BACON

We interrupt our regularly scheduled “Myrtle Beach, Part 456” update to bring you the following.




To all the women out there (woman to Danielle) who not only make the bacon, but bring it home too, this post is for you.



My child gets kisses, hugs, attention and love. I may not be able to do it in person all day long, but she knows that when we are apart, I still love her more than anything in this world.



My child goes to zoos, parks, classes, and activities with me. We do them after 5 p.m. on weekdays and on weekends. And, that’s ok. It’s all right that I don’t take her to Gyminee Crickets on Tuesdays at 10:30 a.m., because I’ll just take her to Music Together on Sundays at 4:15 p.m. And we are fine.



My house is clean, my meals are home cooked, my rugs are vacuumed.

My toes are pedicured, my hair is cut, and my briefcase is full.

I am a housewife and a working mother. I stress, I hurry, and I rush, just like every woman in this world. I multitask, and I get it all done. Eventually.



My child has friends and a social life. She likes to go to playdates and understands that Mom will be back later. She makes friends easily. She’s confident and independent.



And I have friends and a social life. I go to work and I make the best of it. Even if it’s tough to leave in the mornings, I know I’ll be back later on. I run when I can. I enjoy Thursday Wine Nights.



I refuse to feel guilty for this. I refuse to listen to people who tell me that on my deathbed I’ll never say, “Gee I wish I worked more,” because, at this point in the game, if I gave up my career, my salary, and everything that I would have to sacrifice as a result of that, I think I might just utter those words on my deathbed. And every time I found myself mopping the floors on a random Wednesday, screaming at my kids to stop fighting, checking on the crock pot of whatever I am serving for dinner. Not all women are hardwired to be the same type of mother. Not all women want to quit their jobs to stay home with their children. It doesn’t make us bad people. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have had children. I spent the two thirds of my life learning and educating so that I could use those skills to live. I spent my 20s paying off school loans. I break my back each month to add to a college fund for my daughter so that she will get an education.


And why should it mean that because I want to use my education and have a career that I can't also have a family?  Why must I choose? 

I want to do it all. I want to be a mom, and I want to have a career. I want to be a woman and have friends and a social life.  I want to be a wife to my husband.  I want to wipe tears and write reports. And I can do that. I may have to work with a tighter schedule but I can still do it. And just because I may employ outside childcare, and she may spend more time with my husband than she does with me, it doesn’t mean that I love her less than a stay at home mom or that I am doing her any disservice.



I make that bacon. I bring home that bacon.  I cook it, serve it, wrap up leftovers, and clean up that bacon pan. I do it all, and I do it well. And I’m not going to let those who do it different affect the way that I do it.



I kick that bacon’s ass.
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The People In Our Neighborhood: Jo Ellen (And a Giveaway!)

Today's post features my friend Jo Ellen.  She has been a very good friend since college.  Instead of getting her words for the first part of this post, I am going to write about her.  And then, since she is such a nice person, she has offered to host our Giveaway this week.  Which I am really excited about!

So, Jo. That's what I call her.  First off, it took my husband a good five years not to give me the hairy eyeball when I mentioned "my good friend Jo."  Since, well, he thought Jo was a boy.  But, Jo is definately not a boy.

Jo may also kill me for posting this picture.

I don't care.

I met Jo the summer after sophomore year of college when we subletted rooms on opposite sides of a duplex near Boston.  She's originally from Cordova, Alaska, and one of the things that I admire most about Jo is that she's a little off--quirky is what I call it--and she knows it, and she embraces it, and she doesn't give a crap what anyone thinks about it. 

Jo is Jo, and she's true blue.

What Jo doesn't know is that she is responsible for keeping me in college Junior year.  You see, second semester Junior year, my roommate and best friend, along with a few other good friends of mine, went to study abroad.  A stranger moved into my apartment, and I found myself spending a lot of time alone.  I stopped going to my sorority house, stopped hanging out with my other friends, and just pretty much stuck to going to class and then going home.  I was incredibly lonely and probably a little depressed. 

Now, I'm going to tell you something that may shock you.  Especially you, Dad.  So, I would like you to just be prepared and understand that it happened a long time ago and your perfect, rule abiding girl Dana would NEVER do something like this now.

Right around the time that my close friends went to study abroad, I happened across a fake id.  The specifics are not important, ok?  I am telling you this because it's pertinent to the story.  Jo turned 21 a few weeks after the semester started, and, since most of our friends were still 20 (uh, like me), and most of our friends did not have a fake id (unlike me), Jo and I started going to this one bar next to my apartment to hang out and have a drink (or seven).  We had a lot in common, like our love of film and tv, and it was nice to have someone to be able to talk to and hang out with and just be myself with.

Now, if you think this is the part where I go into my brief, yet torrid foray as a college lesbian, stop right there!  This is a PG blog, and also, that never happened.  Jo and I just became really good friends, and I was so happy to have someone that I clicked with.  She got me out of my funk, and convinced me that I liked being at school and wanted to stay there.  Once my friends returned to BU senior year, I introduced them to Jo and we all became close. 

Over the years, Jo and I fall in and out of each other's lives, but we always are able to pick up right where we left off.  These days she makes her home in Minnesota with her husband Nate and her mentally unstable cat Ren.  She just launched her new business and is nice enough to giveaway a piece of gorgeous jewelry to one of my readers, along with a discount offer to anyone who wants to purchase anything!

I own a piece of her jewelry and I can attest that her stuff is gorgeous.  I hope you feel the same.  I'm going to turn over this post to Jo, who has written some words about the Giveaway.  If you'd like to enter, all you need to do is post your name and email address in the comments.

I'll leave this contest open until Friday, May 14th.  I urge you all to take a look at Jo's site.  If you don't go for the jewelry, go for the photography.  Or just go for Jo.  She's uh, what's the word?  Oh yeah, quirky. 

I mean, really, who gets married at the Mall of America? 

Jo.

“Sky-Blue Hearts” features freshwater pearls and hand cut blue-green apatite beads dangling from a delicate chain of heart-shaped links. Plus, I’ve topped it off with a sassy, yet sweet, arrow and heart focal encasing a matching pearl. I only used sterling silver throughout—from the chain to the clasp to the wire—so it’s appropriate even for those with common metal sensitivities. It measures a tad over 7”, but those with smaller wrists can easily adjust the length.

I’ll be adding one of these bracelets to the Codependent Kitty Creations Etsy site the week of May 16th when I launch my summer collection. Price: $32. But I’m so excited you’ll be giving one away to one of your lucky readers!

Plus, I’ve decided to give your blog readers a FREE pair of simple dangle earrings from my summer collection with any purchase of $15 or more from http://www.codependentkitty.com/ between May 16th and June 15th. (But, only if they mention your name when they place their orders. Hey, I gotta have a way to keep out the riff-raff.)

Ok folks, so there you go!  Post your name and email address in the comments section and I'll pick a winner on Friday.  Also, please visit Jo's site and don't forget to mention DeenutsDana when placing your order!
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First Day

I went to Boston University.

If it sounds like I'm bragging, I probably am.  You spend your junior and senior years of high school taking AP classes and summer college courses so you can get in to BU, and then graduate from BU cum laude in 4 years and tell me if you feel like bragging.  These days, I pass time telling a little girl to "push out the pee into the potty" so I like to wax poetic about the good ole' days.  Forgive.

Ahem.

Growing up, my parents were very strict with me.  I was not permitted to do a lot of things that many kids took for granted.  I couldn't go to the mall alone with my friends.  Wasn't allowed to go to the diner after work with co-workers.  I think that they would have referred to their parenting technique as more "over-protective" than strict, but call it what you will, I was sheltered.


When it came time to apply to college, I knew that this was my chance to get out.  Get some freedom and do it under the guise of higher learning.  So, I applied to colleges that were out of state.  Still on the east coast, but far enough so that my parents couldn't just drop in.

The minute I saw the brochure for Boston University, I knew I would go there.  I didn't even care about any other schools that I applied to, because I was going to BU.  And, once I was accepted, I thought of nothing much more than the blessed day that I could finally move in.

People talk about dorms and how small and ugly and institutional they tend to be, but I did not give a flying fig about that.  To me, a dorm represented my chance to live on my own and make my own decisions, all with the added bonus of a buffet-style meal plan.  It sounded too good to be true.  (Ed. note: it was.  For the record, one should not be offered a buffet at every meal. I wish my high school had offered AP Self Restraint.)

So, you can imagine my surprise when, after I said goodbye to my parents and watched them walk down the hall to the elevator, I began to cry.  And not tears of joy...well, maybe a little.   These were tears for an event that was so anticipated, wanted, and planned, and then was finally happening.  And I was emotional. 

I cried those same tears when Dr. Sullivan told me to begin pushing when I was in labor.


It's hard to explain those tears.  They are not for joy, but they are.  They are not for sadness, but they are.  They are for a new experience, an anticipated event, a scary and exciting adventure.

And for suddenly understanding what the two people who had given me the opportunity to go to the college of my dreams were feeling at that exact moment.  For realizing how difficult it must have been to let go of something that you had spent the last 17 years holding so close.

I will feel that feeling again in 16 years, when Greg and I drop Leah off at BU.

And, this, by the way, is not up for discussion.  That's where she's going.
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