Family in Costa Rica / The Power of Togetherness / Our Beloved Abuela...

In Costa Rica, the Abuela isn’t just a sweet older lady who hands out cookies. No, no, no… she is the sun around which the entire family orbits! She’s the leader of the pack, the CEO of the household, the undisputed referee of every family disagreement and the master chef whose secret recipes are taken straight from the heavens. If you think the President is in charge, trust me… the Abuela outranks him in every home!

Teresita knows this. Born and raised in Costa Rica, she has lived a life guided by her Abuela’s wisdom. In a Tico family, the Abuela has the final say — whether it’s deciding which grandchild needs more beans on their plate or determining who’s getting married too young. Her family is her kingdom, and she protects it fiercely, with love, with grace, and with the kind of side-eye that could stop a full-grown man in his tracks. 

Now Skip — well, Skip grew up in the USA loving his own grandmother dearly. Her cooking was unforgettable, and her hugs could melt a snowstorm. He still remembers her like yesterday — the smells of pot roast filling the kitchen, her soft voice sharing stories of the old days and that look she’d give him when he tried to sneak extra dessert. But loving your grandma in the U.S. is a little different than loving your Abuela in Costa Rica…

Because down here? The Abuela doesn’t just guide the family — she runs the family. You don’t argue with her unless you enjoy danger. If your Abuela tells you to put on a sweater — even in 90-degree heat — you put on the sweater. Porque la Abuela dijo. And if she says you’re looking too skinny? Prepare to be fed until you’re rolling home like a tamal navideño.

But it’s in the quiet moments where the Abuela’s true magic shines…

She is the keeper of family history — the storyteller who preserves every laugh, every triumph, every tear. She is the first to celebrate you and the last to give up on you. Her kitchen is a place of healing — each tortilla filled with encouragement, each taza de café poured with unconditional love.

Skip looks at Teresita’s family and smiles, because he sees what it means to be woven into something so powerful. Here in Costa Rica, FAMILY FIRST isn’t a slogan — it’s a way of life. The Abuela is the heart beating at the center of it all. She reminds everyone that love is not measured in things or status… it is measured in shared meals, warm hugs, and the sound of laughter echoing through a home filled with life.

And even if the grandkids sometimes roll their eyes at her insistence on “just one more plate,” deep down they know the truth:

Her food tastes like love.Her advice tastes like wisdom.Her presence tastes like home.

So here’s to the Abuelas — the queens of the kitchen, the guardians of culture the protectors of family. May we never forget how lucky we are to have them. And if an Abuela tells you to sit down and eat… well, amigo…

You sit down and EAT! 😄🍴💖

Pura Vida and long live the Abuelas of Costa Rica!

Tere's point of view

MY ABUELA: The General Patton of Our Tico Household

Skip got it exactly right — Abuelas in Ticolandia are the CEOs, the commanders-in-chief, the ones who REALLY run the show! But let me tell you about MY Abuela... she wasn't just a CEO. No, no, no. She was like General Patton leading the U.S. Marines in World War II — strategic, fierce, and absolutely NOT to be tested! 😄

Growing up, our house was basically a small village. There was me, my brother, my three cousins, my aunt and uncle, and of course — Los Abuelos. Nine people under one roof, and only ONE person truly in command: Abuela.

That woman had eyes in the back of her head, ears that could hear a whisper three rooms away, and a sixth sense for trouble. We'd be playing too rough, fighting over toys, tracking mud through the house, or sneaking dulces before dinner... and then it would come. The warning. The phrase that made every single one of us freeze in our tracks:

"¡Me les voy a LOQUEAR!"

(Translation for Skip: "I'm going to go CRAZY on you!")

Oh dear God. When those words left her mouth, we KNEW. She wasn't playing around anymore. That was DEFCON 1. Red alert. Abuela had reached the top of her patience mountain, and we were about to face the consequences!

We'd scatter like chickens — suddenly the toys were picked up, the fighting stopped, shoes were lined up perfectly by the door. Because "Me les voy a loquear" wasn't an empty threat. It was a promise. And Abuela ALWAYS kept her promises.

But behind every stern warning, every disciplined order, every "porque YO lo digo" (because I say so)... there was SO MUCH LOVE.

My Abuela didn't just feed us — she nourished our souls. She didn't just keep us in line — she taught us respect, responsibility, and what it means to be FAMILY. Her kitchen was command central, where every decision was made over a cup of café con leche and where problems were solved with a plate of gallo pinto and wise words that somehow always turned out to be right.

Looking back now, I realize she wasn't being harsh — she was preparing us for life. She was teaching five wild kids how to live together, share, respect each other, and understand that in a Tico family, we take care of our own. Always.

So yes, my Abuela was our General Patton. But she was also our safe place, our teacher, our protector, and the beating heart of our home.

And if she told us "Me les voy a loquear"?

Well... we learned real quick to straighten up and fly right! 😅❤️

Pura Vida, Abuela. You raised us right.