Valentine's Day for Married People

Student: "Coach Schrater, what do you think Cody will get you for Valentine's Day?

Me: Probably some flowers and whatever random stuff he can come up with beyond that.

Student: “Don’t you think it will be something extra special since it’s your first Valentine’s Day married?

Me: No.

This conversation took place this morning in the midst of my kids repeating the weather forecast ten times within a forty-five minute class period. When I immediately assumed that there would be nothing special happen for Valentine’s Day this year, I realized Cody and I have done a pretty sub-par job of being extra sweet in our first year of marriage. We are seven-ish months into marriage at this point. But perhaps more importantly, we are very near six years of being in a relationship. I always wonder what it would be like if we would have gotten married sooner. I see couples who get married who have been together maybe a year or two and I can tell that their dynamic is different than mine and Cody’s. Nonetheless, I still think that Cody and I have done a less than great job at making our first year of marriage special. We are pretty much in the routine of work, hang out, sleep, work, hang out, sleep. We throw in an occasional movie or television show. Nothing too crazy.

I think I have always known that this type of routine is inevitable in any relationship. And my mom always told me, soak up all the good stuff that Cody does for you now, because once you’re married, it will all end. And as is the case most often, my mom is right. Things are pretty boring in the Prater household. I would like to argue that we do have an awesome trip planned this summer which is very noteworthy. I would also like to make note that our routine is very comforting and calming to me. I would also like to go out on a limb and assume that Cody would argue that he doesn’t do sweet, ridiculously nauseating things for me anymore, because “you don’t like surprises” or “you would rather plan it anyway.” While these things are both true, I sometimes miss the days when Cody didn’t know I don’t like surprises and hadn’t accepted my need for control of every tiny detail of my daily life. I appreciated the Cody who used to be wide-eyed and crazy in love to the point of risking embarrassment for me. My most beloved Valentine’s Day involved Cody writing a poem (“I Carry Your Heart With Me” by e.e. cummings) in sidewalk chalk from my apartment door to the campus center at school where a huge pink sign hung reading: “Katy Schrodt, will you be my Valentine?” I melted. I knew he loved me. I just knew it.

So, I have come to this conclusion. I am probably partly to blame for Cody’s lack of really sweet things like he used to do. I realize that I am hard to please for a guy like Cody who never thinks of all of the details that need to be ironed out. I also tell myself that I have probably broken Cody’s will to be sweet anymore, because he knows that when he screws stuff up, I’ll complain. Nonetheless, I am making a vow today to be sweet for the remainder of February (screw March). Not because Valentine’s Day is coming up, but mainly because it’s the shortest month anyway and we’re already on the 8th day. I am going to do something sweet for Cody for the rest of these days. It may be a very small gesture. It may be something that Cody doesn’t even realize (I contend that I do Cody’s laundry on a regular basis and cook meals much more often than he does which are both sweet), but I will still do them. I am going to start with a list of all of the reasons I still and always will love CP…

1. He takes out the garbage.
2. He is responsible for paying the majority of the bills we have.
3. He looks really good naked.
4. He wants to go to Europe with me and let me plan and over plan and plan again every moment of every day we’re there.
5. He helps take care of the dogs.
6. He comes to all the volleyball games I coach.

Okay, I am sure there are more, but that’s as far as I got. That’s a really lame list of reasons why I love him. I’ll keep working on this. And until then, here’s a throwback to a much simpler moment in time. I plan to reenlist the 19 year old kid who slowly walked to class that day trying to pretend that she wasn’t head over heels in love with the crazy guy who took the time to write a love poem on a sidewalk. May I always love the crazy guy…and may he always want to write love poems on sidewalks. For me.

I carry your heart

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
My heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
By only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear
No fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
No world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
And whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
Higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

Tennis Shoes to Cow Poo

Okay, so I have a confession. If there was ever a dream of mine, it would be to be a writer. Like a I-make-money-by-writing-random-thoughts-that-come-to-my-mind-in-a-witty-irresistible-style-that-everyone-loves writer. I am intrigued by any “job” that doesn’t require you to answer to a boss or show up at a specific time of day. I want a job like that so badly. So, one of the things I do in my spare time occasionally is read blogs or books of people who are obviously in the aforementioned category of writer. I want to know what they do that allows them to be a writer.

My most recent research project has been the one and only Pioneer Woman. I have heard people (i.e. Katie) talk about the PW before. I have even cooked (gasp, I know) a few of her recipes that have been quite delicious. I have even just recently purchased her most recent book Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. I have read her writing. I appreciate the way she writes and I can recognize why people everywhere would be attracted to it. I think it’s a little cheesy for my taste, but to each his…her own.

Anyway, I am on page 62 in her book which recounts her magical, fairtytale-ish love story of her and Marlboro Man..I’m not sure about the nickname for her husband quite yet…again, a little cheesy. Anyhow, I have read about the PW and her graduation from college and unlikely meeting with Marlboro Man thereafter. I have lived through the first kiss and silly moments between the two of them. I have muddled through the cute, sweet, irresistible beginning of these two people. And sure enough, I found myself sucked in. I was suddenly trying to recount my steps with Cody in those early years of our relationship. I was panicking that I didn’t run over my dog and fall into Cody’s rough, calloused cowboy hands. I was certain that without a chance encounter in a smoky bar and my making a fool of myself in so many ways around Cody years ago, we didn’t stand a chance.

So, I decided only a few moments ago that I wanted to put a face or at least a profile of a face to this Marlboro Man. From the PW’s description I had created some smoldering, delicious man who I would undoubtedly see and suddenly understand all of the to-do over her love story. I visited her website to find that she furthers the mystery of the Marlboro Man by never showing his face exactly. So I bypassed all of the hoops of her blog and googled the guy. As I sat here looking at all of the pictures of this guy, I realized I have nothing to worry about. Cody is my Marlboro Man if the magical man for the PW is the guy in the pictures without the hat and Wrangler’s on. I don’t even like Wrangler’s. And the guys is not as good looking as the person I had created in my head after reading the book. And then I realized what has happened…

The success of The Pioneer Woman is not because her husband is super hot and that her life is so thrilling that she could write any tiny thing about her existence and it would be a hit. The success of this chick comes from the fact that she’s a writer. A person who understands who’s she’s writing to and tailors those words for every sappy woman who ever dreamt of marrying someone unexpected and being swept off their feet in the world of unknown comfort simply because he is there. So, here’s to you Pioneer Woman. For getting me to buy your book and google your husband. And for getting me to appreciate the guy that I have in my life. And for writing a blog that makes you tons and tons and tons of money. Perhaps one day I will find my niche the same way the PW has done.

But I have to sayI hope I don’t have to move to the country and start cooking to make my dream a reality. Tennis Shoes to Cow Poo doesn’t really have the same ring anyway.