Minding my Ps and Qs

Otherwise known as adventures in Parenting Quinn.  Read it (and comment!  Follow!) over at my WordPress spot here. 

Free falling

Read about taking a flying leap here.  Maybe "follow" me, too.

What's wrong with oysters?

After days without wifi - a DelSo Wordpress post!

Beach Bonfire - UPDATED with photos!

When I was polling the boys, prior to our annual Cape Cod trip, about what they might be interested in doing Griffin requested a bonfire on the beach.  Yep, the same boy who took surfing lessons and wanted to visit L.A.  He's a dude in the making, fer sure.  

The process for legally having a fire at one of a select few of Wellfleet's beaches (3 ocean beach options) is fairly straight forward: you must have a permit and permits are issued on a first come, first served basis, day of only. By the time I hit the beach office at 10:00 in the morning, two of the three beaches were "full" already, leaving White Crest, a beach I don't recall visiting in the past, as our default option.  Because a full moon was expected, I happily took my free permit and mentally made a to-do list...

The little guys were in charge of gathering kindling wood and they did a super job making a pile of sticks and twigs.  Actually, they made two piles, one of which was firewood.  The other stack of branches was their arsenal of stick weapons.  Mostly rifles, I believe.  Both stacks were tossed into the car, and ultimately on to the fire, a situation which required profuse apologies and promises of weapon gathering come daylight.  Additional items acquired included graham crackers (we already had Hershey bars and marshmallows), more significant wood to burn (we had to choose from "hardwood" or "softwood." Have at it, jokesters!) and a lighter.  With all materials in hand, we headed to the beach just in time to see the moon seemingly rise from the majestic Atlantic.  Stunning.

You may have noticed I neglected to mention paper to assist in starting the fire.  

We neglected to think of, much less, bring paper.  No worries.  We cleaned our cars out of expired insurance id cards, printed out directions and other miscellaneous bits of paper from our glove boxes.  And the graham cracker box was pretty handy, too.  I have to say, we built a stupendous fire.  It was perfectly constructed in that pyramid/tepee shape and it burned beautifully. 

 

There was a breeze blowing from the south (east?) and the flames danced in the darkness as the moon played hide and seek with some errant clouds.  Marshmallows were toasted and our wild things frolicked on the beach, amped on sugar and salt air. Memories were made which will remain vivid far beyond the glow of our fire's embers. 

Great idea, Griffin.

Defining Luxury

Someone needs to explain to my children that spending two weeks at the beach every summer is a luxury, not something to be taken for granted. It's always been important to me that the boys have traditions in their lives, certain experiences that provide a constant thread throughout their childhoods.  Cape Cod vacations have been a part of their summers literally for their entire lives.  While there, we always eat at the Lobster Pot, we listen to the same song as we cross the bridge in Bourne, there is ice cream nearly every day.  It's what we do.

But, something seems to have backfired.   Their attitude is in danger of morphing into entitlement - is this how that happens?  Somehow they've gotten the impression that everyone spends two weeks frolicking in the Atlantic each and every year.  All of the preparations, the shopping and stocking up on tequila chips and granola bars, the packing of the linens, the beach toys, the clothing...the arrangements for the house and our dog while we're away...the bikes...they've gotten the impression that everything will managed. By me, apparently.  And, of course, I will take care of them and all the necessary details involved with making us all comfortable for two weeks in a place or two not our home.  It's what I do.

I work two jobs to be able to afford a two week vacation in Cape Cod.  This is a luxury. Which brings me to healthcare...I am firmly of the belief that every one in this country should be able to have access to medical care.   Getting sick and requiring medical attention is a completely different set of circumstances. It is a necessity.  I've been without health insurance and it is a bad place to be, certainly about as unlike a vacation at the beach as I can imagine. 

I understand that we all have issues with how our taxes are spent - I personally wish we spent as much money on education and the well being of our citizens as we do on war, but shouldn't everyone be able to bring their sick children to a doctor? If I lost my job, a possibility in these economic times when districts are eliminating positions left and right, my biggest fear would be healthcare. As someone who has already had cancer twice, as well as weird heart issues (obviously, a precise medical term), I can't imagine health insurers would be willingly lining up to give me coverage. What do you think? I don't know as much about Obamacare as I probably should, but it seems like a starting point as our country considers the health and well being of our citizens. To me, it seems a positive indication that someone cares about a basic and essential need in a civilized society. I think I might spend some time at the beach talking to the boys about how lucky we are to have two weeks at the beach. And health insurance every day.

Are you my mother? And who's my daddy?

image: http://blog.schoollibraryjournal.com

It's been a weird weekend...I kind of hit the wall on a number of levels, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, hit the wall  with numerous body parts.  Truth be told, I probably used my head the most.  I had so many options available to me; concerts, and old friends, and art and strawberries, yet I kind of shrugged it all off.  Unlike many decisions in life, I didn't get that immediate tingling sensation that confirms many of my choices.  I'm thinking maybe I'm a bit numb.  Summer vacation can't come soon enough.

Despite feeling less than great (I'm about to pop my 3rd Aleve in 2 days!) I've maintained my commitment to running 20 miles this week and it has been a struggle.  The music hasn't been quite right, and even if it were perfect, my right glute is screaming louder than any song playing.  Not tremendously fun or satisfying.

On my run Friday, I passed two elder(ly?) women walking.  They were on the opposite side of the street and I was wearing contacts, which don't do all they should to improve my vision.  I was taken aback by one of the women - she looked like my mother.  I think.  The last time I spoke to my mother in person was when she attempted a "scar-off" to prove that her heart surgery was way worse than my cancer surgery could have ever been.  Ok, you win and what have we proven?  That you have a heart and I can cut malignant things from my life and prosper? Fine.

Well, it is a little disconcerting to not be certain whether a person is, or is not, your parent. You'd think this would be a familiar sensation for me, growing up as I did wondering if every single man with a brogue was my father, but it was still weird.  I had a familiar train of thought ride through my head.  What will it be like when she's gone?  Will I stop seeing her everywhere the way I stopped imagining every Irishman to be my father once I knew he was gone?

I'm getting ready to be a stay at home mom for 10 weeks and I plan to slow down, enjoy my boys and try really hard to make sure that they always know who their parents are, two people who love them dearly.

Very nice, funny and huggable

image: www.prlog.org

At least that's how my youngest described me in this year's utterly precious Mother's Day card.  Yep, it's a keeper.  This was my 16th Mother's Day and it contained both poignant and annoying moments. Kind of like motherhood,  in general,  I guess.

Quinn gave me a marigold, Griffin gave me a song and dance about the present I was going to receive at some undetermined point in the future, Liam gave me hope that he will one day shave that caterpillar of fuzz from above his top lip and they all gave me a hard time about walking the slightly over a mile distance to the Capital City Gastropub, our chosen brunch spot.  Just another day in paradise, right?

The death march walk on a beautiful late spring day was filled with conversations and complaints, probably in nearly equal measure.  I don't really remember Mother's Day 2011, my first as a separated parent, but I believe that this year was my first public Mother's Day as an unattached mom.  And it was a little weird.

The boys and I sat on the Gastropub's sunny front patio seated next to another unaccompanied by a partner Mom and thoroughly enjoyed our bountiful brunch.  I felt proud of my children for their appetites and their manners, Quinn's requests for a beer, aside.   When it was time to walk home, the older boys went ahead of Quinn and me, moving at a different pace than a 7 year-old with comparatively short legs and a 45 year-old with a belly full of smoked salmon and eggs.  As we approached Albany Academy, I suggested that Quinn hand his glasses over to me and take a tumble down the grassy hill, an idea that he enthusiastically embraced.  After his third spin, he staggered to his feet and remarked that he would have missed the opportunity to have that fun experience had we driven rather than walked.  

Very nice, funny, huggable and, dare I say, sometimes able to teach my boys that taking a walk and roll or two down a hill is a much more enjoyable way to travel through life than merely being a passenger. Hugs for everyone.

Motherhood - adapted and adopted

When my oldest son was born via an unanticipated c-section, I felt incredibly removed from the process.  I suspect it was more because of the drugs I was given than his method of arrival.  I believe I've mentioned I don't really care for pharmaceuticals before. Afterwards, I remember confessing to a friend that I could have been given any baby and would have loved it equally as much as I did that less-than-6-pounds-wonder that was handed to me by the trusting nurse in the operating room.  The process was completely unexpected but I adapted to the circumstances.  I became a mom. 

By the time I was expecting my second child, the friend I had confided in was anticipating the arrival of her daughter, via adoption.  After years of interventions and attempts at conceiving a biological child, my friend and her husband had navigated the foreign adoption process.  They brought their infant home a couple of months before I delivered, naturally, my full term, full sized baby boy number two.  Our babies were introduced in my newborn's first week of life on the outside.  My friend told me she had been comforted by my admission years earlier, that those words had helped convince her that having the capacity to love a child had very little to do with having the ability to birth one.  She became a mom. 

Adapting to becoming a mom or adopting to become a mom, are equally enormous leaps in a woman's life, certainly too huge to be honored in a single day. To all you women out there who have ever made the decision to love a child - I wish you a Happy Mother's Day.  

May Day

image: http://s3-media4.ak.yelpcdn.com

In Germany, where my mother comes from, May 1st is a holiday.  There are flowers and Maypole dancing and tree planting ceremonies on this day which celebrates spring's midway point. It is a sweet, sweet day, reminiscent of a more simple time. My mother, the third of fifteen children, never really celebrated her own birth on this special day, nor really on any other day. For her, May Day was just another day to be disappointed by life.

My second child was due on May 1st, 1999, his soon-to-be-Oma's 61st birthday.  I was mildly distressed by this coincidence because I certainly didn't want my child to share a birthday with someone who didn't acknowledge her own life with joy. Of course, since there was little I could do to determine Baby #2's arrival day, I just hoped for an early arrival and, when my water broke on April 29th, I knew I got lucky.   Griffin Hudson arrived exactly one day early, beautifully pink with a hearty cry and a bald head. Unfortunately, his birth was a disappointment to my mother since she had fervently wished that I would have a daughter. You know, a girl as revenge for all the trouble I had caused her during my teen years, trouble I presumably still cause as an adult. At least one of us was happy.

I remember bringing Griffin home from the hospital, driving down Hackett Avenue and noticing that in the 2 short days since Griffin joined our family, everything looked different. The tulip beds in the median had popped and the blue sky was filled with white cottony fuzz from some unknown tree. Spring had arrived with this perfect baby boy.

Although I have considered Griffin to be an old soul since his infancy, today Griffin enters the rank of teenager. It's a weird thing to know that I'm heading to the Wine Bar tonight to work rather than preparing to share a special meal with my boy, but, I know his Dad has things covered. I was fully present the afternoon he arrived 13 years ago and, on his request, we'll enjoy dinner tomorrow, May Day, at Cafe Capriccio. At least there will be someone joyfully greeting the month of May. 

Cantastic!

peacock

We finally got down to the New York State Museum yesterday afternoon to check out their Canstruction exhibit.  This "zoo" display is comprised of a dozen or so animals constructed completely from canned food items and is remarkably cool and creative.  The exhibit is only up until Thursday, April 26th at 3pm, so you need to get there NOW!  The entire display, along with a spin on the carousel, takes only about 25 minutes to view.  Bring a few cans of food to vote on your favorite animals.  All food will be donated to regional food pantries to provide assistance to local families in need. 

elephant

sea turtle

pelican

kangaroo

busy beaver

tiger

FDR's Hyde Park

On a recent sunny afternoon, I fulfilled one of my oldest son's longstanding requests - we finally visited the FDR estate in the Hudson Valley's Hyde Park. He's been wanting to visit this National Historic site for years. You see, he's got a thing for FDR. Back in his trick or treating days he actually wanted to be Franklin for Halloween. I persuaded him to be Teddy instead, because we lacked a wheelchair, but his admiration of Franklin remained undeterred. 

We headed south and exited the thruway in Catskill, opting for the scenic route down 9G on the east side of the Hudson.  Along the way we passed numerous other historic sites, most notably Olana, that have already made their way onto our summer calendar of things to do.  During the highway portion of the drive, Liam watched a documentary on FDR on his iPad, agreeing to turn it off once we hit the rip Van Winkle bridge.  When we arrived in Hyde Park, he was ready - prepped with new information about Franklin and excited for the tour.  Tours are one hour in duration and cost $14 - kids 15 (Liam!) and under are free.

Our National Parks employee (ranger?) was a knowledgeable and patient guide to the property and I learned a lot about FDR, his family and his presidency.  I mean, I knew he was our most longstanding president but didn't realize he was an only child and had arrived late in his own father's life.  He had a fear of fire following a childhood incident in which he saw a young girl set aflame after an incident with an early generation hair straightening device and preferred to be on the ground floor when traveling.  Franklin also enjoyed collecting stamps and birds and seemed to most enjoy being in the country as evidenced by this quote:  "All that is within me cries out to go back to my home on the Hudson River." Kind of how I feel about New York City, I suppose.

One of Frankllin's wheelchairs

His home was considered a country home, and was not particularly fancy or formal.  Especially in comparison to some of the more elaborate estates like the Vanderbilt's spread.  The original footprint of the house had been enlarged with wings built on both sides.  A third floor, for the children, was also added.  Both Eleanor and Franklin are buried on the property amongst a rose garden which was just showing signs of life on the spring day we visited. 

We grabbed some lunch at the nearby Hyde Park Brewery, where I enjoyed my burger and Winkle Lager.  Liam and I agreed that our next visit to the area will center around the ladies, namely Eleanor and me, with an intended stop at Eleanor's cottage, Val-Kill and a meal at the Culinary Institute.  Who says history can't be fun?

Mama's boys to men

Two of my three sons are now taller than me. I rarely look at them without shaking my head in amazement. When did that happen? I've officially been a parent for a third of my life. How is that possible? My boys are turning into young men in front of my very eyes and the evolution is remarkable.

There have been some recent instances which have caused my heart to swell with pride and satisfaction, occasions that have certainly bolstered my positive response to those who inquire about how the boys are doing. In the past couple of weeks, the boys have demonstrated to me that beyond merely being fine, they are, in fact, growing up nicely. My 15 year-old opened my eyes to this fact by pointing out that I don't let him help me. It was a simple statement but I've heard his words repeating in my ears since he spoke them. And I'm trying.

We watched a wonderful movie the other night, Midnight in Paris. I know, welcome to spring 2011, right? Anyway - I'm glad we delayed viewing this movie until the ideal time because we both were utterly charmed. It was a lovely, lovely film. During one of the scenes, as the camera panned around the magnificence that is Paris, Liam asked me if I wanted to go there. I assumed he was angling to add a day or two to our hoped for trip next year - the visit to Germany that he has requested for "his" next special trip. I've been to Paris before, but only long enough to determine that it was the most beautiful city I'd ever visited.  I acknowledged to him that I would love to go to Paris again and he said I should go next year.  When I pointed out that he was in the rotation for next year's trip, he asked me a stunning question: 'Mom, when is it your turn?"

Well...isn't that an interesting perspective. 

Get a room! (Part 2)

Continued from here -

For nights 2 and 3 of our winter break, we shifted our base to an Embassy Suites in the Old Town area of Alexandria, VA, a 15-20 minute ride on the Blue Line of the Metro system.  I've stayed here before and I like the location.  It is close enough to D.C., around the corner from some great retail shopping and restaurants on King Street and very comfortable.  We did, however, have an issue.  The hotel is being renovated, which meant that the breakfast service was a bit disjointed.  I don't expect to eat in a hotel using disposable flatware - call me princess if you must.  The other issue was something we had, ironically, encountered during our other stay at this particular hotel.  The pool, other than our first day, was unavailable due to maintenance.  Had I been made aware of this scheduled maintenance, we would have perhaps stayed all three nights at the Foggy Bottom location.  Here's what's cool, though. I Tweeted about my annoyance and within an hour, received an email from corporate apologizing for the situation.  Ultimately, I was credited the price of one night's accommodations to compensate me for the inconvenience, a nice gesture on their part.  I would still consider staying at this hotel in the future, but I would certainly confirm the availability of the advertised amenities.

The magnificent marble stairs at the Monaco

In Baltimore we stayed in the plushest digs of our trip, the Kimpton Monaco.  This recently opened hotel is in a gorgeous historic building and our room was fantastic!  The superior quality of this place was apparent even to my 7 y/o, who quickly declared it to be the "best place" we stayed.  Our room was spacious, quiet and included a banging bathroom complete with garden tub and walk in shower. and my favorite Aveda products as a bonus. Our two days here were exceedingly comfortable and we were very well taken care of by the staff.  Price-wise we lucked out with a deal from Hotwire and paid only $200 and change total for 2 nights.  Speaking of Hotwire, another special offer came my way while we were in Baltimore which provided me the opportunity to cancel the reservation we had in place for our final night in NYC at the Radisson.

The Hotel Belleclaire, a small boutique hotel on the UWS, was offering a special for approximately $115 a night and I pounced on it.  The hotel was just west of Broadway on 77th  Street - a great location for exploring, or revisiting, one of my favorite areas of Manhattan.  The lobby was being renovated, which made for some noise and dust upon entry, but the staff couldn't have been more accommodating, storing our luggage and providing a suite to guests complete with snacks and beverages.  The room itself was standard NYC small, but it was clean (no skeevy carpet!) and equipped with a modern bathroom and a comfortable bed.  I would definitely consider staying here again, although it is more appropriate for a couple than a family.  Guess I'd better work on that!

I've come to the conclusion, however, that my favorite hotel in New York City is the Millenium Hilton, on Church Street in the financial district.  A week after my epic train trip with my youngest, I headed back to the city with my oldest and this is where we stayed.  I believe I've stayed at this particular Hilton at least a half dozen times and I've never had a bad experience. The staff is always pleasant, the room immaculate and the location perfect for my needs. And there's a pool! I know that I've landed at this place through the luck of the draw when using Hotwire and/or Priceline, but most recently I've been booking using a combination of Hilton Honors points and cash. The going rate for this place on a weekend is often a bit less than the more centrally located Hiltons in Manhattan, generally about $250 a night, I'd say. Using a combination of points and cash brings it down to about $100 a night - a real New York bargain. The added bonus of staying in the business district is that onstreet parking is generally available on weekends and holidays, which can save you a bundle. If you're unfamiliar with this part of the city, be aware it is NOT like midtown - at all. There isn't much in the way of shopping other than Brooks Brothers (natch) and Century 21. No worries - there is a Starbuck's around the corner and tons of green space for kids and adults alike, as well as the 9/11 Memorial, the Staten Island Ferry,  Southstreet Seaport and the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm already thinking about gathering up the girls and getting down there again - asap.

Ted's Fish Fry - Wolf Road

My oldest son is an unusual kid with a wide range of interests. He loves history and trains and inexplicably NASCAR and Broadway musicals and opera. A real renaissance guy. When it was time for him to choose where he wanted to eat for his recent birthday, he had a local request and a suggestion for when we're in the city this weekend that clearly illustrate his divergent tastes. Local choice: a fish fry, NYC: Bobby Flay's Bar Americain. Yep, that's my Liam!

Based on a good friend's recommendation, we ventured up to Wolf Road Tuesday night to indulge in some fried fish, despite middle son's repeated admonishings that "fish are friends not food." Whatever - bring on the cod!

We've been to the Ted's in Troy and enjoyed the classic drive in quality to the joint. This location is different, more comfortable for sitting, more modern. We stood to the side of the counter and consulted to determine our order and stepped up to the man behind the counter prepared with our dinner request. Well...the man at the counter was a bit rude intimidating and my efficiency really was tested as he barked, sometimes at me, sometimes at the line cooks behind him. It was so extreme that I was left wondering if they have some sort of shtick a la Soup Nazi. We suffered through his inhospitable disposition, placed our order (2 fish fry platters, 1 chicken tenders, 10 mild buffalo wings, 1 bowl of New England clam chowder, 1 small order of onion rings and 3 beverages and a water. $46 + a tip for the pleasant (or "hot" as my youngest boy declared. Loudly) teen aged girl who rang us up.

We sat with our drinks while our food was cooked and observed that the counter guy was consistent with his lack of warmth, but when the Lilly boys retrieved the food and served me (!), it was all worth it.  Piping hot, crispy, moist...absolutely delicious. The fish was served with a sort of concoction that I can only describe as the bastard child of tartar sauce and cocktail sauce.  Red, relish-y and sweet. I wanted to take photos but was concerned that I would upset the counter guy and that was a risk I was unwilling to take. Liam did not offer me a taste of his chowder, but he said it was terrific and, more importantly, he shared his oyster crackers with his brothers. Speaking of sharing, I ordered only a small portion of onion rings because the boys indicated they weren't too interested in them. Well, I think I got maybe two of those rings - and that was after I wrestled one away from Quinn. Sorry, baby boy, mommy really needed that ring. We'll get the large order next time. The fries were forgettable and the cole slaw tasty, with a peppery bite offset by a vinegary sharpness. The chicken tenders looked really good, while the mild wings were a little more spicy than I would have expected, but the had a nice crispness to them and were perfectly sauced - not dry, not too messy. Not a single complaint about the food could be made.

All in all, probably the best fish fry we've had in the area, good value, comfortable spot (counter ogre aside), and decent location. We'll be back!

Madame Tussaud's with Quinn

Thanks to a Groupon deal, Quinn and I visited Madame Tussaud's last week while we were in D.C. This sort of place isn't usually my cup of tea, but Quinn was excited to see the Presidents and celebrities, so off we went. At $20 for 2, I thought it was a decent value - at any more than that I would have felt ripped off. The photos below should give you an idea of Quinn's often inappropriate irreverent sense of humor...

George and Quinn

Quinn Wilkes Booth

Quinn and Franklin

Winston and Quinn

Soldier Quinn

I like Ike (and Quinn)

Quinn Kennedy

Space Boy Quinn

Quinn and Bob

Quinn and Tiger

Quinn and Ali

Michael and Quinn

15 years of parenthood

Fifteen years ago today, on the warmest February 27th on record in Albany, I became a parent.  While I've spent the last decade and a half teaching my son about life, the world and his family, I would be remiss in not acknowledging all the things he has taught me.  

1.  His birth, from the earliness of his arrival (5+weeks premature) to the method of delivery
(c-section) taught me that despite a combination of meticulous planning and the miracle of
conception, being a parent is often about yielding control.
2.  My post delivery drugged condition left me with very little interest in holding my new baby
boy.  His dad demonstrated the beauty of paternal love and attention as he cradled his son
in his arms.  Beautiful.
3.  Life changes with parenthood, but balance remains important.  People who have nothing to
talk about other than their children are tedious.
4.  Exposing children to travel and culture from an early age is as valuable as any formal
education they will ever receive.
5.  There is no pain that my children have suffered that I wouldn't gladly absorb as my own.  
Since this isn't possible, my job is to help them develop tools for dealing with negative
situations and experiences.
6.  Providing my boys with a healthy mixture of reality and possibility is an inspiring part of
being a parent.
7.  Time moves quickly.  Really quickly.  I lost my breath recently considering that in 3 or 4
short years Liam will be in college.  Wow.
8.  Children come with their own preferences.  Accepting these preferences is an excellent
exercise.
9.  My ridiculous rate of speed and multitasking is not a realistic thing to expect from my
children.  I've been told a number of times that I need to stop giving multiple directions
simultaneously.  I'm working on it.   
10.  Having my first baby at 30 was pretty ideal.  I can't imagine having started my family any
sooner than that.
11.  Traveling with children is like taking two trips - yours and theirs.  Twice as cool,
frequently twice as exhausting.
12.  Seeing how other people perceive your child is fascinating.  
13.  From their first steps, children are preparing to walk away from their parents.  It's ok!!  
They'll have so much to share when the come back home again.
14.  I always imagined myself as a "girl" mom.  I was wrong.
15.  Fifteen years have gone faster than I ever could have imagined.  There is nothing like
parenthood to teach the value of time.

Royal treatment at the Emperor's Palace

Fried squid

Yesterday was the youngest Lilly princes' birthday, and as we usually do, we went to his favorite Chinese place, Emperor's Palace, to celebrate. Now I'd say there are probably 20 Chinese restaurants that are closer to our DelSo home, but Emperor's Palace is special. It's where the boys developed their obsession with Peking Duck and Fried Squid with sea salt and peppers. It's the place where I ate the night before Quinn was born, when my labor was finally beginning to become serious instead of just teasingly annoying. And it is where we go, apparently, when we have no money. Huh?  Say what?

Roast duck wonton and noodle soup

Here's what happened... I was hungry. Really, really hungry. When I arrived home to pick up the boys following my class at the Y, I couldn't get on the road fast enough. We hauled up to Wolf Road, with an intended quick stop at Toys R Us for one last birthday gift. As Quinn and I got out of the car, I realized (with a barely restrained expletive) that I had forgotten to bring my handbag. After a fast mental inventory (how long could that take, right?), I accepted that I was going to have to go back home to get my new happy wallet, but then Liam said he had some cash. Stopping on a dime and reassessing the situation, I decided to buy the $10 gift with Liam's money and then hit another Chinese place for dinner. The Wine Bar guys had enjoyed a recent meal at Shining Rainbow and I figured we could give that a shot instead. Present purchased, we got back in the car to head home.

Peking duck

Then, I had a thought...we've been eating at Emperor's for so many years that maybe they would consider allowing us to eat and then call them with the necessary bank card info to pay for our meal. The boys and I consulted and agreed it was worth a shot. I pulled into the Emperor's parking lot and went inside where I was greeted by a big smile from the two male servers who have been there forever. I explained my dilemma, not even playing the birthday card. Without hesitation, they agreed and I went out to retrieve the elated boys. And we had a killer dinner. In a world of chain restaurants and mediocre customer service, it is such a treat to go to an authentic Chinese restaurant and feel so completely at home. 

7 things you might not know about Quinn Lilly

1. He was born on Chinese New Year (Year of the Rooster).
2. He has been described as "formidable."  At the time, he was 2.
3. He is funny - really, really funny.
4. He possesses an uncanny ability to mimic voices and accents.
5. He has a fantastic memory.
6. He has a generous heart.
7. He is now 7!!

Roast Beast

While I wouldn't consider myself to be overly impressed by beefcake, I do enjoy a good piece of meat.  Last night I treated the Lilly boys/princes to a beautiful roast beef dinner.  Or roast beast, as I said to Quinn.

I prepared the beef simply,  with salt and pepper, and placed the roast on a meat rack in my magic roasting pan.  Below the beef in the pan was a combination of red wine, beef stock and sliced onions adding some steamy richness to the oven.  Confession: I don't know what I do wrong, but I struggle to slice roast beef as thinly as I would like.  Yes, my knife is sharp.  Any hints?

After spending the day in the crockpot

Dinner was tasty and there were unsliced leftovers of the 2.5 lb roast despite Griffin's best efforts. I only had to threaten Quinn with discipline twice, both times related to the mashed yellow and sweet orange potatoes.  As if beef and mashed potatoes aren't the ultimate pairing! 

This morning I placed the beef, the au jus/onion liquid and a couple of canned chipotles in adobo, into the crock pot and let things simmer all day.  Tonight, I removed the meat and shredded/sliced it, adding my leftover mashed potatoes from the previous night to the juices in the pot.  This step worked to both thicken things up a bit and to take the edge off my enthusiasm with the chilis. Delicious.  Like a spicy beef stew that would only have been more wonderful with some sliced avocado and a cheese quesadilla.  Maybe tomorrow. 

Tradition!

Considering Liam's love for Fiddler on the Roof, it should come as no surprise that he pulled out the "t" word last week when we were having a discussion about when to get our Christmas tree.  Since we like to cut our own, and are believers that a tree should settle a bit prior to decorating, I offered (after consultation with the boys' dad), two options: Saturday afternoon with the four of us or Sunday with 5 Lillys in a 'vo*.  He opted for the second choice stating that we should all go together because it was a "tradition."  I agreed without hesitation, but did spend a little time later thinking about traditions and their importance.

When I recall my own childhood Christmas memories, I think about things like that wacky silver tree we had for a few years in the early 70's, and the special linens and dishes which only got pulled out once a year.  I remember the hushed mystery of midnight mass and eggnog sprinkled with nutmeg and packages wrapped with more care than I can ever muster.   Even after so many years, the images in my head remain vivid (perhaps that metallic tree burned itself into my corneas) and the season's festiveness holds a special magic I am happy to immerse myself in during the month of December.

The power of memories and traditions as an influence on our own actions and celebrations can't be minimized.  As a child I loved the tradition of Christmas cards - the special stamps and glittery excitement of what each day's mail might bring.  I myself have continued the practice of sending Christmas cards despite my annual threat to seriously cut back, if not eliminate the practice due to the emotional expense of getting the perfect photo and creating the perfect card and honing and continuing to perfect my list of recipients.  But it isn't really about perfection, at all, is it?  

When my son used the "t" word, it made me proud to know that, despite the upcoming dissolution of our marriage, his dad and I have been able to navigate our way to a place where our boys still believe in and respect family traditions. So, last weekend the 5 of us drove together to the tree farm we've been going to for years (our original place slid into the Normanskill some time ago) and we picked two trees for the first time. I picked a different type of tree than we've ever had - it is smallish and has beautiful long, soft needles that didn't shred my hands when I placed the lights on it in my slightly OCD fashion. The boys' Dad got a ridiculously huge tree which I would have most certainly done my best to veto in years gone by. I'm sure we both believe we have Christmas trees that are perfect but, more importantly, I know we have provided our children with imperfect holiday traditions they will continue to honor long after the trees have shed their needles and hit the curb.  

*a fond abbreviation for Volvo