Recently, my daughter and I decided to have tea for her friends and their moms. It all started because my own mom gave me twelve tea cups from my grandmother. I almost didn't take them because I really don't like stuff. But my daughter was drawn to them just as I was as a little girl. They don't match and that has always been part of the charm. For as long as I can remember my grandmother, I remember staring at these tea cups trying to decide which one was my favorite. Many are delicate and bone thin. Lots have flowers and gold rims and matching plates. A few are chipped and I am certain none are worth much in monetary value. But tea cups bring out the girl in even the die-hard tomboys. My daughter wanted to use them so why not have a few friends over with their moms for a sit-down tea? The daughter is almost nine and already signs of tween-ness are creeping in so I can see my days of her willingly spending time with me are numbered.
I am not good at keeping things simple when it comes to entertaining and food. Blame my mother. Blame the need to make sure there is not one chance that anyone will leave less than stuffed to the gills. If people don't feel bloated, I won't feel happy. At any rate, the daughter and I tackled most things together and had fun, though her attention wandered toward the end. This was a good reminder that entertaining people you care about aren't going to be critical. They come looking for fun and the big deal is that you have chosen your friends wisely, which is the real cause for celebration. It was a little moment of moms and daughters all laughing and giggling and loving together. The scene could be re-played anywhere, but this scene happened in my home just as it happened in my mother's home and my grandmother's home. It was sweet and silly and real and perfectly imperfect. So while I am not a collector of things, I am most certainly willing to store another box if what it brings to me is a moment of joy with my daughter. That's worth some space on the shelf, don't you think?
I am not good at keeping things simple when it comes to entertaining and food. Blame my mother. Blame the need to make sure there is not one chance that anyone will leave less than stuffed to the gills. If people don't feel bloated, I won't feel happy. At any rate, the daughter and I tackled most things together and had fun, though her attention wandered toward the end. This was a good reminder that entertaining people you care about aren't going to be critical. They come looking for fun and the big deal is that you have chosen your friends wisely, which is the real cause for celebration. It was a little moment of moms and daughters all laughing and giggling and loving together. The scene could be re-played anywhere, but this scene happened in my home just as it happened in my mother's home and my grandmother's home. It was sweet and silly and real and perfectly imperfect. So while I am not a collector of things, I am most certainly willing to store another box if what it brings to me is a moment of joy with my daughter. That's worth some space on the shelf, don't you think?
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