Hitting the Hard Stuff


Coffee. That’s coffee in that there cup. I don’t suppose many of you find that unusual, but it’s a little strange to find in my mug, because I’ve never really been a big fan of coffee. I’m usually more of a hot tea kind of girl, but a couple of weeks ago I graduated to the big stuff.

Of course, I have to ask my son to make it for me because I’ve never quite perfected the art of making the perfect cup of coffee. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a proper copper coffee pot. (And if that reference flew right by you, your life has been missing Trout Fishing in America and I feel very sad for you and yours. And by the way, if you watch the video, if you can suffer through the first few seconds of filming like a drunk man walking, the cameraman finally stands still.)

Anyway, I can make a creme brulee that will make you weep for the years you existed without having known its greatness but my coffee is either black water or tar. I know. I don’t understand it myself. It irks Susan and leads to texts like these:


(Don’t be jealous of my amazing photo editing skills that allows me to erase our last names. I know, you didn’t even know I’d edited.)

So why have I switched to java? Well, I’ve been the one and only grown up in my house for the last eleven days. Kelly has to travel a good bit with this job. I’m not complaining because two weeks or so at a time is a lot easier to handle than six months or a year at a time, so we are grateful. Still, I miss him when he’s not here. Not only because he’s hot (although he is) and a good snuggler (yep, he is) and I enjoy hanging out with him (I always have!), but because he’s the best tag-team-life-handler in the world.

Besides, as everyone who is married to someone who has to travel can testify, stuff just has a way of falling apart the minute Kelly leaves town.

Which is probably why my oldest was sick from the morning his dad left until the end of last week.

And why we had no electricity in the downstairs bathrooms and bedrooms from Wednesday night until about 6 p.m. Monday night.

And why our credit card numbers were stolen from a merchant, causing Capital One to shut down our card, creating a rather embarrassing situation at the Marine Corps Base post office. (I’m not the primary card holder so they’d been calling Kelly and since he’s been on a ship in the middle of the ocean somewhere, he hasn’t been getting his calls.)

Those were just a few of the highlights. I won’t bore you with the rest. But suffice it to say, all of these happenings have led me to understand that at least for some mornings, coffee can be my friend.

But despite the fact that we miss our guy and I’m hitting the hard stuff, the kids and I have had some fun along the way. They have grown into these funny people who keep me laughing.

Sometimes they misunderstand song lyrics, which you know I find so hysterical that I’ve devoted no less than one, two, three, four blog posts to times when people misunderstand what other people are saying or singing. One of my people misunderstood the lyrics to fun.’s song  “We Are Young.” What they actually sing is, “Tonight, we are young. So let’s set the world on fire. We can burn brighter than the sun.” What my son heard was, “Tonight, we are yum.   So let’s set the wood on fire;  make it burn brighter venison.”

Sometimes they misunderstand their mother. After I told them repeatedly to get their stuff out of the living room, one of my children, in an effort to support and help me told the other two, “You heard her! Clean up the commoner areas!” I think I called them “the common areas,” babe. We don’t live in Downton Abbey.

Sometimes they rewrite the lyrics to songs. I may be raising the next Al Yankovic, which must be every mother’s dream. Right now they’re working on their own version of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.” They’ve changed “It’s hard to look right at you baby,” to “It’s hard to look right at YOUR baby!” which reminds me of the “Ugly Baby” Seinfeld episode.

Anyway, we’ve survived, but all the same, for so many reasons, I am more than willing to chug a big mug of coffee at o’dark thirty tomorrow morning in order to drive to the airport to pick up my main man who is FINALLY coming home!


Maybe we’ll stop at Starbucks on the way!


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7 responses to “Hitting the Hard Stuff

  1. nwhannas

    Commoner areas. Snort. Love ya. Glad you made it thru all that w/just coffee. 11 days is long. When Doug went to China, I found that seven days was pretty much our magical number. Anything more than that, and it felts as if the roof would fall in. By the evening of the ninth day, I often felt like a trapped animal, who had to gnaw her way out of the steel leg trap. So far though, by Gods grace, my limbs are intact.

  2. Linda

    Oh Amy, I hear you baby. Have been in your position and how and why the gremlins attack the moment your man exits the domicile I still do not know. Is it any comfort to know that it is a long standing tradition? When my Dad was TDY my sibs and myself turned into uh, shall we say, mischeif makers and the house elves would join in and turn everything upside down. Then when I was the young A.F wife and mother and Mr. Eddie was gone fully half of the time, my angels grew horns and the Whole Wide World conspired against me! They say ‘This is not your Daddy’s A.F.’ (Dodge, Lincoln, Mercury, whatever) and that may be true but I can tell from your post, and my other darling Amy, that it is still ‘your Mother’s A.F’.!!! Hang in there girl, whatever doesn’t make you crazy makes you stronger. You can schedule that well deserved trip to the ‘Shady Rest Home for Bewildered Moms’ after Anna and Ben graduate from College. So many of your friends will be there for detox and debriefing that it will feel like a girls fortnight outI may have missed the post but have you gotten your dog back yet?

    • whimzie

      Ms. Linda, you are just too funny!

      No, our fur baby is still living with my mom. We’re still trying to decide what would be best for him and for us. Easily one of the few hard things about living in Hawaii.

  3. I would say you deserve several trips to Starbucks…and then go set that venison on fire.

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