My mother 'gave teas' the way other mothers breathed. Her own mother 'gave teas.' All of their friends 'gave teas,' each involving butter cookies extruded from a metal press and pastel bonbons ordered from See's.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When I was younger, on weekends, my mom would make us pancakes with our initials on them and then a tiny cup of coffee. I remember at 10 sneaking my own coffee and pouring a ton of sugar in and going up to the playroom and drinking it.
My mother fed me with a spoon until I was 6 years old.
I collect imported teas, I have a few cupboards full! It's like wine, each has it's own flavour and you get into their little nuances.
I serve black tea, which I call Froggy tea. And I have green teas and all sorts of nice teas. I'm serving tea all the time.
My grandmother was this amazing woman in the Dominican Republic who used to read tea leaves and palms. She would cure people in her neighborhood by going into her garden, plucking a couple of leaves, and brewing teas.
Growing up in Ireland, when my family received important news, good or bad, we would boil water and make tea. It was the first thing I did when my father died in 1984. This ritual allowed me a moment to take in the enormity of what had happened.
We used tea towels for gloves until we got proper ones and were always breaking our mum's ornaments. She'd come home and find us all sat in our boxer shorts, out of breath and our skin red raw. She hated it.
I got nasty habits; I take tea at three.
The best Mother's Day gift I ever got was just a full day with the kids where they did their mommy pampering. They cut cucumbers and put them on my eyes and my daughter gave me a facial. I'm not even sure what was in it!
When I think of my childhood, I see my mother, the complete sixties parent, decked in purple frappe silk caftans, the acidic smell of newly stripped pine mingling with incense.