was a sobfest for me.
It was actually worse than Father's Day- I only cried twice on Father's Day. I think the reason behind it is this : I can't remember my Dad's recipe for ice cream. I can still see his hands wiping the rock salt off the ice cream container as it chruned on the back porch, throwing the bags of ice on the deck and pounding them with the flat side of an axe to crush the ice, bringing the container inside when it was frozen and placing the container in the sink. Pulling out the whisk that was inside the container, and even which spatula he always used to scrape the ice cream off that whisk. The one with the whtie handle and an off white rubber head.
But I can't remember the recipe? Half and Half, milk, vanilla and what else? Eggs? He said he used to make it with eggs and cook it on the stove when we were little, but did he still use eggs? He didn't cook it first, I know that.
It just makes me feel like the worst daughter in the world. What else have I forgotten? Was I not paying enough attention? The entire time he was here, 24.5 years of my life, did I not listen to anything? It makes me wish I could reqwind time and record every moment with him on tape, so I can rewind to those moments when my memory fails me. Or to when I failed to listen closely. I can't even count the number of times we made ice cream together, and I still can't remember the recipe!
Dad was a good American, patriotic yet informed about politics and news. He took these pictures of Toddler C last year:
I didn't even make the girls dresses, like I did for Big Girl C last year. Why? Because Dad isn't here to say "Wow, I can't believe you made that! It looks like it could be from a store! You are getting so good at this." Other people compliment my sewing , but it isn't the same as a fathers approval. Then I cried because I started thinking Dad would have wanted me to make them dresses to celebrate the Fourth. And cried because we left late to go see fireworks, and got there in time but I didn't take a blanket for the girls to sit on . And cried because I forgot the baby bug spray for Toddler Girl C, so I just sprayed the adult spray on her shoes and shirt, and she got 4 or 5 bites anyway. Dad would have had that stuff packed in the car in the morning or afternoon, ready to roll.
The worst part? We had store bought ice cream, which sucks because Dad didn't make it.