My Mom, Grace, and I have a tradition that’s been going strong for the past 7 years or so. At least once a year when we are all together, we make time to go out for a “ladies tea” date. We get dressed up, leave all the boys behind, and enjoy a girly afternoon sipping tea and dining on finger sandwiches, mini delicacies, and petit fours. And it’s heavenly.
The tradition started about 7 years ago as I pondered what to give my Mom as a Christmas gift. I often stray from giving “things” and favor coming up with experiences, especially when deciding on gifts for my parents. That first year I found a cute tea-house in our area and wanted to include Grace, since our moments together alone were so few and far between those days with infant twin boys at home. The three of us escaped for our date and had the time of our lives, as we’ve done over a dozen times since. The rest is history.
What’s funny about our new tradition is how the entire outing revolves around the ritual of tea. It’s funny because my Mom and I don’t really even care for tea. We usually get a pot to taste, but never even finish our first cup, and often supplement with an order of coffee. In a tea-house, that’s sacrilege. Even Grace usually prefers the pink lemonade, though the past few times she’s adventured in a tea order of her own.
I love our tea dates. I love that they give us a chance to talk about anything and everything. I love the tea sandwiches, the girly decor, and the way that Grace always sneaks a sugar cube and eats it whole. I love that my Mom loves scones, especially the warm ones, and I love that Grace knows how to sip her tea “like a lady”. I love that us girls have a tradition, and we prioritize this dedicated time together. I love that the three of us have these memories, doing something that is arbitrary at the end of the day, but doing it with regularity.
And that’s the beauty of it. It not about the tea. It’s about the cherished tradition of our time together.
