danapop

I sure liked the Mardi Gras beads.

You know you’re getting older when your dream car becomes a Volvo XC70 and if you came across a pile of moolah you’d buy a front load washer and dryer set. But, I wasn’t always like this–so mapped out. Well, I was in how I grew up, as that was quite controlled with the path mostly laid, but once I broke out of my parents’ house the compass sort of went off kilter for a while.

I think this happens to a lot of children brought up in strict households once they leave home. They go buck effing wild. I’m incredibly thankful that, for me, this occurred pre-internet and youtube boom–but still, I know there are pictures floating around that would make it impossible for me to run for political office (if that was an aspiration of mine, which thankfully, it is not). Most are tame, maybe in the realm of Girls Gone Wild and whatnot, but cringe-worthy nonetheless.

It’s a period in my life that I’m not particularly proud of–about a six-year span (roughly 18 to 23ish). I sort of wish I could forget (parts of it, ironically, are very fuzzy), but I know those moments made me who I am today–the whole me. Never in my life have I been so off course and confused than I was during those years. In short, I was lost. September marks the start of many college freshmen settling into campus life, and potentially the start of the wander off the laid path.

(more…)

Leavenworth, Kansas circa 1800’s-Courtesy of the Command General Staff College of Ft. Leavenworth

When we visited Vancouver earlier this summer there was a chatty store owner talking to my mom, sister and I while we were shopping. She couldn’t fully comprehend how my sister could live in Maryland (she’s since moved to California), my mom in Kansas, and me in Georgia. None of it made sense to her. She kept asking why we didn’t live near each other–we all sort of struggled with an answer, but the easiest one was because of work. Which is true, but only partly.

There is something to be said about small towns. A quaint Main Street with boutiques, a past rich in history, where everyone knows your story. Leavenworth, Kansas, for me, is that place. Although we moved around quite a bit growing up, Leavenworth is (and likely will always be) home. It’s where my parents chose to set roots–where I attended school off of a military post for the first time, where I graduated high school, where friends I have known the longest live, and where my mother still is (with my brother and his family not too far either).

One of the oldest themes in everything from movies to music is the idea of leaving home. You know, putting the past town behind and starting fresh, in a new city. I did that. I left home almost a decade ago at 23 and haven’t returned much besides holiday visits and the occasional baby shower, hometown wedding, or milestone birthday celebration. I left my small town in Kansas in my rear view mirror for a job, which I’ve since also put in the rear view.

And while I look at my Leavenworth with fondness, I do feel a teeter-totter emotion of extreme complacency when I visit. When I go home I see the small town sadness and a desperation that is just not present in my life in Atlanta. Once I arrived here, I quickly came to the realization that I was a very small fish in a very large pond, especially compared to where I came from. I was nervous, scared shitless, excited and totally unprepared for the whirlwind of a life I would have here, those first few years.

(more…)

My father wanted to be a veterinarian. He was attending Oklahoma State University on a wrestling scholarship, which was one of the only means for him to pay for tuition. His grades weren’t exactly on par with what was expected of collegiate athletes, and what happened to boys flunking out of college in the late 1960s was a little thing called Vietnam. There, my father went from vet to vet. I’ve often wondered how different his life might’ve been had he been a vet of the animal doctor kind instead of the one holding heavy artillery in the Da Nang Delta.

So, it got me thinking about all those moments in life when you’re headed one way and before you can blink, a crossroads occurs. I heard about these a lot when I worked at CNN–the stories of people who were running late to work at the World Trade Center the morning of September 11, 2001, or tourists who barely missed the 2004 Asian Tsunami by coincidently checking out of their hotel within hours of it getting hit. Or horrific outcomes of circumstance like Daniel Pearl who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time asking too many questions. It thankfully turned out differently for The Christian Science Monitor’s Jill Carroll whose updates I followed religiously and have left me wondering now, how that period has changed her life perspective.

But, these acts are all around us, not just on the news. Everyday, to folks much like my father.

They are the weddings being called off countered with those being planned. The teeter-totter of life, or as I call them, the Sliding Door moments. You know, the movie where Gwyneth Paltrow gets fired (or in the movie, “sacked”), in one scenario she misses the train, in the other, she catches it only to find her boyfriend carrying on an affair. Life’s parallel shifts.
(more…)

The last thing in the world I wanted to have happen when I started this site was for it to stress me out.  Make no mistake; I think some level of stress and challenge in life is a good thing. In theory though, this was to be the arena for me to look the most forward to. And right now, if I’m being totally honest, it isn’t. Because this, alongside my other writing gigs, has gotten to be more than I can pull off, for now.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s partly because of this venue that I’ve managed to build up such solid work and for that, I’m very grateful. The full disclosure is this–at the beginning of the summer I went under contract to write a book–ghostwrite, and it, as you can imagine, is quite time consuming (and fantastic). I’ve juggled it thus far, but currently feel I’m not doing anyone any favors (other clients, dog, husband, family, and dirty dishes in the sink included) keeping this pace and this crazed look in my eye.

I always said that when I had my own company I would never want the work to suffer, any part of it. So, I’m slowing down. I’m trying a new format here with once-a-week-postings to publish on Tuesdays. I’d rather publish less often, but let the standard still be there than to go on pretending I’m not checking it off my mental list of articles to write in a week.

Like most changes in life, it’s bittersweet–on one hand I’m hoping it’s temporary, on the other, thrilled at the reality of being so busy at something I created. Until then, continue to enjoy reading, just at a less frantic pace.

Here’s to filling the cup, but not letting it run over.

It recently dawned on me that I don’t write much about my marriage. I mean, I feel like at this point, you know quite a bit about my family (brother, sister, twin, mom and dad, and a bit about my extend family on my husband’s side), but not so much about my husband  – our life and marriage – and I want to talk about that.

But, oddly enough, in order to do that, I have to begin with my first twin – my birth twin…my sister, because figuratively, the second twin in my life is my husband, which I’ll get to later.

My mother found out in her seventh month of pregnancy that she was expecting twins; can you imagine learning that you had just T minus two months to prepare for dos bambinos…in addition to the six-year-old and four-year-old already at home and a husband who was often away on business…and all without a housekeeper, nanny or BlackBerry – my, oh my, how did women do it then? They must have been made of stronger stuff than me, I think I would pass out on the spot.

But, mine not only did it, she did it well. We’ve all grown up to become semi-productive members of society – no criminal records, tattoos, illegal addictions – no judgment if you have any of these, but in my family, any of the aforementioned would’ve been a major faux pas and likely cause years of the silent treatment. So, job well done there, I suppose.

One of the most common life questions I get is – what is it like to be a twin? The simple answer is – I love it, but it’s all I know. For all I know, I’m sitting here this whole time thinking that having a twin sister is fabulous, but really it’s horrible and my non-twin friends feel sorry for me (just a thought).  But it just is. I love her and know her likely more than anyone else on this planet (barring her boyfriend). And vice versa.

The more complex answer is that being a twin and having a partner is so ingrained into my identity as a person – one doesn’t go without the other. I’ve never truly been alone in my life because of this. We aren’t geographically close, but I’ve never flown truly solo or felt like I was going at anything without her full support. She keeps me sane, balanced and calls me out when I need to be called out. I’d like to think I do the same.

I equate marriage to twinship. I looked for a partner that would be with me no matter what, and in return, I’d do the same. That said I always knew that my mate for life and love would know me like my twin. And he does.

(more…)

This was a piece originally posted in April, but I find it only fitting to repost. Rest in peace, MJ. And thank you, for one of the greatest nights of my life. xoox, from danapop to the King of Pop.

Growing up, music was always a pretty big deal in our house (um hello Bruce Springsteen garage door). I remember slumber parties my twin and I hosted where we were embarrassed by my father’s wake up call – usually Stevie Wonder or Rod Stewart blaring through the Bose speakers in the living room at 7 am. Not fun after a night spent gossiping about boys and stuffing ourselves with soda and Pizza Hut and definitely not cool either.

Since music was such an enormous part of our life, it’s no surprise that my first concert would have an amazing back-story. The biggest concert of the year, hands down in 1984 was when Michael Jackson toured with his brothers in what was called The Victory Tour. The first stop of the tour was – you guessed it – Kansas City, Missouri and us folks in the Heartland were such big fans that they had to schedule three performances. You must remember this was at the absolute height of Michael’s career; back when MTV actually aired videos and would show Thriller in its half-hour entirety. All us kids were cuckoo for cocoa puffs over Michael Jackson.
(more…)

Whether you call them toxic friends or frenemies (the latest amalgamated word), there’s no denying that some relationships are loaded with destructive drama that leave us feeling overall worse, rather than better, about ourselves. As Gwyneth Paltrow put it so eloquently (har har) in her recent GOOP newsletter, these are those “frenemies, hell bent on taking us down.”

For most of my adult life, the e.e. Cummings poem, Let it Go has been one of my favorites. My very loose (and incredibly simplified) interpretation of it is that when you let go of the gunk, in comes the good. Cummings is specifically speaking of relationships, which intrigues me because one of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is letting go, particularly, letting go of friendships that are on life support. (more…)

It’s summertime and for most American families that heralds a vacation together as a collective unit. Growing up, we weren’t exactly a vacation kind of family. I can remember only two honest-to-goodness true vacations with all six of us Hazels. One was in 1987 to attend the Pan American Games in Indianapolis, Indiana (and if memory serves, we only really went because my father knew the wrestling coach for the American team).

Even so, I loved the poster I picked up from the games – it hung on my bedroom wall throughout my adolescence…I loved the colors and simple design of the X’s.

The other was between my Junior and Senior year of high school. In retrospect, I’m fairly certain this vacation was my mother’s brainchild because her own children were just about to fly the nest. We went white-water rafting on the White River somewhere in Missouri. It was really more like molasses than white water with its gentle flow, but fun, nonetheless.

So, how ironic that I should marry into a family who could give the Griswold’s a run for their money in the vacation department? My husband’s family, now they vacation. Like clockwork, my father-in-law would load the entire family (some years this included three kids and a Labrador Retriever) into the wood-paneled station wagon and set out from Cincinnati bound for Myrtle Beach, South Carolina where they’d proceed to car camp for two weeks. Oh and did I mention they had a pop up camper? Now, these are folks that vacation.

(more…)

Today concludes the five-part series on motherhood. To see past articles or full panel disclosure, click here. This piece was such an amazing one to write and I cannot thank the participants enough for both their time and candor. Here’s hoping for the loveliest of mother’s days…

dp Names say so much. I think naming a child would be incredibly hard – how did you and your husband choose the names of your kids?

Mommy A I was pretty adamant on giving my children middle names that honored my parents. I felt it important because of my parents’ cultural belief to have our family name passed on. Since I could not pass on my last name in the most traditional manner, I chose to include a Korean name as a middle name. Plus, once I had children, I really started to understand cultural beliefs or practices that insist on same race marriages. I realized that my children have the potential of having blonde hair, blue-eyed babies. By the time my grandchildren have children, all of the Korean will be gone! This thought kind of makes me sad. There will be no more of my parents left in the bloodline.

(more…)

It’s day four in our five-part series on motherhood. To see past entries and full details on the amazing panelists click here.

dp Did you find out your child’s gender while you were pregnant? Did you try to predict? Were you correct?

Mommy E Yes – we just found out we are having a boy, and are so excited!  This was one of the discussions that was agreed upon before even getting pregnant. My husband is a planner and wanted to know!  I could go either way, so maybe in the future we could keep it a surprise. Because I have been having such an easy time with pregnancy, I was feeling boy at first, but was also very partial to having a girl. I am so excited for the outcome, but either way I think we would have won the lottery.

(more…)

It’s the third part of our motherhood series. Click here for a full scope of the participating panelists.

dp For those of you with mixed gendered children, is there an easier sex to raise – girls or boys?

Mommy D Boys seem to be easier emotionally, but they are much noisier. Girls tend to be more emotional and dramatic.

(more…)

The motherhood series continues. Click here to see the full stats on the panelists.

dp In your opinion, how has child rearing through the years changed?

Mommy A There’s a lot that has changed. Spanking is controversial. If you spank your children, it’s because you’ve lost control and are an ineffective parent. There’s too much coddling and not enough discipline. I read a book by Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture, and he wrote of the way parents and teachers are afraid to give honest feedback to their children and students. Everyone is great at everything. This leads to an inability to accurately assess one’s self and ultimately stunts the growth, development, and learning of an individual. Children today are getting away with so much more than I did as a child.

(more…)

I’ve had the privilege and joy over the last few years of seeing some of my closest friends as well as my sister and sister-in-law become mothers. It’s made me realize that for as many hats as we women wear, being a mother appears to be, quite possibly, the toughest.

That has made me think more often of motherhood in general and my own relationship with mine. I can’t say I’ve ever written a letter to my mother. Sure, emails. Sure, lengthy telephone conversations with both of us carrying on about nothing in particular. But, an honest to goodness pen to paper letter – not so much. If I were to write her, I’d likely start with a simple thank you and then express my gratitude for her nurturing and her patience throughout my life (not counting the few late high school/early college years where we couldn’t stomach the sight of each other).

In honor of mother’s day, I’ve conducted a sociological experiment of sorts. Below is the beginning of a five-part series that I’ll be posting throughout the week. I interviewed nine women – eight of whom are mothers and one who is just about to be. Each gave me such amazing honesty and insight and they made this piece what it is; and for that, I am humbled. This article reflects their caring, their time and their generosity.

Happy Mother’s Day, a five-day tribute.

Editor’s note
While I chose to not to interview my own mother here in the interest of journalistic distance, it should be noted that all photos in the series are of her and are some of my favorites.
(more…)

My relationship with lists has been duly noted (see Daisy Princess Paperie). I make lists for lists…or to steal a line from my twin sister and her boyfriend that they stole from some Cameron Diaz movie – making a plan to make a plan. With age comes acceptance and as I grow older, I’m trying (honest) to truly embrace the Type-A that I am. And every once in a while a product comes along that leapfrogs my military-precision organization skills to a whole other level – that product is The Life Library.

I recently interviewed its creator, Jean Martin. Here’s what she had to say:
(more…)

Oh snap, it broke – my awesome black and white striped two-piece Target swimsuit. Just after I’d strutted out in that little number and bent down to set my towel out – did the ‘fraidy cat arch and kerpow – it exploded. There I was – stranded like a beached whale, flip flopping – not knowing which way to turn. All because I was seduced by a cute, inexpensive little number on those siren-song racks at Target.

Talk about mortified. Talk about oh shizz. I just busted out of my bikini top! Do I even tell my husband? Will he look at me different? But I have to, because I need his shirt to cover up while I scurry back to the condo to inventory the damage.
(more…)