So, come on over to the kid’s room at Dad’s House today and share your thoughts.

Thanks!

If you read our blogs, then you know that these lovely opportunities often come to us in the form of relationships.

This spring, One-Woman Show took “that FGO and wrangled it into a mixture of potting soil and deck stain.” In the end, she explains, “I at least had control over this.”

As for me, the Biologist and I clearly are not dating anymore. We’ve seen each other once since deciding to take a break. We had a sweet, yet subdued afternoon chat that day; and there have been a few pleasant phone calls, and that’s that.

So, recently — in a moment that was inspired by One-Woman Show’s FGO — I told my kid we needed to go to the local flower sale. Back at home, I “wrangled” this on our deck:

To be honest, Mae took over to do the actual planting. She loves to garden.

Every time come home, I can’t help but feel life unfolding. Thanks Susan!

Tell me: what’s one good thing you’re going to do for yourself this weekend?

It can be as simple as having a cup of tea in the sunshine. Or as complicated as sky diving over the edge of a mountain. Let’s hear it.

Actually, her exact words are: “You love your computer more than you love me.”

So, I asked Mae if she had any ideas, so I can pull myself away from this machine.

“Let’s make a video, Mommy. I’ll ask–”

P.S. Before you wonder if my kid has an upcoming dentist appointment, yes, she does. Before you guilt-trip me (I do it enough to myself, thank you), she brushes at least twice a day and flosses every night.

If you could have one dream advertiser — with monthly giveaways to all of you, who would it be?

We all know that Mae would choose Mike and Ike candy.

And you?… Your local spa? Godiva chocolate? Royal Caribbean Cruises?

When I call Gillian Clark, she’s at Colorado Kitchen in Washington D.C., just as her staff is getting ready to open. There’s a lot of bustling, and Gillian pauses on the phone to let an early customer know they’re not open yet.

I’ve just finished Gillian’s book, Out of the Frying Pan: A chef’s memoir of hot kitchens, single motherhood and the family meal and I’m thrilled to feature this go-gettin’ single mom on my blog. Gillian is the perfect example of a single mom who pursued her dreams — to become a successful chef and open her own restaurant — against the odds.

At age 32, following Gillian’s divorce from her alcoholic husband, she not only raised her two young daughters on her own, she left a career in marketing to enroll in culinary school. One of her first jobs was chopping carrots for minimum wage.

At the time, her daughters, Magalee and Sian, were just four and seven years old. Not only was Gillian balancing solo motherhood with cooking school, she was one of the oldest students in class. Her family, as well as strangers, let her know that becoming a chef while raising two children on your own might not be possible. But Gillian tried to block out their criticism.

“In the marketing and advertising industry, I never saw the result of my work,” says Gillian. “Also, the work was really zapping me. “That was really hard to explain to my mother.”

As a chef, Gillian could see her results — as well as how others appreciated her hard work. She describes food as “the most perfect form of love. It could be reliable, comforting, satisfying.”

Like many single parents, she says that she “wanted to prove I had the parenting skills as well as the drive to make them the children every parent wished they’d had. I wanted Magalee to perform a viola solo at every concert, and then get the lead in the school play. And Sian, she had to bring home the biggest magazine-cover pumpkin from the October field trip to the farm.”

“I remember one person who said she wouldn’t even think about doing this business and having children,” says Gillian. “But she’s not doing this anymore. And I’m still here.”

Moreover, her daughters could come to work with her after school. They did their homework and learned how to cook. “Also, I could duck out during the day and use my culinary talents as a chef. I always participated in school auctions, by offering dinners at the restaurants where I worked.”

The main thread of Gillian’s memoir is comparing the challenges of single motherhood to the brutalities of professional cooking. Whether you’re a single parent or running your own restaurant, “There is no room for faking or pretending.”

When I ask about male role models in her daughters’ lives, Gillians says: “You might lose your family the way you had it. But you can always recreate family.”

One male employee at Colorado Kitchen — whom Gillian describes as a very caring gay man — has become a “surrogate father” for her daughters. “They’ve given Father’s Day gifts. He always drove the girls to performances or took one girl if they had events at the same time.”

When I ask Gillian for an update about her daughters she says that Sian just turned 15 and is taking her high school finals. Magalee, 18, is home this summer from Oberlin College: “She’s blossoming as a chef in college. She just emailed me asking for recipes.”

(Magalee also claims that her East Indian chick pea soup is better than her mom’s because it “is a little more bold.”)

Gillian Clark’s words of advice for single parents?

“It’s really scary when you suddenly realize that everything you built is gone, and you have to start from scratch. But your kids always believe, they know you can do it. They don’t doubt you.”

Your turn: What’s your dream job? What does your fantasy career look like?

As for me, I love what I do. I would simply add a second book contract, a monthly column at Redbook, a movie deal…

Photo of Gillian Clark, with her daughters

This week, you’re graduating from second grade, and you know how gushy your mama gets around any rite of passage. Just after your second birthday, we said “goodbye” to New York City in order to come out west and shack up with Grandpa in San Francisco. You were such a little firecracker of a toddler.

Preschool started and you ran into the two-year-old room that first day in your favorite turquoise OshKosh hand-me-downs. (Later, you’d swap those overalls for your tutu.) You became a sculptor at school. You loved to say “Cheese!” in front of the camera.

Here you are, just two

Then, you started kindergarten at a school where you knew no other kids, and you were so brave that first day. You were cautious, too, always observing before speaking. Your teachers nurtured you, encouraged you to raise your hand, and over the past three years, you’ve opened up. I love seeing how self-confident you are: speaking Spanish, singing in the chorus, doing hip hop, begging me to have your friends over for play dates.

Here you are in kindergarten

Now look at you! Recently, during your rehearsals for the school play, you asked your drama teacher if you could introduce “The Lorax.” You go girl. I’m so proud of you!

It was a bit dark on stage when you got up there with your drama teacher, for the big introduction. Here’s the video, my Barbaloot Bear!

When I first moved back to the Bay Area six years ago this month, I was wedged between resentment and anger. I wasn’t what you’d call “a single mom by choice.” I hadn’t exactly chosen the “single” part.

Fortunately, I soon found two other local single moms — with daughters around Mae’s age — who have since become my “sisters.”

Siobhan owns a kids’ clothing store. The first time I saw Siobhan, her daughter was decked out in one of her mama’s hand-sewn cape with polka dots — and a matching hat. I spotted Arden and her daughter at a local swimming pool. I couldn’t stop staring at them: our girls are biracial, and looking at them was like looking in a mirror.

We swap kids if one of us has to run an errand (or go on a date!). We cook dinner with our girls once a week. But it’s more than that. We call each other or email almost every day. These women are my partners in a way. They’ve pulled me out of many “man holes.”

But I can count the times on one hand when we’ve gone out together — kid-free — in the past few years. One such night was a recent weekend, for a Bay Area awards night. Siobhan, who opened her kids’ clothing store the same year she had her daughter, was a finalist for the Oakland Indie Awards.

Siobhan runs an organic, fair trade, mama-powered shop on her own. My creative seamstress friend was up for “Innovator.” That says it all.

When I showed up to help Siobhan, I was wearing all-black. That wouldn’t do. In a flash, Siobhan found a skirt she’d just sewn, and I stepped into it. The only glitch was… the skirt was a tad too big.

Here we are — three single moms out for a night on the town. Although I do lose my skirt… you can’t see nothin’. Sorry!

Who’s in your “clan”? Who helps you get through the day?

Do you ever get to the chance to have a moms’ night out? Do tell.