Suburban Mommy Crack

Hello, my name is Mrs. and I have an addiction! sarcastically ran through my mind as I waited for my endorphins to be set on fire as soon as I could ingest this magical potion.

I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, plug in the www's and attempt to find a 24 hour place to feed the craving beast within myself.

Legs jittery as I waited my turn, sweat pouring down my face just in case the credit wasn't good - I didn't owe them anything, did I - and cash was hard to come by these days and if I paid with a joint account card, my hubby was sure to know what I had put into my body that day. And that could be grounds for a major battle. I'd just rather get the goodness in my mouth, enjoy it, and get on with my day in peace.

"Good Morning, Mrs! Got the usual ready!" squealed the barista as she took what may be the last treat purchase on my card from Christmas from my outstretched hand.

Holding the nectar of the Gods in her hand, right in front of me but just out of my reach, Barista peaked into the backseat and said, "Full crowd this morning!" and set the delicious goodness out of my reach and went back to the bowels of the shop.

Unstrapping my seat belt, opening the car door, and using my Go Go Gadget arms could not connect me to the liquid gold, so I settled into the driver's side seat and prayed for patience.

Barista brought three puppy latte's to the window and passed them to the animals in the back - two toddlers, and a dog who all dive into a dixie cup full of whipped cream with avengence. Then it was my turn.

With that thick green straw through my parched lips I slurped up a Venti Black Iced Tea no Sweet before I pulled out of the parking lot. My shoulders dropped, tension left the minivan, and I smiled and said, "What are we up to today?" to my charges in the back, smile on my face.

Seriously, this is suburban Mommy Crack. One hit and life is good.