Seriously.  The Got Milk? campaign is tired and abused.  But dang, it still packs a punch.  I can’t help but envision the Aaron Burr expert and his mouth full of sticky peanut butter.  He’s been waiting all his life for the radio announcer to call with the easy, million-dollar history question.  Ouch.  I’m glad I haven’t reached the depths of peanut-butter mouth but I can certainly relate.  I’m a coffee drinker and if you are one too, you know why there is still life in Got Milk?

My husband laughs at my coffee recipe.  “That’s not coffee.  That’s a milkshake.”  Just because I don’t like motor oil with a splash of “white gold” does not mean I drink milkshakes in the morning.  It does mean however, I need a well-stocked, refrigerator packed with sweet, sweet milk.  Enough so mamma gets her coffee likes she likes, THEN the rest of the family can get their bowl of cereal or cup of “motor oil” pinged with a few cloudy drops and dribbles.

My Supply. I wasn’t Kidding.

At our house, we are currently going through about a carton a day.  We switched to organic, lactose-free milk; priced like gold.  I’m thrilled my “milkshakes” are not made with soy milk and Coffeemate anymore.  (I turned a blind-eye to the chemical reaction brewing in my system.  I couldn’t sacrifice my steamy, morning mug.)  My entire family now drinks the same milk, YAY!  No more, 2% only for TJ; whole milk for Dad—coffee splash; Soy Milk for Mom and Alex.  However, it’s free-rein in the lactose-free milk domain so we have way more GOT MILK moments, of which it seems I am always the victim.

My most recent episode took place just a week ago.  Last I checked, we had a good full carton on a Thursday at noon.  I knew restocking was on my agenda for Friday, after school drop-off and AFTER my morning coffee or two.  A rainstorm hit Thursday afternoon and it didn’t occur to me the knee-jerk reaction my boys have when the weather turns.  Hot Chocolate.  I was vaguely aware of the boys grating Ibarra Mexican Chocolate into the pot of warming milk.  “How cute!  They remembered back to preschool days.  And they are going gourmet, not just Hershey’s syrup,” I thought.  On rainy days we used to make hot chocolate and popcorn.  We’d sip and munch while watching a Disney DVD.  I didn’t consider the impact of this trip down memory lane.

MMMMM!

Big Boys drink A LOT more hot chocolate than little boys, especially when left to their own cooking and portion control.  My unfortunate moment was building, unbeknownst to me.

I rise early Friday, 5:30 AM to hit the gym.  (I’m full of fun habits.)  My knee is kind of achy so I pop an Advil with a glass of milk, a very small glass of milk.  AHHHHH!  This can’t be!  How am I going to meet all my needs by 7:05 AM?  DARN!  I should have checked before I went to bed.  But that solid red carton looked so full in my head.  It was still in the refrigerator; it must be full.

I start setting up my bike for spin class when my spin buddy arrives.  I spill out my whoas, “I can’t stay for the whole class.”  “Oh, ya gotta get the kids to school.  I know that one.”  I respond back, “More than that.  We are out of MILK.”  “Oh no! You are sooo headed for the store after class!”

I confess the milk is for my coffee, not the guys.  She was already there.  “Oh of course!  I have a container I mark ‘MOM’ and hide it in the back of the fridge.  I CANNOT be without!” I am relieved someone else is living my life of selfishness and angst.  I’m mad I will miss 10 minutes of calorie burning exercise, but if a coffee/milk? junkie needs her fix, it’s a sacrifice worth taking.  Besides, Cheerios taste better with milk than orange juice.  I think the guys will be happier too.

Now every night, before it’s too late for a grocery run, I admit, I do a milk-shake.  I jiggle the cartons in the fridge to make sure there is enough milk to turn my black coffee taupe-colored, enough to get me through my morning “milkshake.”

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