A teapot involves too many steps for me, especially on days like today. I just filled up the big, giant mug my cousin painted for me this summer at the pottery place in our little downtown. After three minutes, the microwave told me the water was hot enough. I don't care about the specifics; I'm hardly picky about how hot it is or how long the tea steeps. Sometimes I end up forgetting about it and have to reheat it hours later. No matter. I still drink it.
I'm just happy to have finally made it to this drinking tea part of my day. It's been a long one, filled with sullen anger from my husband, which led to an ugly argument before he went out the door on a trip for work for most of the week. Sigh. That left me crabby and angry with three little kids on a cold, drizzly day. Suffice to say it wasn't my most stellar mom day, but I managed to play a few fun Uno games, make homemade muffins for Ben's baseball game, and feel grateful for that game, which pulled me out of the house and out of my witchy mood.
And now it's evening, and my kids are chomping on apples while they wind down and watch Odd Squad before heading to bed. I'll visit their rooms one at a time, padding along in my ugly but warm and comfy Ugg slippers, carrying my big mug of tea. First I'll read two picture books to Kiefer, then I'll read a handful of poems from Kwame Alexander's The Crossover, and then I'll head downstairs to Lorelei's room where I'll finish my tea and a chapter of Short by Holly Goldberg Sloan.
And then, the house will be quiet. I'll walk Sunny one more time and head to bed early. I'm already looking forward to Monday morning. I love Mondays--a fresh new week, a fresh new day, a fresh new start. It's like a reset button.
See you then.