Weekend mornings are the best. My husband - without fail - gives it to me wherever I might happen to be, and just the way I like it. Any room in the house is fair game. Sometimes he even gives it to me outside.
I'm talking about coffee, of course.
This morning I was in full on mom-martyr mode. You know the mindspace - if I don't do it it doesn't get done. This was to be the first morning since I've been home that I'd be able to sleep past 6 and - in fairness - that did happen. It was 6:15 when the "Mom, I need"s started.
Before my husband rolled out of bed I'd gotten up and dressed, gone to the grocery store, juiced 4 pounds of oranges and had the juice chilling, did a load of laundry, and sewed elastic in my daughter's leg warmers.
But then he brought me my coffee.
Just the way I like it.
And I relaxed.
I stopped huffing and puffing and martyring about and sat down and sipped my coffee.
Because that's the way I like it.
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