Somewhere along the line, I became a tea granny.
Not overnight.
Not because I suddenly developed a passion for tiny porcelain cups and proper tea etiquette. Although lately I have found myself oddly intrigued by the idea of hosting a proper high tea with the ladies in my family.
Fancy hats.
China cups.
Tiny cucumber sandwiches.
Dainty pastries.
An afternoon spent sitting around the table talking about life and family and all the things women somehow manage to solve when they get together.
So perhaps I shouldn’t completely rule out the possibility that full tea-granny evolution is still underway.
But the truth is, this transformation didn’t begin with fancy hats or cucumber sandwiches.
It started years ago in a much less glamorous place.
I blame my nursing career.
More specifically, I blame night shift.
Years ago I discovered that caffeine and I had a complicated relationship. Working nights meant needing coffee to survive the shift and then somehow trying to sleep during the daytime afterward. Unfortunately, caffeine had a nasty habit of surviving the shift too. Somewhere along the way I realized that if I wanted any hope of sleeping, I needed a replacement.
Enter herbal tea.
At first this was not a love story.
This was a practical arrangement.
I wasn’t searching for a new hobby or trying to become a tea enthusiast. I was on a mission.
I needed something warm.
Something comforting.
Something I could drink while everyone else had coffee.
Something that would let me sleep afterward.
Turns out that list was more complicated than I expected.
Coffee was out.
Regular tea still had caffeine.
Hot chocolate wasn’t much better.
So I started experimenting.
I looked at labels.
I tried different things.
And eventually that search followed me into restaurants and coffee shops too.
Restaurants offered exciting choices like peppermint… or chamomile.
Peppermint was acceptable.
Chamomile tasted, in my opinion, like someone had described flavour from another room.
Still, I persisted.
Because I eventually realized I wasn’t only trying to replace coffee.
I missed the warmth.
I missed holding a hot mug.
I missed the comfort of sitting with everyone else while they sipped their drinks.
There is something comforting about a warm drink in your hands. My mother believed warm drinks fixed many things. Sore throat? Warm drink. Feeling miserable? Warm drink. Need comfort? Warm drink.
Maybe that idea stayed with me.
Because somewhere along the way tea stopped being a substitute.
Tea became comfort.
Fast forward a few decades and I now stand in front of a kitchen cupboard that contains enough tea to survive a minor emergency.
I have tea boxes.
Tea baskets.
Loose-leaf tins.
And because I apparently crossed some invisible line years ago, I now have Ziploc bags labeled with masking tape because some tea boxes became too bulky and awkward.
I suppose you know you have a tea problem when your tea collection requires a filing system.
I apparently have seasonal tea preferences too.
Summer teas.
Winter teas.
Cozy sweater-weather teas.
Berry teas.
Citrus teas.
Chocolate peppermint tea.
And yes, I carry emergency tea bags in my purse.
Because restaurants can be surprisingly tricky. A flavored tea and an herbal tea are not the same thing, no matter how confidently someone assures you otherwise.
If necessary, I will request hot water and produce my own tea bag like some kind of tea-prepared survivalist.
I regret nothing.
I also have favourite tea cups.
Coffee belongs in one cup.
Tea belongs in another.
My tea cup is taller.
Not wider.
Just taller.
Why?
I have absolutely no idea.
But tea tastes better in that cup.
And then there is my current tea routine.
I make tea.
I carry tea around the house.
I put tea down somewhere.
I lose tea.
I search for tea.
I locate tea.
Usually in the microwave.
Because somewhere between writing, cleaning, letting the dog out, and wandering off to do seventeen other things, my tea has gone cold.
So I reheat it.
Sometimes repeatedly.
My family finds this hilarious.
“Mom,” they’ll ask, “how many times has that tea been reheated today?”
The answer is information I do not feel obligated to provide.
Let’s just say some cups show tremendous perseverance.
I also get a surprising number of steps every day simply trying to remember where I left my tea.
Perhaps my tea isn’t lost.
Perhaps it is helping me maintain my fitness goals.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Funny how these little habits sneak into our lives.
One day you’re a person who occasionally drinks tea.
The next day you’re labeling Ziploc bags, carrying emergency tea in your purse, reheating the same cup three times, and wondering if your missing tea mug is sitting in the microwave.
And honestly?
I think becoming a tea granny had less to do with tea and more to do with sleep.
Sleep.
Real sleep.
Years ago I was simply a tired nurse trying to survive night shifts and convince my body to sleep when daylight insisted otherwise.
I was solving a problem.
I just didn’t realize at the time that I was also building a habit, creating a ritual, and accidentally becoming a tea granny.
And somewhere along the way it became about more than sleep.
Comfort in routines.
Comfort in small rituals.
Comfort in finding little things that make life feel warmer.
And after all these years, I think I’ve earned the title.
Although I do sometimes wonder about other tea grannies.
Did they arrive here accidentally too?
Was there some little life circumstance that quietly nudged them toward tea?
Sleep problems?
Comfort?
Habit?
Or did some of them simply wake up one morning wearing a fancy hat and craving cucumber sandwiches?
Signed,
The Accidental Tea Granny