BABIES- no- they proceeded to search the room for something else to chew on. And when Blueberry found some paper she immediately hands it to Gibson.

   He loves this Baby. She understands him. Everyone else just yells at him for chewing.

    Second case in point: Gibson loves the trash can.

   - Note to self: Need to buy new trash can with lid. -

     Blueberry noticed how he loves to steal things out of there when I turn my back.

   Yes, the puppy waits until I'm not looking.
   
    So she waits until I turn away and she grabs the potato peels I just tossed in there and starts taking them out and handing them to the puppy.
   
    Blueberry! Out of the trash. So gross.

   Gibson! What have you taught my Baby?


  Perhaps they can communicate because he's telekinetic.

  He can levitate and speak with his mind. 

  I didn't adopt a puppy.

  I adopted a super hero with special powers. 

 
  

A Caffeinated Baby in the Land of No Sleep

    I can easily forgive Baby Blueberry for not reading the numerous studies on all the baby websites that say a warm caffeinated breast milk latte isn't going to keep her up at night. After all she can't read yet, so she's not aware of the facts that say she can't consume enough caffeine via my breast milk to get a buzz.
    She should be able to enjoy coffee before bed and expect a nice, restful night of sleep, right? Supposedly, the rumor is, that not enough caffeine enters my breast milk to effect Baby Blueberry, so drink a few cups. After all, I'm a new Mom and up all night long, so I'm going to need the coffee in the morning to survive.

    Alright researchers, this is an easy one. We're going to play a game. Have a dozen Moms drink a few grande latte Starbucks coffee drinks in the afternoon and then nurse their babies before bed. We'll put you in charge of the night time care of caffeinated babies and see if your research shows a little bit more insight.
     Because I have problems with research that report:  Moms who heavily drink caffeinated beverages report frequent night time wakings of their little babies. But than you super smart researchers say something stupid like, 'this wasn't statistically significant. So we can't say if the caffeine was the culprit.'
    Are the coffee shops funding your research?

    I love the one research guy who said, 'the caffeine is just disturbing Mom's sleep patterns, that's why she's waking up so many times at night, it's not disturbing the infant.'
     Really? The coffee is waking me up? Does the coffee cry in the middle of the night until I'm dragged from the little bit of REM sleep I have managed to find in the last two weeks and demand to be fed? Does the coffee stay up, bouncing and jumping and grinning because they're wired?
   Does the coffee wake up every hour with a sad scrunched up face and needs to be cuddled? (That or she's after more caffeine and it's a ploy.)

   In my twenties, when I had Bean and Abu, I wasn't a coffee drinker. So I didn't worry about the effects of caffeine. But this time; in my thirties and with more demands on me; I have fallen in love with a cup (or four cups) in the morning.
   When I was put on modified bed rest with Baby Blueberry, I cut out the coffee. I know that caffeine did not tear my placenta but in my worried, panicked state of mind; I decided I better just stay away from it.
   After her birth, I decided I could follow the advice of doctors and have a cup or two of coffee in the mornings. Since I was so extremely tired most mornings from the demands of my newborn; this was considered a necessity. Almost more important than a shower, but not quite.

      (Little Baby you can play on the bathroom floor and enjoy the white noise of the shower running while I remember what it feels like to have clean hair. )

    The problem though, is that I drink my coffee very slowly. Hero Hottie will drink his in about half an hour and start eyeing my cup if I don't clearly claim my territory.
    
     (To set the scene:We did have a coffee pot. Saved us money and trips to the coffee shop. Then one sad morning, while Hero Hottie was cleaning it; it broke leaving us to make coffee with hot water and a strainer. This arduous method lasted one cup before we decided to buy another pot. Which is actually a funny story and I'll have to share it later this week...But in the mean time we have been stalking the coffee shop in search of heavy doses of caffeine.)
    
      After finishing his  20 ounce coffee, he picks up my measly 12 ounce cup and shakes it.
      "You still have half a cup left. You going to finish it?" He asks, quite casually as if he doesn't care either way. But he's licking his lips and he has that gleam in his eye.
        "Hey, you had your coffee. Leave mine alone." I say, as I grip the coffee shop cup in both hands, baring my teeth and ready to fight.
         He holds up his hands, "Hey, I was just asking. Since you're not done yet."
         I glare at him and continue sipping on my coffee as he he makes another run to the coffee shop.

         And this is where the trouble starts. Right on into the afternoon I'm still sipping on my coffee. I try to finish it earlier but I can't gulp coffee. By evening, just after I have the children in bed and the baby finally to sleep; I quickly crawl into bed and an hour later I'm awoken by small baby wanted to play or practice her crawling.
        Nurse her, convince her it's bedtime and try to sleep.
        Wham. An hour later. She's awake again. Happy and content but AWAKE.
        Of course, it doesn't help that I'm feeding her more coffee with each feeding.
   
        It's vicious cycle. I drink coffee, albeit not even that much; but I drink it too late into the day. By the time it must reach her milk; it's time for bed. Except now, that little bit of caffeine doesn't seem so statistically insignificant because neither one of us get much sleep that night.
        And in the morning that coffee shop looks like an oasis in the desert. But I must resist; it's only a mirage. Coffee will keep small child up, thereby keeping Mom up; thereby causing Mom to appear to be a zombie, stumbling and muttering around the house without any coffee to make her human again.

     Moral of the story: No matter how happily hyper Baby Blueberry gets after her caffeinated breast milk lattes; she does not need it.

    Now I just have to convince Blueberry's Mom that tired, exhausted Mom doesn't need coffee either. Wish me luck. :-)

Coffee Shop Hazards that Your Momma Never Warned You About...

      I should invest in a coffee pot, not only would it save me time and money, (how much do they mark up that coffee anyway?) I could save myself quite a bit of embarrassment.
      You have to understand, I'm a writer, the words you read I've had a chance to edit, finding just the right word to convey my intentions. Talking doesn't work so well for me. It's not that I'm not a chatter box, ask anyone that knows me, there's a problem if I'm not filling the silence but I don't always have a chance to edit the words before they're flying around, causing me embarrassment.
      Like at the coffee shop this month. And these times the 'oh-no' feeling was even worse than the time I wrote Corner Panty instead of Corner Pantry on my check while paying for gas. The clerk thought it was so hilarious, she was sharing the story with all her other customers, including hero hottie, who had to tell me, with a huge grin, how every one was getting a chuckle over my misspelling.
      The first coffee shop incident happened a couple of weeks ago. I ordered my regular size for really tired days, a 16 ounce coffee. Except my mind must have been on snooze still because I ordered a 16 inch coffee. Now, I didn't think anything of it, until hero hottie started chuckling beside me and muttering something about 16 inches. I love the guy, but he's a guy and sixteen inches apparently is a dirty joke. I'm sure I don't have to explain in further detail the jokes that were tossed back and forth at my expense between hero hottie and the guy taking the order. My cheeks were blazing and I could have kicked hero hottie in the shin for laughing in the first place.
       And the second incident probably never would have happened had hero hottie not teased me about my 16 inch coffee order but he did and yesterday when we went in the coffee shop to order a very innocent cup of coffee, I was faced with the guy from last time and my mind started recalling the last time I ordered from him and all the times hero hottie had teased me about it. And instead of asking for a 16 ounce coffee, I was so busy hoping the guy didn't remember the last time I had ordered coffee, I asked for...
      "Sixteen inch-ounce coffee." I asked, cringing as I realized that he had indeed heard the inches and completely remembered me from last time. The guy chuckled and proceeded with another bunch of dirty jokes.
      I would have teleported if that was real or if I had been really bold I would have commented on their wishful thinking and the impracticability of such a thing as 16 inch 'coffee'. Instead, I took my coffee and decided I might have to find another place to embarrass myself at. Like at home. Or on my blog.
     And contrary to what hero hottie says, even though a great deal of what I write is 'icky-icky' as my children call it, my mind is not in the gutter. His is. Because I'm not the one who took a word of measurement and turned it into a joke about guy's you know what.
      In the meantime, I think it might be a while before I stop thinking about anatomy while drinking coffee.