Coffee, how do I love you . . . . let me count the ways!

By far, connecting with my friends is what keeps me from the bottle or the dryer (placing Curran in it, that is).  I always feel more sane, more normal, after talking to one of the girls.  If I go more than a day without at least chatting with someone on the phone I start to feel like the savior has returned and (being an atheist/agnostic, depending on the day) I gambled wrong and was left alone on the planet.  My own thoughts start to make me feel crazy, and they all start to take on a slight negative hue.  The more time that passes, the more negative I get.  Pretty soon I am convinced that I will never, ever again get more than 3 hours of consecutive sleep, my child will nurse until he is 10, I will never get back into midwifery because all of my children are certainly going to be high-needs, and that secretly everyone in my life can't stand my personality.  In fact, even my own kid doesn't like me very much . . . . he's just forced to be nice to me because without me he would starve.  

But, then I talk to someone, commiserate over sore nipples and snotty little noses, and I feel so much better.  In lieu of this connection, I have resorted to cups and cups of coffee.  When it is quiet and my friends are otherwise engaged with their little ones, I brew a pot of that heavenly stuff and soon I start to feel like maybe I'll be productive today.  Like maybe I'll read up on some midwifery stuff, maybe even work out.   I would certainly shrivel up and die without my friends and my coffee.  I'd like to think (and I try to act) all self-sufficient and stuff, but really I'm not.  I cold be if I HAD to be, but really, I don't WANT to be.  My friends and my caffeine are sanity.