This post was inspired by a conversation I had with a fellow blogger. You should check her out at We were talking about childhood dreams so I figured this Fearless Friday I’d tell you about “What I Want Wanted to be When I Grow Grew Up.”

I know, you’re probably kicking yourself right now thinking this was going to be about beer, but before you leave, stick around and read this. I promise, there will be beer.

My youngest memories are of my dream to be a mom. From taking care of my dolls to countless times babysitting, I was determined to one day have my own. I wanted 4, two boys and two girls named, Austin, Carrie, Sammie and Lucas. My mom was really into Days of Our Lives. I know I’m not the first little kids to play mommy to her dolls and name her future kids before she even knew where babies came from, but I took it to a whole new level. When my friends were begging for pets, I was asking my parents for a baby. I even gave them the classic line, “you won’t have to do anything, I’ll take care of it.” Once I moved out on my own and  was no longer a sufficient source of income, I took to befriending the neighborhood kids. Yes, I was that crazy lady neighbor with no kids of her own that gave your kids popsicles while I told them stories on my doorstep or watched movies in my living room. As a mom now, I can’t fathom why parents let their kids hang  in an apartment when a childless woman who they knew simply as #74.

At one point I wanted to be an astronaut but they said I was too short. Do you ever wonder who “they” are? My statute killed my space dreams, but once, I got to play Shirley Temple in a school project and how many people can say they successfully pulled off playing a six-year-old their Sophomore year of High School? Take that NASA!

I went through the typical childhood career aspirations, doctor, vet, daytime soap opera superstar…

Don’t leave yet, the beer is coming…

In Middle School I wanted to be a, umm, who am I kidding, in Middle School I wanted to be anything besides in Middle School.

In High School I thought I had my career plans set, I was going to be a teacher. I got most of my Core Classes done by my Junior year so my Senior year schedule consisted of Child Care, being a T.A. for two different teachers and spending half of my day student teaching at an elementary school off-site. I’d requested to be placed in a 5th grade class, I wanted to be the teacher to help gets kids ready for that big step into Middle School. I was beyond excited. Imagine my dismay when my first  in the classroom several of the boys hit on me. Talk about uncomfortable. I changed to working with Kindergartners and I loved it.

My first two terms of college were spent focusing on Early Childhood Education. When I got a job at Kindercare, I thought my life plans were falling into place. But, somewhere between the many illnesses, ruined clothing and tears when a kid moved realized my want to be a teacher was more about my desire to have and teach my own kids than to work with everyone else’s.

As years went on, I tried my hand at different jobs, quit school and started again. I made messes. Then before I could clean them up, I made more. So, here I am at 33 and I’m a mom. It’s the best job ever and I feel blessed to say I fulfilled a childhood dream, the one I wanted most of all. But, as my youngest child is getting ready to start Pre-School, I’m getting a second chance to find out what I want to be when I grow up. There are three things I’ve desired throughout my life that I haven’t told you about yet. So, here goes, my name is Deana and when I grow up I want to work with troubled youth, I want to be a lawyer and most of all, I want to be a writer.


Before I go there’s one more childhood dream I want to share with you. In fact, I think maybe I should have put it on my Bucket List because I still dream of doing it, at least for one day. I wanna be the “Beer Here” girl. When other kids were dreaming about being professional athletes raking in millions, I was aspiring to be in the nosebleeds of the stadium earning minimum wage, carrying a box by my neck while yelling, “beer here.” I kid you not, after seeing this take place at an NFL game I decided slinging beer at professional sporting events was my chosen career path. I was constantly working on getting my accent and tone perfect. I’m not sure which annoyed my parents more, me walking around yelling “beer here” in a terrible New York accent or more low career aspirations, but to be fair they never told I couldn’t be the “Beer Here” girl one day. See, I promised there’d be beer.