Wednesday, February 12, 2014

No use crying over spilled coffee

My morning cup of coffee (well, let's be honest, it's more like 2-3 cups) is a ritual that is most sacred. Ever since Julep's wonderful arrival, I've become increasingly reliant upon it. Having a little one has caused me to have to alter my routine, slightly... opting for a cup "brewed" in my Keurig rather than taking the time to make a superior version in my French Press. But this was a surprisingly welcome sacrifice, shaving at least 4 minutes off of the time it takes to go from grounds to deliciousness, at the same time allowing me to attend to my daughter's needs in the morning above my own.
I say all that to say that while my coffee routine isn't exactly the same since Julep, it's a small thing that I'm still able to enjoy consistently every morning, whether she is awake or not.
That is, until this morning. Sitting at my computer, working, with Julep on my knee. With my coffee inches away on the desk. You see where this is going, right?
My precious little monster, who is growing more and more coordinated by the day, reached for the lip of my mug, and with one swift motion, dumped the whole thing onto both of us (and my still sticky keyboard).
Out of surprise more than anything (and some frustration, too), I yelled "Julep!" and a big bad word. Well, two words. The really bad ones that you DO NOT say.
Over coffee!
Whyyyy did I do that?! It takes literally a minute and a half to make a new cup. I had Ju Ju and myself... and the floor and everything else... cleaned up in just a matter of minutes, and the whole thing was over and fixed.
Except the sinking feeling that lingered within me over my absurd reaction.
Is this how I'm going to react to her when she does things she's not supposed to? What if she had been old enough to understand my words? How hurtful would that have been?
This morning, I am so thankful that God designed children the way He did... that we, as parents, have time to work on these quirks before they are old enough to know the weight of our words when we overreact.
Father, forgive me for taking your name in vain. Thank you for who you are in my life. Thank you for your grace.

And just like that, Julep is back on my lap at the computer as I write this, Wearing a new outfit, chewing on her Sophie giraffe, and all is well.


  1. Your words inspire me to be a better dad! Julep is going understand the grace and love of Jesus because of you. Thanks for being human, so I don't feel alone when I screw up!

  2. This is a beautiful story of grace. What a beautiful mother you are! Not perfect but a great example of grace and forgiveness! You inspire me!


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