The Train Home

After dropping our daughter (and grand-kitty!) off for her train back to the city, I thought about how she’s really returning home. When she comes “home” to visit, it’s just that - a visit. New York City is her home now. 

She has created her own way there - her routine, her new life. She has a job. She has a sweet apartment in the Lower East Side. She has a new roommate and a group of friends she met only after moving there. She has her bagel shop, her coffee spot, her grocery store, her gym, her park, and her walk to work. And, thankfully, she has her Uncles less than a mile away.

While bursting with pride for her accomplishments, it signifies a shift in our relationship. No longer is she the young daughter who looks to us for guidance on what to think; she now has her own opinions on everything from social justice to mental health to the patriarchy - and strong ones at that! 

I imagine her visits here are as confusing for her (an adult child back in her childhood bedroom) as they are for us. It has absolutely changed the dynamic of our relationship and both of us are working hard to navigate what that looks like. It might involve some complex interactions but always ends up in a good and better place. 

At the end of it all, she’s doing exactly what we raised her to do - to work hard and play hard, and to be an independent, productive, caring and kind citizen. But I hope she knows…this, too, will always be her home.

Peace on the Harbor

This is us, sneaking away after the madness of the holidays to get some quiet time on Winter Harbor in Mathews, a tiny and very quaint town on the Middle Peninsula of Virginia. Bert discovered a sweet spot of land here three years ago. We wanted to build but the entire peninsula is essentially wetlands and it is expensive and potentially damaging to do so.

The next best thing? Finding a 100+ year old farmhouse on the water that has been lovingly restored. Who needs to build when you can find a piece of beauty like this?! We found it, bid on it, and closed in only four weeks.

The call of the waterfowl, the rush of the lapping tide, the color of the setting sun… we have found our new peace at Morningside.

Cocktails with kids

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We celebrated over the holidays with our kids - all adults now, if you consider 18 actually an adult. Bloodies and mimosas on Christmas morning, and other celebrations throughout New Years. It's a strange thing when you finally can enjoy a cocktail with your kids. You shift from the disciplinarian to the drinking buddy, which does bring some challenges and fuzzy guidelines/house rules. 

Enjoying the Christmas spirit(s)

I remember well making that transition with my parents - my Dad, in particular. Dad took his cocktails seriously. He mixed them purely (only homemade simple syrup and freshly squeezed juices) and quite strong. He said "If you don't like the taste of liquor, you shouldn't drink." Some of my most cherished mementos of Dad's are his daiquiri shaker, his cocktail recipe book, and an amazing retro traveling bar (to be highlighted in another blog another day).

The problem with enjoying a few drinks with your kids is that it portends implicit permission which is mostly okay but also a bit of a concern for those technically underage - read: college. But let's not pretend that college kids aren't imbibing. 

When you shift from locking up the liquor cabinet and not allowing them to swipe your beers from the beverage fridge to teaching them moderation, you've reached another phase of parenting. Further, it's difficult to teach moderation when you're not modeling it yourself - thank you, Covid. (This too is another blog for another day.)

At the end of the day, one doesn't need alcohol to have fun, but I like to think that enjoying a cocktail with one of my daughters or sons is, in some twisted way, an homage to my Dad.