A Secret to Success as a Working Mom: Turn Burn Out Into Bliss and Embrace Joy

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Last weekend my youngest was committed to going to the "Water Steps" a man-made water fall in Pittsburgh by the rivers. (Fun Fact: Three rivers converge in Pittsburgh--The Ohio River, The Monongahela River, and the Allegheny River.)  He kept asking. I knew he was serious when he said, "If you won't take me, I'll ask  daddy!" Given that it was highly unlikely that would happen on an unscheduled day, I relented. So, we went. It wasn’t planned in the way most things in my life are. No calendar block. No checklist. No “productive” purpose attached. And, so in some respects it was uncomfortable. And yet, it seemed necessary. It was the idea of my 8-year-old—offered with the kind of urgency only children possess when something is profoundly important to them.
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This Thanksgiving I want one more pound cake...

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Certain things remind me of the void in our family since the death of my grandmother earlier this year. As I attempt to make her pound cake this Thanksgiving, her absence is palpable.

I am nervous. I have never made her cake without her coaching. While I am an experienced baker, I always felt that I needed her to get it right. It was a family ritual to call my grandmother as we cooked. Since we were spread out all over the country, for some time, those calls made us seem closer. It was as if she was in my kitchen guiding me. As I make this cake, I am painfully aware that I will never speak to her or receive her guidance again.

Life is an evolution. I have matured into a contributor at Thanksgiving instead of merely a kid at the table. Also, my immediate family has elected to celebrate the holiday amongst ourselves instead of visiting my mother’s siblings. However, the more things change the more they stay the same. On Thursday, we will have pound cake.

However, in my heart, I know that even though I have all of the right ingredients, I am incapable of making my grandmother’s pound cake. That cake will always belong to her.

Now is a time for change. We must establish new traditions that retain the spirit of the old ones. I will make my own cake. I just hope that I am able to express as much love to my family through that cake as my grandmother always shared with us. However, no matter how good it tastes, I am certain that we will all be wishing that we could taste her cake one more time.

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