Coffee and me

Janet Stone - 20 Sep 19

Coffee and me were never that close, now coffee is one of my closest allies. The ritual and routine of my daily coffee an emotional crutch and daily high. A mere six years ago I would have one instant coffee when I arrived at work, then a barista coffee on a Saturday morning when catching up with friends and maybe one on a Sunday, maybe not. Maybe I would skip coffee all together on a Sunday! Who needs coffee when you get up at 11am.

These days I have one barista made coffee everyday, and occasionally even two. I love having you placed in front of me coffee – I always admire your beauty – adorned with swirling milky patterns, your layers of beige hues delicately rolling through to soft, white foam.  The cold and hard feel of the cup as I raise you to my lips for the first sip of your velvety, comforting liquid. And relax. Thank you coffee –  giver of energy.

This change in relationship between coffee and me is rooted deep in my first maternity leave. When my daughter was around 4-6 months old. The days  were blurring into each other, a particularly grizzly faze, my body was exhausted and my mind empty. The baby talk and baby benchmarking at baby activities, naps, food, playtime – this wasn’t the holiday I thought it was going to be. My life went slowly and obliviously from being all about me to being 5% about me like sand through an hourglass. I dug my heals in and made sure this was something I had everyday just for a few minutes or, if I was lucky, 20, for myself. Conveniently this coincided with the opening of a great little coffee shop in our neighbourhood that opened at 8am.

Frequently these moments were totally unenjoyable. Taking a grumpy baby via the coffee shop, extending the route to our destination therefore heightening the risk of meltdowns. Stopping with a sleeping baby, stressed and on edge waiting for them to wake as the barista bangs the coffee press against the machine – why do they do that? Or a group bursts out laughing across the cafe – bastards. One time both the new born and my 3 year old fell asleep in the car so I hot footed it to Costa Coffee and parked outside, I queued with baited breath hoping they wouldn’t wake (I had to turn the engine off – I hadn’t thought this through) eyes firmly fixed on the car for any flickers of movement and drove back as the baby stirred shoving a millionaires short bread into my mouth with one hand, barely tasting it. Other times arriving at the coffee shop would be light at the end of the tunnel on a grey afternoon after taking 30 minutes to walk the 4 minute walk to the local coffee shop looking at cats, diggers, splashing in puddles,  supervising step climbing or flower smelling.

Sometimes getting the children out of coats and hats and trying to contain them long enough for coffee and cake to arrive was hardly worth it. Sometimes I felt like I’d nailed it, colouring with the toddler whilst  feeding the baby and arriving home having killed 1.5 hours!

During these coffee shop trips I would always look in ore and, at times, resentment at the professionals working in blissful solitude on their laptops. When I returned to work after my second maternity leave I would work from home one day a week. After dropping the children at nursery I would head to my favourite coffee shop to join them with my laptop – it was marvellous! At the weekends I might ride my bike around and grab a coffee. On the days at the office I would get a coffee just around the corner and relish the moments standing in the queue – on my own – with adults – ordering their coffees in such a civilised fashion.

This is where it began: coffee time = me time.

Coffee and me will be close forever now. Thank you coffee –  for the moments of freedom, enjoyment and, of course, the energy you give me.

Janet Stone

Writer, baker, body scrub maker. Part time corporate copywriter. Wannabe freelance writer. Blog writer, read mostly by my mum.

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