Bring Back My Pumpkin Coffee


The Dunkin Donuts down the street from me no longer has Pumpkin Spice Swirl Coffee. I found this out the hard way when I went through the drive-thru to get me some of that magical elixir (and one for my friend, Jen) and they told me that they no longer had it. The conversation went something like this:

Me (a smile in my voice): I’ll have a medium hot pumpkin swirl coffee.

Them: We no longer have pumpkin swirl.

Me (confusion in my voice): Like, you’re out of it today?

Them: No, we no longer have it.

Me (desperation creeping into my voice): Like, I should come back tomorrow if I want it?

Them: No, we are done for the season.

Me (shock heavy in my words): You mean done for the WEEK?

Them: No. The season.

Me (voice heavy with unshed tears): The ENTIRE season? Like, that’s it?

Them: Yes

Me (OMG, am I crying?): It’s over?

Them: Yes. It’s over. There is no more this season.

WHAAATTT?! What are they talking about “done for the season”? What season? The Winter season? Is that the season to which they are referring? Because last time I checked we are thick in the middle of “the season.” I wait all year for the Pumpkin Spice Swirl Season. ALL YEAR. I start getting it in my iced coffee in September when it is certainly far too hot out to be drinking a hot coffee (but if they only offered it in hot coffee then I would order a hot coffee because THAT is how much I love it. I would burn my tongue and scorch my insides voluntarily for that sweet. sweet coffee.) Who decided that January ends “the season”? It’s the dead of Winter. The days are still short. It’s still dark out at 5:00.  It’s freezing! Well, maybe it is not freezing THIS year, but it was freezing last year. And it will probably be freezing next year. This year is a fluke. A one off. An unseasonably warm Winter. But so what? So my entire coffee drinking experience has to be ruined? What about February? The shortest yet possibly coldest month of the year? What am I supposed to drink then? REGULAR coffee? Like I’m some sort of animal? As if I’m so desperate for a warm beverage that I will drink virtually ANYTHING?! I don’t think so. Regular coffee can kiss my ass.

The real kicker is that I decided long ago that beverages do not count towards my daily calorie intake. Basically I could put down two Pumpkin Swirls a day and I would bat nary an eye. NARY AN EYE I TELL YOU!

If there is no Pumpkin Spice Swirl then there is no Pumpkin Spice Swirl. Fine. I’m sure with some heavy duty counseling I will eventually get over it. But next year I’m going to arrange a meeting with my Dunkin Donuts friends and see if we can’t work out some sort of Pumpkin Spice Swirl arrangement.

Until then I will be slowly working through the five stages of grief (I am currently in the anger phase.)

And drinking freaking tea.

mad face


Well we’re driving in the car…


Did I ever tell you about the time I was in 6th grade and I wanted to get my hair cut short? I wanted it to look like Janet’s from Three’s Company. Janet. From Three’s Company. So I actually hand drew a picture of Janet and her pin straight, choppy, super short hair and brought it into the hairdresser. She was horrified (I couldn’t understand why.) She tried desperately to explain to me that I had curly hair and Janet had straight hair. The cut would look totally different on me. Totally. (She was nice enough not to get into the fact that out of all the tv stars to look like, why on earth had I picked JANET??) But I was insistent. Do it. Cut it. Make it choppy. I just knew that if she cut it correctly I would look SO cute! She knew that no matter how she cut it, I was going to look horrendous. But I insisted, so she did it. About three seconds after she was done cutting and styling my hair I ran out of the salon screaming and crying. I didn’t look like Janet. Not even a little. I looked like Larry…rocking a serious mullet. It was awful. Luckily when I went back to her 3 years later as a freshman in high school with the brilliant idea to get one half of my hair cut to the quick, while leaving the other half long, she absolutely refused.

I think it is safe to say that sometimes one or two of my awesome ideas are not always entirely awesome.

So last summer when I presented my husband with the great idea of piling our five kids into the car and driving all the way to the very very end of Cape Cod, and then basically make a u-turn and heading straight back… that should have raised some serious red flags. What I had suggested was basically a four-hour car ride from hell. If ever there was a time that I needed my hairdresser’s sensibilities, that was it. Even a half hour car ride with the kids can make me go bonkers. From soup to nuts it’s an exercise in torture. There are lots of reasons, but just to name a few:

Actually getting in the car Why is this so difficult? I’ve been telling them all day to go outside and play, and they have refused. But now as we are rushing out the door to get where we need to be they are running all over the yard frolicking to and fro’ as if they’ve just discovered the promise land. What is this glorious magical land you call the “outdoors”, and why have we never heard of it before?

Seatbelts It is a big surprise to some of them that they have to wear a seatbelt. I’m like, is your seatbelt on? And they seemed shocked and surprised as they look around for it. Come on people! It’s not a new invention that I just had installed the night before under the cover of darkness, and am now introducing for the first time. Behold: the seatbelt. The special apparatus that will hopefully keep you safe should I happen to crash the car while I am turned around yelling at you. The seatbelt is our friend. Now put the damn thing on.

Talking over the radio Oh my God! Don’t even get me started on all the annoyances that involve the radio in the car. “I’m just going to hone in on the MOST annoying one. And that is when I hear a Taylor Swift song that I like (and I like them all), so I turn it up and start singing, and then the girls launch into a big plan about who is going to sing what part. And then they are like, “Mom turn down the radio so we can figure it out.” and “Mom stop singing! That’s not your part!” By the time they have it all sorted out the song is over, and beg as they may, I can’t restart it because it is the radio. The RADIO. Not satellite radio. Not my iphone. But a good old fashioned radio that cannot be rewound.

Are we almost there? I don’t even need to expand on this one. We have literally not even left the neighborhood and some fool will ask if we are there yet. Seriously. And then each one of them will continue to ask at annoyingly close intervals until I turn around to tell them that if so much as hear one more peep from them there is going to be big trouble. Huge. I don’t know what that huge trouble is, but it will be awful. Then they all start peeping. Because that’s like wicked funny.

Backseat drivers My kids are little. They don’t drive. The oldest is about 5 years away from getting behind the wheel of a car. And yet, one of them (who shall remain nameless) is a backseat driver. “Mom, you’re going the wrong way.” “Why are you going so slow?” “Are we on a highway?” “Why aren’t we on a highway?” “Don’t go on the highway, I don’t like highways.” “You should go right” “Red means stop. Did you stop?” “Now you’re going really fast.” “Isn’t that the house we are going to?” NO! It is not the house that we are… oh wait…yes it is! Hold on everyone!

Talking to me while I’m ordering at the drive-thru While I’m ordering your special-order Happy Meal is NOT the time to remind me 50 times that you don’t want pickles on your cheeseburger. It’s just not. You already told me. I already acknowledged you. We have made a verbal contract that there are to be no pickles on your cheeseburger. But all the person at the drive-thru can hear is someone shouting pickles in the background instead of me asking for NO pickles. So you’re probably going to get extra pickles. Like tons of them. You have brought this upon yourself. Oh, and while we are on the subject… no one thinks it is funny when you roll down the back window and shout into the speaker that you want a Big Mac while I am at the DUNKIN DONUTS drive-thru ordering my life-saving coffee. I realize your siblings are high-fiving you and patting you on the back like you are a living legend. But I’m not amused. At all.

Getting out of the car Again, this seems like it should be a easy step in the traveling process. We are here. Get out. Exit the vehicle. Move it. But no, they want to sit there all cozy in their seats for some reason. For kids who have been basically complaining about being stuck in the car for so long you would think they would be running away as if the car were about to burst into flame.

That’s it. I can’t go on. I’m not even going to get into the mess, the fighting, the kid who thinks he might puke, everyone who has to pee at different times… I just can’t.