Dana Burland

Right before Christmas I get this Tweet sent to me. Hey, I’m a Wall Street Journal reporter and would love to connect with you. Would you follow me back so we can message each other? I mean, I regularly wire the Prince of Albania $100 when he emails me asking for it, so why not connect with the WSJ reporter? (In actuality I did my research on her, and yeah, she’s in fact a WSJ staffer, and published author, and c’mon like you wouldn’t be very curious to know what in the world she wanted to talk to you about if you were in my shoes.) Turns out, this older Tweet of mine had gotten her attention: Nov 18, 2020 Happy holidays from all the wives who accidentally open their holiday present (which came via Amazon) from their husbands (who doesn’t use Twitter). She was writing a light-hearted story on how the pandemic has increased online gifting this year, and how that has made gift-giving tricky. She wanted to chat with me more about my experience for the article. So, on my first ...

You know that feeling when it’s just been A. Day. and you don’t feel like making dinner? There’s always Qdoba (again) but it’s not carry-out night, and why am I strict on one specific night for carry-out? Well, because I now hold on white-knuckle to simple routines in my life to feel like I have a degree of control as I combat a seemingly daily feeling the world is spinning off its axis. Wee! My friend Karen, who is living in a particularly unfortunate time to answer to that name, sent me a HelloHomeFreshChefWeCookYourDinnerBoxWhatever recipe that she received and especially loved. And if you want to know what life looks like in early January 2021, it’s me standing in my slippers in my lovely warm kitchen reviewing this recipe and thinking, Oh wow! I never thought you could cook ground turkey like that, Karen! mere moments before the US Capitol building is violently raided. Anyway. This Teriyaki Turkey Rice Bowl was easy, mindless and good. Remind me to make it again in a few y...

Step 1 : Find yourself in a global health pandemic where going out to a salon concerns you. Add a desire/interest you’ve always had, for some reason, to cut hair. Take a moment to congratulate yourself for not going wild with that always-had desire. It’s amazing how many Barbies, My Little Pony's, friend’s and sibling’s heads survived around me in my youth. Also one time I did trim my own hair, and at my next haircut appointment when the woman who had cut everyone in my family’s hair for 15+ years questioned me about it, I lied and said I didn’t cut it. Just wondering why I did that. I’m really sorry, Nikki. Step 2. Consider all the ways in which your perspective has shifted due to said global health pandemic. Does it really matter if this haircut turns out poorly in The Grand Scheme of Things? We’re all healthy, we figured out how to keep at it with big shifts to our finances , and we never ran out of toilet paper–I think we could work our way out of a bad hairdo. Step...

This was a hard year. A year I don’t particularly care to recap. So I won’t… truly. But at some point my memories will become hazy (or traumatically repressed!) and I’ll wonder. Here’s a little look at our 2020: We’ve largely been home–with extreme, only as necessary, regulations on where we’ll go out and who is allowed in–for 5 of the 12 months this year. Several significant family members have yet to meet A in person. He’s 1 now. Walking and babbling and cutting teeth at a rapid rate. It’s heartbreaking to think about family moments that have been missed. We did not have any major plans, milestones or moments canceled. We had a newborn at home, so 2020 was not a year we planned to be out and about much anyway. A friend’s May wedding we were invited to was canceled. The boys’ birthdays were small events held at home. We celebrated all the major winter holidays at home just the four of us–and we did ok. We never ran out of toilet paper, but we couldn’t always find it when we wante...

Look, I’m not going to tell you this was an amazing Christmas. It’s been almost two months since we’ve seen family or friends and we’re in a stretch of several days cooped up inside with two wonderful, but wild little boys. I’m feeling the weight of what we’re all missing–milestones and moments together, community and camaraderie, a breather from everything we’re blessed with. We did what we could though, and made some (albeit very isolated) memories I don’t want to forget–starting the week leading up to Christmas: We made gingerbread cookies from scratch, which made just enough for us and neighbor gifts C announced he’d like Santa to bring him maple syrup and a race car, which honestly sound like good gifts for just about anyone I made ⅓ of the Pioneer Woman’s Cinnamon Roll recipe , which still yielded 20 rolls! We wrote a letter to Santa with C. It was heavily focused on the aforementioned syrup and race car I made this Swedish meatball recipe for Christmas Eve, and it was SO goo...

Wow was the level of effort with our holiday card photo shoot HIGH this year. While B got ready I tried to set up the shot while fielding all the concerned “why?” questions from C and playing goalie to the tripod and extra lamp due to a speedy, grabby-handed A. I was quite pleasantly surprised with the entire gang’s level of participation. I snapped a slew of photos and had a couple contenders for the final card. I’m not super sure the theme we were going for came across though? The idea was me, gung-ho about matching family jammies, an idea B has always been adamantly *insert emoji with man crossing arms over his face* about. I think I needed a more thrilled, “hey, check out what I got for us!” face. Ah well. Funny side note: C was SUPER concerned about why Daddy wasn’t in the jammies, and emotionally distraught over Daddy’s fake sad face. I can’t hang our card on our fridge because I know seeing it again will worry him. Sweet boy. Here’s a take-away for next year: this spot suck...

How big is too big to not be little anymore? You, my little one, are one year old now. And you’re not so little. You in fact are full of big, face-stretching smiles; loads of agility and grace; depths of patience. You’re sturdy, steady and sure of yourself. A year ago, three weeks/five days and two holidays ahead of your due date, we were in the hospital preparing to meet you. We were visited by a NICU nurse who said your early arrival could come with complications. She might need to intervene quickly, she warned us, as your lungs might not be ready yet. You might be too little. But little one, you were just right. Big enough that when you arrived, right after noon on a wildly warm Saturday in December, so many surprising days ahead of when you were expected, the NICU nurse took one look at you and bowed right out of the room. You were sturdy, steady and sure of yourself. Now I can feel your littleness as I squeeze you tight in my arms and I see your bigness in your boldn...