Welcome all to the very first Turn Noun For What?! (TNFW) April Edition, this time featuring the noun everyone loves: Bacon.
My Nana has the best bacon recipe she has ever shared with me. Place aluminum foil on a baking sheet, spread out the pieces of bacon and paint some maple syrup on top. Bake in the oven for however long you want, and continue painting it with maple syrup. It’s delicious, and it doesn’t leave that gross, greasy splattered mess all over your stove. Unless of course you love bacon so much you lick the grease off the stove. I don’t know you…I won’t judge.
Breakfast is not an easy meal to make. It took me several tries to eventually make it successfully, with everything from the eggs, vegetables, hash browns and bacon to be ready at the exact same time. I watch Sam make breakfast, and he still struggles (though he will argue with me on that). He races around our cardboard box of a kitchen, placing frying pans with food still in them on our tiled counter, and then he can’t find the oven mitts, and he might have burned the eggs, and so forth. I recently read a post….actually several posts about domesticity. For some, it’s not for them.
I didn’t necessarily grow up in a house filled with domestic pancake making, cookie baking, and a house cleaning life. My mother was a working mom, and she was good at it. I got a slice of pure domestic life when I went to my Nana’s and she made me a bowl of vanilla ice cream with sugar soaked strawberries on top. Her floor didn’t have one crumb on it, and there were always fresh cookies, brownies, cake, pudding, anything you could think of, my Nana had it. But because I grew up outside of that, only getting a small taste of what some of my peers had their entire lives, I had this idea that I wanted nothing to do with domestic life. There was something off putting about it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but my mind was set. I wanted a full blown career. I wanted to be a working girl, like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl only without the hair.
After dating a few times, I had figured out what my issue was with domestic life. It seemed like it was something stamped in my DNA, something that was expected of me. I didn’t like having those certain expectations, especially when those expectations were at first assumptions.
“What do you mean you want to work when you raise kids?”
“Why are you so bad at cleaning?”
“You should learn to cook more.”
“Why would you consider daycare if you’re going to be home?”
These are all things I’ve heard throughout my life when it comes to growing older.
A few of the posts I have read were about being in long term relationships, and how boring married life must be crawling into bed, reading a book or watching the news after cleaning the house and cooking dinner, putting the kids to bed, etc. Of course, I can’t help but notice that these women writing these posts, whether it’s on Facebook, Twitter, WordPress, or Instagram, are below the age of 21. When I was under the age of 21, I stayed out late into the early morning, drank coffee and Redbull at 10pm, and had random spots of free time throughout the day to lounge around in my PJ’s and watch re-runs of Boy Meets World. I learned as you get older, domesticity is inevitable, whether you live alone or not.
The real world doesn’t offer random spots of free time. You leave for work at 8am, come home at 5pm, exercise if you can, and clean/cook most of the evening because you need to be able to survive before you can enjoy the rest of your evening. Constantly ordering take-out takes a toll on your body (that late night Domino’s was awesome back then, but not anymore). It just works out that way for most. Of course, if I were to live alone, I’d have a choice. I could leave my clothes all over the floor, the cat hair build up in the carpet, and the bacon grease splatters all over the stove, but I don’t because it’s gross. And since I don’t live alone, Sam would kill me if I did that.
There comes a time, typically, when you trade your heels in for a good book. You cave and buy glasses because sleeping in your contacts is no longer a silly accident, but now an expensive trip to the eye doctor. You trade the pizza eating 3x a week for an actual vegetable because you found out you gained ten pounds. You trade MTV for the 10 o’clock news because you find it more stimulating. The one thing I noticed about all of the anti-domestic posts included a man, and the idea of serving and courting them is what turns them off about married life. It isn’t about doing things for a man simply because he’s a man and you’re a woman. It’s about doing things for someone you love because you care for them, and vice versa.
Last weekend, after a quick phone call meeting with a couple of people from school, I woke up a little too early for a Saturday morning. I clicked off the phone, watered my snapdragons on my window, and tried to decide if I wanted to go back to sleep or make coffee. Instead, I decided to make breakfast. I cut up some asparagus spears, pulled out the egg carton, and spread the bacon out on the pan on the stove. The bacon popped, burning against my skin, and finally the whole apartment smelled of greasy pig fat. I opened the bedroom door knowing Sam was still sleeping. Once the bacon smell wafted into the bedroom up his nostrils, he came strolling in a happy camper because who doesn’t get happy over a bacon smell?
I’ve found myself enjoying the fact that I’m making Sam’s morning that much better by doing something as simple as making breakfast. Sometimes, he does it for me too. Neither of us expect it from one another which is what makes it so special. We are both equally busy. I do his laundry when he can’t get to it, and he does the dishes when I don’t have the time.
With that being said, no one should fear the domestic life. It doesn’t mean you won’t travel to Israel, skydive, or go snorkeling in the Caribbean. Preferences change as you age, and I’m perfectly okay with that.
Meet the other bloggers who have transformed bacon into something entirely their own!