by: Emma Aguirre
January 14, 2011
Week 12
It’s funny how you let go of things that meant so much to you so quickly when a baby is on the scene. I love coffee. I drink more of it than I probably should, although I didn’t drink any during my pregnancy for fear of having a hyper child. I especially love Starbucks, a venti skinny hazelnut (sometimes caramel) latte simply rocks my world. When I was working, I was nearly on first name terms with the barista at my local Starbucks, and at my very first job here in Houston, in the Allen Center, the barista at Seattle’s Best would have my drink ready as soon as he saw me in line in the morning.
I had planned to grab my favorite drink (now a “treat”!) when we were driving to a new playgroup story time at the library this morning. About half way into the 20-minute drive, and SO close to Starbucks, my daughter began to scream. I’m pretty good at calming her in the car; I’ll turn up the music real loud, avoid traffic lights so the car doesn’t actually stop, I sing or I talk to her, but today, she was having none of it. I knew she was hungry and I had fully intended to feed her at the library. All of a sudden, my focus shifted to what she needed and what I needed to do to make that happen. I was hungry too, but it went right out of my head. My needs are second, sometimes third these days. All I could hear was my daughter crying and I really wished I could glide over the top of the vehicles to get to the library faster. I’ve trained myself to stay calm in the car when she cries. I’ve learned it doesn’t do anyone any good to panic while driving. But eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore; it was heartbreaking and I pulled over and gave her a pacifier. She was calm, content and held on just a few more minutes until we were at the library.
Story time came and went and she ate all the way through. As we were leaving, I suddenly remembered how much I wanted coffee. But it just didn’t matter anymore and I just didn’t care about stupid coffee. She was so happy and all I wanted to do was go home and get out of the cold and snuggle with her. None of it really seems to matter anymore. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
