Hope Springs

Cody and I watched Hope Springs at the theater this past weekend. It's a movie about an older couple (Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones) who have lost the magic in their marriage. They visit a therapist (Steve Carrell) in a town called Hope Springs to try to find their way back to the way they were at the beginning of their lives together. At first, I didn't think much of our night at the movie. Cody wasn't too terribly interested in watching a movie about "old people", but he was a good sport nonetheless. By the end of our evening, Cody and I were both happy we had spent a couple of hours watching a movie in a theater that the average age had to be at least 70 years old. The more Cody and I talked about our night, the more we realized how our night at the movies was really a scientific study on the generational differences of people. Allow me to explain...

Cody and I got to the theater about 15 minutes before the movie was about to start. We never thought we would need to be there early, but were surprised at the number of people already in the theater. I should have known the oldsters would be early, seeing as they were already out way past their bedtime. I also heard numerous people remark on the price of "going to the show" these days. I am certain older people feel like our world is pretty much an alien planet in a lot of ways. An $8 movie ticket really is proposterous.

Once we sat down, I couldn't help but notice the woman behind me sucking on her teeth. I tried not to get too annoyed by it. It was definitely interesting background noise for the evening. Once the movie started, Cody and I were surprised at the incessant cell phones that rang throughout the entire night. We kept looking around with each ringing phone. No one even seemed remotely phased by the noise. I assume none of the moviegoers could actually hear the ringtones, or maybe old people have just accepted that phones ring everywhere these days. I don't think most old people even know how to put a phone on vibrate. My own parents insist on simply turning their phone completely off when they need it to be silent. It is exhausting.

Now, don't get me wrong. The ringing phones, teeth sucking, and "when I was young" talk certainly didn't dampen my movie night. I really enjoyed the movie and appreciated the overall message of the love story. I also had a lot of fun with the ever-ready laugh that the older movie watchers displayed throughout the night. It was like watching a movie with kids. Every line in the movie that was even remotely funny resulted in the entire theater in stitches. It was fun. It was how people should be when they get to spend a night at the movie. Older people just seem to be more appreciative of their life. It's something I wish I had more of.

As we were exiting the movie (very slowly by the way), I noticed that everyone seemed a little more at ease. There was no rushing to get out of the theater and there were lots of couples holding hands. As we walked toward the door, I overheard the woman in front of me tell the woman she had been sitting with that she wished "Jerry could have seen that show." I don't know why but I assumed Jerry was her husband. And naturally Jerry must have passed away recently. I guessed that maybe the woman was seeing a movie for the first time since her husband died. The friend with the woman didn't respond to the older woman's mention of Jerry. She simply took her hand in her own as they slowly walked down the steps of the theater.

So, what I assumed was a routine night at the movies ended up being quite the experience. As we drove home Saturday night, I realized that sometimes it's nice to be reminded to laugh a little easier and to hold hands with people you love and to have a little patience with people who have walked before you and to always put your phone on vibrate.

A Pity Party for Educators

Life as a teacher/coach for me is a bit hectic. I find myself fighting highs and lows of all sorts throughout the course of a school year and summer. Sure, summer is awesome. And time off for Spring Break and Christmas are pretty cool as well. However, I contend that the emotional despair I am forced to deal with every August as the new school year approaches may be worse than the time away from school is good. I know, I know. Those of you reading this who are non-educators are rolling your eyes. And I realize I should be thankful for the time off my job allows. But still, the return to school every August is like staring up the tallest mountain on God's green earth knowing that you have to climb that beast in the coming months. Not only that, but along your climb you will be forced to survive among some of the craziest predators this world has to offer (students and parents). I have determined that starting school is like running into a brick wall over and over again until the shock of the impact finally wears away. You go from floating in a pool on Wednesday afternoons in June to juggling 100 students needs and wants every single day in September. It's absolute craziness.

The silver lining that I must keep in mind is that eventually the trauma of a new school year dissipates. After you run into the brick wall of teaching enough times, you desensitize to the smell of teenagers and accept that you will have to repeat yourself no less than 20 times per day and get used to hearing 14 year olds try to read Shakespeare. You numb yourself to crazy parents and remind yourself that adolescents cannot be taken personally and remember how to eat lunch in 20 minutes and use the restroom in less than 2. And somewhere around November (or is it March?) you find yourself smiling at that really annoying kid in 6th period rather than wanting to curse at him and occasionally taking a deep breath instead of an anxious sigh when the first bell rings. I know that these things will happen. This is my fifth year of running into the brick wall and I have more confidence that the acceptance of impact will come sooner than later. Unfortunately though, I am currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position at the bottom of the education mountain and my eyesight is so cluttered with grades and textbooks and essays and and parent teacher conferences that I can't even see the summit.

When is Spring Break?

Catching Up

I was looking back at my blog and realized that it has almost been a year exactly since I bailed on writing. It has been a bit of a crazy 12 months, so I thought I would recap what was missed.

First of all, last August Cody and I bought a new house. It was a complete fluke of a purchase. We were not looking for a home to buy. We happened upon an open house and went into look “just for fun” and ended up making an offer and purchasing said home within a week. We then got to survive the moving process in the dead of August with me having just started back to school. It was crazy. It was stressful. However, I absolutely love our house. I’ve spent a lot of the past year remodeling stuff and have started to feel like it is really our home.

And no, we didn’t sell our first home. It is currently being rented by a really reliable couple that we hope continues to rent it until America’s economy does not suck so bad. . The good news is that for now our house(s) situation is under control.

The few months after we moved into our new house are pretty much a complete blur for me. I coach volleyball from August to the beginning of November. Last year, it pretty much took all I had to keep my head above water for that stretch of time. The past year has been different than most, because my mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer a little over a year ago. I have spent the last year sort of chained to the next set of test results or next trip to visit a doctor. The good news is that my mom is currently responding to treatment. It took literally almost a year for us to find a treatment that slowed the growth of the cancer. But we have found a solution for now. I am so grateful and happy. And I am so proud of my mom for enduring the past year with grace that is ever-present in times of struggle for her.

Besides new houses and life-altering battles with cancer, my life has been pretty calm here lately. This summer Cody and I went to the Dominican Republic for a week. I spent a lot of time soaking up days with nothing scheduled to do and time that I could spend with Cody and my family. This summer has been a bit of a relief from a year of pretty hard stuff for me. It has been a chance to recharge a bit and I am thankful for that.

I have figured out over the last year that there can be some good that comes out of a cancer diagnosis. I have started appreciating days that are good a lot more than I used to. I try not to worry about insignificant stuff near as much. And I have started identifying my mom’s cancer diagnosis as one of those things that is bound to make me a stronger and better person in the end. I have spent a lot of this year really trying to cope with my mom’s diagnosis rather than running away from it like I did when I was in high school. I have read books and blogs and met people who have done more than just survive their own battle with an illness or a battle of someone they love. Eventually I’ll get around to blogging about all of the interesting stuff that I have learned in the past year.

A Birthday Blog

One of my most vivid memories comes from the night before my 16th birthday. August 1, 2002 I spent the night with some of my good friends. It was summertime. We were at that really perfect age, teetering on finally being old enough to drive, old enough to be a little closer to free. I remember we went driving late that night. I was in the backseat. My two good friends in the front. I remember the windows were down. It was sticky outside. Middle of the night but still too hot. We were driving on the interstate. Air blowing so hard through the car that the music on the radio was barely audible. We weren’t talking. There was nothing to say. It was one of those times when you feel so real. I remember thinking in the back seat of that car that I would always remember that moment. I would always know the smell of that summer night, the hum of those tires, the feeling of those few minutes. I don’t know why, but I was right. I still remember that night. I remember being jealous of my two friends. I remember thinking that their life had to be easier to maneuver than my own. My mom was sick, really sick. My dad and my brother had battles of their own that they were fighting. I was stuck somewhere in the middle with an uneasiness that occasionally visits me to this day. I wanted to be young and free and 16. I wanted not to care about anything other than that night. That moment. With the wind and the heat and the car.

A couple of days ago I found myself in a really odd parallel to that night from a decade ago. On August 1, 2012 I was on a school bus on the way home from a volleyball camp with my girls from school. It was hot on the bus. The windows were down. The conversations from the kids behind me barely audible from the rumble of the bus on the interstate. As my left hand floated out the window of that school bus the other night I remembered my 16th birthday eve. I remembered that indelible moment in the car with my friends. I started trying to picture that kid. On a school bus full of 15, 16 year old girls, it was hard for me to imagine that I was ever that young. It was hard for me to understand that literally a decade ago I was their age. And as I sat on that hot bus I thought about how weird life is. I thought about how unrecognizable I would be to that kid in that car ten years ago. And yet how I am so very much that kid in that car. Still dealing with a mom with cancer. Still spending a lot of time in a gym. Still riding in cars on summer nights looking for those moments when you feel real. Alive. Relevant.

I don’t like birthdays. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very grateful for a chance to be on this earth. But every birthday seems to bring an inventory of my current life. An inventory that inevitably makes me feel like I am too far behind or too far ahead. An inventory that never makes me sit back and think that everything is just where it needs to be. 26 is a weird age. You’re more than half way to 50. Closer to 30 than 20. And a long way away from 16.

And yet, the other night when I turned around to tell my kids (for the second time) to quit encouraging truck drivers to blow their horn at our bus, the faces that stared back at me were not that far from my own. In those kids eyes I saw myself a decade ago and a little bit of my almost 26 year old self. I resolved on that bus to make 26 a little easier than 25 was. I resolved to be a little more patient with my kids at school. I resolved to remember that everyone is fighting a battle (including myself). I resolved to be better at life than I was at 16 because in an entire decade of living I am bound to have figured something out. I resolved to be more grateful. More at ease. More loving. And more real. To look for those moments in life when the wind blows through the windows of a car and the struggles that weigh you down are a little less heavy for a few minutes. Still there, but a little lighter. This I will do as a 26 year old.

And thus, I decided I should start writing again. Something about writing this silly blog makes things in my life make a little more sense. And a decade from now the thoughts of my 26 year old self will most likely be as funny as my 16 year old self is to me today. And no, I’m not pregnant. The last time I started a blog I was getting married. I have no life-altering announcement as of now. However, can you imagine the analysis that will take place if I am ever harboring a small human inside of me? Put your seat belts on folks. I’m back in the blog saddle!