My husband and my daughter are spending some quality time together lately as I travel a bit for work. I always enjoyed the times I had my dad to myself and have always been fortunate to have a dad (and a dad-in-law) who are so supportive of me as a mom, a working mom and a daughter.
Some friends have mentioned to me over the years that their dads are, let’s just say, not so supportive. One working mom friend even told me that her father has made no bones about the fact that he thinks she should be staying home with her young children. This, she says, from the guy who paid for her to go to college.
It’s perplexing, and these dads who raised us in the seventies and eighties are probably in a funny place. Many of them have wives who stayed at home. No doubt nearly all of their mothers stayed at home. And yet, as women rose in the workplace they worked alongside them and eventually, had daughters.
What does your dad think of you, as a working mom? Has he always been supportive and encouraging? If your dad doesn’t approve of the path you’ve chosen, how do you feel about that? Does it bother you?
Dads, what do you hope for your daughters?
As I write this, a Gooey Butter Cake is baking in my oven. St. Louis fans of this blog know the stuff well and can bake it blind or simply pick one up at their neighborhood Schnuck’s or Dierberg’s. In Virginia, Gooey Butter Cake doesn’t exist, unless we make it ourselves. We’ve delighted the neighborhood with random gifts of Gooey Butter Cake and till now, kept the recipe a secret. You will be horrified by this recipe, full of fat and sugar, it’s just heaven on earth. Make it for a special occasion, or if you want to break your diet in style.
GOOEY BUTTER CAKE
One box yellow cake mix
1/2 cup melted butter (don’t cheat — use real butter)
One egg
Mix these ingredients and press into an ungreased 9″ x 13″ pan.
One small package cream cheese
Two eggs
One box powdered sugar (reserve a small amount to sprinkle on the top when done)
Mix thoroughly and pour over the top of the cake crust. Bake at 325 for 35 minutes.
THE CURE FOR PMS
If you’re REALLY having a tough day, substitute the yellow cake mix for chocolate and add 1/4 cup of cocoa to the powdered sugar mix.
You’re welcome. Let me know if you try it.
I arrived in London at 7am local time after not having slept the entire night. I was yearning for a venti latte and quick escape from the London Heathrow airport. I’d made friends on the plane with a young couple who were hanging out near the restroom, three sheets to the wind and headed for a safari in Africa. I met up with them again as we headed for the exit and the woman said to me, “Did you see who was behind us in Customs? Dr. Kovac from ER!” We joked, briefly about not even knowing if he was still on the show.
Admittedly, I hung back a bit to catch a glimpse, but also realizing I needed some local currency if I was going to get out of the airport and into London, I started searching for an ATM. By the way, 100 British pounds = $184. Ouch.
So I was standing at the ATM when I saw him: Dr. Kovac. And I had that moment of dang, how sad is it that I don’t even know his real name – I can’t very well say, “Hi Dr. Kovac! I love you on ER.” That would be dorky, even for me. So I smiled at him as he walked past in the way people do when they think they might recognize you but they’re not quite sure where they know you from. He smiled back in the same way, obviously because he was thinking, “Is that Geena Davis?”
Now, if it had only been the former Dr. Ross.
A quote from a book I’m reading; “Memory works as a constructive process that not only reproduces, but filters, changes, and interprets the past.” (The Year of Fog by Michelle Richmond.)
I’m filtering through my memories of my trip to India and London, choosing the stories to share and those to keep to myself. My camera broke at the beginning of the trip, so what I saw lives in my memory alone.
Some impressions: I really enjoyed India and was aware of how quickly I felt comfortable there. The cities I saw are beautiful despite crumbling buildings, overcrowded conditions with many people living on sidewalks and in shanty towns. I was surprised by a few unexpected sights: stray dogs everywhere (they all looked the same), the way even the poorest people wore clothes that were clean and mended and chipmunks that were plentiful and had the run of the Gandhi ashram.The women are some of the most beautiful in the world — truly stunning, and my colleague and I decided that the sari and the salwar kameez are the most perfect garments; flattering and made with gorgeous fabrics — if we were Indian, we would wear them all the time.
In London I was surprised that, despite the architecture, the currency, the accents and the left-side of the road driving, the city has much in common with New York city. There were moments when I felt like I could be in any big U.S. city with a Gap, several Starbucks, McDonald’s and other familiar U.S. sights. We went out of our way to experience London, though, touring about, visiting the National Gallery and eating fish and chips and shepherd’s pie for dinner.
I’m savoring my memories, now, and am ready for the next trip, eager for more adventure with new sights, sounds and surprises.
There were several surreal moments in India; I don’t even know where to start to share them, but here’s one that’s stuck with me and is relevant to this online space. We were having dinner in a Chinese restaurant (in India!) with our clients when suddenly one of them asked if I was still writing this blog.
My face turned red — I’m sure it did — as my brain scanned over the hundreds of posts here, thinking, what has he read? What have I written? I babbled something about my blogging history, not even doing justice to the time I’ve spent here, the committment to writing, the connections, friendships and real satisfaction I’ve gotten out of the creation and maintenance of this blog.
I finally recovered from the shock of realizing that yes, sometimes even clients google their consultants, (Hi Steve!) and learned that, this blog, after all is among the Top Ten most popular working mom blogs and that is not too shabby.
Now, if only I can return to unselfconsciously writing, all will be fine.
