Seeking that First Sip Feeling

Monday began the fourth week of quarantine.  And, at minimum, a month to go.

I needed a sense of normalcy.  I craved that semblance of my "before" life -- when I was carefree to pick up a Starbucks and run errands.

I decided either Sunday night or Monday morning -- the time between night and day blurs a bit with an infant, especially during quarantine where the days don't matter -- that I was in need of a Starbucks treat.

Starbucks has always been a treat.  On Friday mornings after a long week of teaching.  After sleepless nights with a newborn who is up every hour.  During conference week when exhaustion wears on every part of my being.  This simple upgrade to my morning coffee somehow rewards and empowers me to take on more.

When I get it in my mind that I want one, it's hard to convince myself otherwise.  And, let's be honest, that's true about most things I want.

I got up with the baby at 5 a.m. already planning my treat.  I learned a week or so ago that there was only one Starbucks open on the west side, which means longer travel time and longer lines (and no mobile ordering).  I knew all of this.  And I knew I had a 9 a.m. Zoom meeting.  I had it all mapped out in my head.

But, there is one variable that is unpredictable: my family.

Mila didn't wake until after 7:30 a.m., which means neither did Casey (if he gets up with Tessa in the night, I have no problem with him sleeping in).

Now, I should confess.  I am known for having definitive plans in my head, not sharing said plans with the people they impact (like my husband), and then being disappointed those plans didn't work.  I'm working on it.  Knowing this, I shared my intentions for a Starbucks rendevous with Casey when he woke up.  While I knew what this means, he didn't factor in all the things I do.  I think moms are only capable of that level of depth in planning, foreseeing all the factors it will take to accomplish a task.

By 8:20 a.m., I've got both girls downstairs in the middle of their morning routines, well, the Covid-19 version of their morning routines.   My anxiety is building as I watch the clock tick.  Time is shrinking for my coffee window.

At 8:30 a.m., I'm out the door in and in the car.

I know I don't have enough time.

BUT!  If the stars align absolutely perfectly, this will work.  I turn on a podcast a friend sent me of two amazing authors, Glennon Dolye and Brene Brown, and settle in.  I'm out of my house for the first time in days, but I can't enjoy it.  It's not a relaxing drive.  I lean forward in my seat thinking that will help the car go faster.  Every 30 seconds, I blink over at the clock doing the travel math: how long will it take to get home, how long will it take to get coffee,  how long the line can be and still wait for it.  As I near Starbucks, the cars are wrapped around the building.  I pull a U-turn and head home.

Immediately, I'm pissed.  At Casey, first, for not getting up early or around faster.  If only he would move at my speed, this would solve so many problems.  He takes his time and doesn't realize what else is going on.  Clearly, I was looking for someone else to blame.  (They say married couples have the same one or two fights for their entire marriage.  This is definitely one of ours.)

Then I stop and sit with that anger -- something Glennon Dolye mentioned in her latest book, Untamed.  As I sit with it, I realize it's not anger at all.  It's sadness.  When this hits me, I start tearing up.

Anger is far easier to deal with than sadness. 

The grief of social distancing and isolating washes over me.  It is just too much.  And being alone for the first time in weeks made me realize it.  I couldn't even deal with it all in that moment.  It is something I will return to again.

But, Tuesday was a new day.  And I had a new plan.

When Mila woke up, I put her in our bed with Tessa and Casey.  I left all three of them to snuggle in, watch shows, and wake up.

I head out the door with plenty of time to enjoy my podcast and savor that first sip feeling.  And I made it back with time to spare before my next 9 a.m. Zoom meeting.