I heart my baristas

Like a lot of other mothers, I stop in Starbucks almost every day.

When May was first born, the doctors said that I would recover from my c-section much faster if I walked every day. Well, it was cold. I needed to rest after walking that long, tortuours half mile. So I'd go to Bucks, have a drink, sit and warm up, and then walk back.

On some days it was the only adult conversation I get between when Chrisotpher leftfor work and when he came home. On some days -- those days when I don't have story hour or play group or a friend visiting -- it still is.

Those of you who have never been at home for four days, trapped by cold or rain, with only a baby to keep entertained might have trouble imagining how important that two minute interaction is. Then again, maybe not.

And my baristas are great. No matter how crappy the weather, my mood, or May's mood, they always have a smile. They always tell me how beautiful my baby is. But that's just good service.

No, my baristas go way above and beyond the call.

They remember my insanely complicated drink. (Grande chai, organic milk, three pumps, no water, 130 degrees.) They remember Christopher's drink. They know that May likes to play with a cup and have a stash for her. They give me drinks and let me pay for them the next day if I forgot my wallet. They remember May's birthday.

And yesterday, when they ran out of chai, they stashed a little in the back room so that when I came in today, there would be enough for my daily drink.

I heart my baristas.

Which is why I'm declaring Feb. 1 "barista appreciation day." Show your love to the person who supplies your coffee, tea, or hot cocoa.