Coffee and Motherhood

There are some women who must instinctively know that they are not going to make it as mothers. I am guessing that they just put it off until they finally bend to peer pressure or mother in law pressure or whatever. Knowing that this is not going to work out well and hoping to get it all over as quickly as possible they drop three sprogs in quick succession and then fall into a morass of failure, self pity and hopelessness. These sad ladies then spend the next eighteen years losing control of their snots and their minds until the snots reach 18 and go to college where they are someone else’s problem or until they reach 18 and go to jail where they are someone else’s problem. So the scene is set, it is 4:00 Monday afternoon and enter stage left Mrs Menorrhagia and her three little snots.
I just knew that this was going to be a horrid experience. She was completely washed out and the kids, who were 3, 4 and 5 were in absolute command. She asked them what they wanted to eat and they wiped their foul trotters all over my display cabinet before screaming out their orders. Of course they ordered the stickiest of stickies and demonstrated how they derived nourishment by smearing food over their faces and soaking it in through the epidermis. Mrs. Menorrhagia, presumably by way of an apology, proffered the fact that snot one had just been enrolled in the local catholic school but the others were too little. Well if catholic schools in the US are the same as they are in the UK that should teach them all a valuable lesson. There is a delicious irony in being educated by the Little Sisters of Mercy who spend the next eight years beating the living crap out of you with rulers and strops. I imagine them now roasting in Hades whilst sucking on Beelzebub’s cloven hooves but I digress. Snot one then drops its glass of milk everywhere and I really thought that Mrs. Menorrhagia was going to cry so with a heavy heart and a cheery smile I amble over to clean up the mess. The milk dropper then looks at me and says “Hey Coffee Bitch, why are you so fat?”. Mrs. Menorrhagia looks at me with her gray complexion and wan smile and says, “They are just practicing their first amendment”. “That’s OK” I reply, “ I can totally respect that, so little girl the reason that I am so fat is that every time I hump your Mommy she gives me a cookie”. How’s that for the first amendment, now let me show you my second amendment you little snot. As you might imagine that put a cap on an otherwise fine afternoon. Mrs. Menorrhagia gathered her possessions and her snots and swept out totally failing to realize that it is customary, nay obligatory, to tip me. Cleaning up afterwards I discovered a huge amount of fecal material ground into the doormat. WTF! Subsequent investigation revealed that it didn’t taste of faeces but rather of chocolate. I assume that one of the snots dropped one of the bosses delicious chocolate fudge muffins and in the panic to get out without leaving a tip, the herd trampled it asunder. Every day I get a little more pro choice.