Coffee, Tea and Me
COFFEE, TEA AND ME
Simple Pleasures: My Mother's Morning Ritual
Good morning, friend.
My mom used to joke with company: "Coffee, tea, or me?"
Well, this is the "and me" part—where I tell you my stories, pour out my heart, and share what's been steeping in my soul.
Pour yourself a cup. Let's sit together for a minute.
The Picture Window
Why is tea time so important to me?
I thought about this question today as the sound of water warming in my tea kettle hummed through the kitchen. How did I get here? I HATED tea growing up. And now, at the ripe old age of... well, never mind that. But somewhere along the way, tea became everything.
So I pondered the question: How did this happen?
And this is what came to me.
Some of my earliest, most vivid childhood memories center on my mom's morning ritual: tea and a plain old-fashioned donut.
Her black Lipton tea. One teaspoon of sugar. A little bit of milk. Always the perfect shade of caramel brown.
The way she sat at the kitchen table alone, still in her robe and nightgown, staring out our huge picture window. The way she methodically dunked a piece of donut into her tea, lifted it to her lips with the corners of her mouth raised ever so slightly. You could SEE she really took pleasure in this moment.
Looking back, even now I can feel the calm and peace in that moment. The way everything—especially time—just stood still.
With seven children running around, this time just for her really was heaven.
When Company Came
Now don't get me wrong, tea time wasn't ALWAYS peaceful.
Sometimes tea time was the big social event of the week, when "company" would come over to visit.
Sometimes it would be one or more women from the wonderful group my mom had befriended over the years—those "wonderful women" I affectionately referred to as the Cackling Hens.
Sometimes the company would be the Baum sisters, the loud and lively bunch also affectionately known as my mother's sisters. They were ALWAYS excitable. ALWAYS dramatic. ALWAYS entertaining.
When company came, Mom's old reliable old-fashioned donuts would take a back seat to some fancy Entenmann's or Freihofer's pastry.
But my mom never strayed from her black Lipton tea. One teaspoon of sugar. A little bit of milk. Perfectly caramel brown.
The Look
I've thought a lot about this over the years, especially now that she's gone.
My mom never looked happier than at tea time.
Whether she was alone at that picture window, watching the world wake up, or surrounded by the Cackling Hens at the kitchen table, laughing until she couldn't breathe—tea time was when she was most herself.
It was her pause button. Her permission slip. Her daily reminder that life isn't just about doing, it's also about being.
Where This Is Going
I have many more tea time stories to share—about the Cackling Hens, about when I finally understood why Mom loved this ritual, about the morning after she died when I made myself Lipton tea (one teaspoon of sugar, a little bit of milk, perfectly caramel brown) and understood what I'd been watching my whole life.
About how tea time became MY morning ritual. How it became the birthplace of Bear + Bug. How it saved me.
But those stories are for another day.
For now, I'll just say this: If you're reading this, I hope you have something in your life like my mom's tea time. A ritual. A pause. A moment that's just yours.
And if you don't yet? Maybe start tomorrow morning.
Pour yourself a cup. Sit down. Stare out a window. Dunk something if you want to.
Let time stand still for just a minute.
That's where the magic lives.
Hope you'll join me again as I spill the tea.
—Princess George☕