Rough-and-Tumble Tea Lover

So, I've been repeatedly peer-pressured by my good friend, "Tea Girl," to start my own blog.  But I've been ambivalent for many reasons, some of which I will post soon (if I do in fact post soon).  Nevertheless, I carved out some time to write a guest blog on her site.  You'll find it below.  


Rough-and-Tumble Tea Lover

On my front porch are a pair of sour-smelling socks, a couple sets of old tennis shoes – also sour-smelling and still half wet – and an old empty trash can.  All are products of my son’s crawdad hunting excursion in the creek down the street.  Whenever a buddy visits, in between the rounds of video games, whenever I insist they find something outside to do, this is the beloved activity.

The floor of my son’s room is littered with Legos.  Actually, that sounds too refined.  It’s carpeted with Legos… and a layer of dust.  I insist he keep one section clear so that I can make it to and from his bed without stifling a curse word, and he insists I not move any Legos in the other areas.  (Because I myself have a deep love for Legos, I’m willing to go along with this plan.)  On his bedside table is a wad of gum almost golf-ball size.  It is a growing wad, added to periodically with freshly-chewed pieces.  Sometimes he chews the whole wad.  I pretend not to know.

As I type, he is teasing our lazy hound dog with a homemade contraption: a pair of football socks dangling by fishing line from the end of a long stick.  He hangs it over the sleeping dog’s face.  Soon the dog is jumping to grab the socks and shake them furiously.  The line breaks.  The dog goes for the stick.  My son goes for more fishing line.  I insist it’s time for bed.

And he insists it’s time for tea.   

I brew a pot of the fragrant tea sent to us last Christmas by our former German exchange student.  Who knows what’s in it – the ingredients are in German.  (Yes, you’re right. Germans know.)   It looks like leafy things with a few flowers and orange rinds.  It smells divine.  I don’t know if I’m brewing the tea correctly (someday I need an official lesson from Tea Girl – hint, hint), but I’ve devised some sort of improvisation that produces a slightly reddish and rather yummy brew.

I pour his in a Dave and Buster’s souvenir mug and add some honey.  Not enough honey if you ask him, but more than enough to feel extravagant to me.  And I add an ice cube and a straw. 

Mine, I drink straight, in a slightly chipped mug given to me by a dear friend.  I love this mug.  It feels silky (if a mug can feel that way) and meaningful, so much so I’m willing to continue using it despite the chip.  The chip, by the way, was acquired when I was sick and Rough-and-tumble tried to surprise me with a cup of tea.  He got the tea right (PG Tips brewed strong with a splash of 2% milk) and he finally remembered not to add sweetener.  But he clanked the mug down on the counter a little too hard leaving a permanent reminder of his good deed.

I carry the mugs up to his room along with a Dallas Willard book tucked under my arm.  He will read his book from the school library and I will read my book.  And we’ll sit together on his denim comforter and sip our tea.   As usual, this is his idea.

These times together give me hope.   Great hope.  Sometimes (often!) moms of rough-and-tumble boys need hope.  And it can be a little hard to come by.

Mr. Rough-and-Tumble imitating one of my favorite poses.

The world looks at rough-and-tumble and often they see disruptive-and-bad.  Heck, lots of times I look at rough-and-tumble and see wild-and-I-am-failing-as-a-mom.  But if I look further – and I try to do this often – I see creative-funny-intelligent-energetic and yes, even kind.  That he is a tea lover has to mean something, right?  That he chipped his sick mother’s mug while making her tea seems promising.   That he is choosing to spend the final moments of his day reading with his mom and sipping tea has got to count for something. 

(Okay, true confession:  what it counts for is reading minutes.  He is trying to rack up as many as possible for school.  If the entire school collects enough minutes, all the teachers will dress up as clowns.  And that he’s gotta see.  Apparently, school administrators understand rough-and-tumble too.)

In the meantime, I will sip and savor… the German tea, the company and the hope.