spilled coffee

I saw it happen in slow motion. 

I had just sprinted back upstairs to grab the “gym meet hair bag” from the hotel room to tackle a last-minute hair emergency before my girl started warmups. I was two steps from the door to rush back downstairs when my VERY FULL venti slipped from my hand and bounced on the floor before fully tipping over. 

I was on day #2 of early wakeup calls for gymnastics meets that required complicated braids and a lot of hairspray and coffee. My husband was the first in line both days when Starbucks opened to ensure he got coffee for me and breakfast for the girls before the line got too long — gosh I love that man. Needless to say, you can imagine the horror I felt as my scalding hot coffee soaked into the hotel room carpet. The people next door probably thought I was in serious danger from the way I screamed.

Time was not on my side, so I threw a towel over the spill like Adam Sandler in Big Daddy (no more wet mess) and ran back downstairs. As I came off the elevator and saw the insanely long Starbucks line, I was about to give up hope. But that’s when I saw it — the FAA logo on sweatshirt of what appeared to be a fellow gymnast’s dad waiting in line.

So I did what any desperate, sleep-deprived mom would do — I walked up to a stranger and begged for coffee. Except it came out something like this: 

“Hi. My daughter is an FAA gymnast too and I spilled my coffee while getting bobby pins to fix a hair emergency and I can’t wait in line because I have to get back to the gym before they start warmups but can I give you this empty cup for you to order me another one and I’ll pay you for it?” 

To make the situation even more awkward, my eyes were watering because my allergies were in full force, so I looked like I was crying over the spilled coffee situation. With a look on his face that was part confused and part compassion, he took the empty cup from me and said he’d order me a new one. I thanked him and just before I ran off I said, “Oh, by the way EC is my daughter. Whose dad are you?”

Fortunately, I ended up sitting next to his sweet wife at the meet and she confirmed to her husband (who was still in the Starbucks line) via text that I was – in fact – not a psycho and really just a mom in need of coffee. Just before the lights dimmed and the meet started, the hoodie hero made his way to his seat with my new coffee in hand. I’ve never been more grateful for our gymnastics family. 

Moral of the story? Ask for help. It’s something that women don’t do enough. We think we can handle it all on our own. We plan it down to the minute so all the boxes get checked. But life happens. Things get overwhelming. Coffee spills. God told us we aren’t alone in this chaos we call life, so why do we think we have to do it alone? If someone is standing there wearing a sign — literally or figuratively — that says “I’m on your team,” swallow your pride and just ask for help. There is no trophy for the frazzled woman who refuses to wave the white flag.