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!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Amsterdam to Paris
Okay, so back to the Europe recap. Somehow summer is over, and I am just now getting to the second leg of our trip. Times flies.
After we spent a couple days in Amsterdam, we took a train to Paris. I had no idea how crazy trains in Europe are. I was expecting a train station to be fairly close to an airport. However, I soon figured out that train stations are like airports on crack. People were running everywhere. There were lots of loud announcements being made. Cody and I did our best to stay out of the way and translate enough signs to finally find our way to our train. Once we were finally on our train, we ended up having to switch seats about 4 times in our 3 hour train ride. We were the annoying, ignorant Americans that initially didn't realize there were assigned seats on a train. And then we were the annoying, ignorant Americans that didn't realize there were also assigned cars on a train. We both felt pretty stupid. The only solace I could take away from the experience was that I didn't have the same potent body odor that the annoyed Europeans had, who confronted us about stealing their seat. I may only speak English, but I have stellar personal hygiene.
We made it to Paris about 3 hours later. We even decided to utilize public transportation instead of taking a taxi. It went much better than I expected. We both got a sense of accomplishment out of reading a color coded map like a couple of champions.
Our hotel in Paris was super cute. It was called Hotel De La Paix. It was small but cozy. Very clean. In Paris we did all the touristy stuff. We started with a tour on one of the double decker buses. The weather was perfect. It was in the upper 70's with the sun shining the entire time we were there. Cody and I did start to feel the exhaustion of travel start to sneak up on us once we got to Paris. I think the adrenaline was still in effect for much of Amsterdam with all of its sleaziness keeping us on guard at all times. As we were riding the bus around Paris, Cody and I both admitted to having trouble keeping our eyes open. It's funny how that happens. You travel across the world to see all of these interesting things, and then find yourself wishing to be in your comfortable bed at home.
Cody tries to claim he was not asleep in this picture. I beg to differ.
I would have to say my favorite part of Paris was the Eiffel Tower. I know, I know. Super cliche. There was just something about the hugeness that is the Eiffel Tower. And the fact that we walked up all those stairs to see that city that you have heard so much about your entire life. It was fun. And when we went back a second time to see it light up at night, I was sold. It was breathtaking. I also appreciated that it required no prior knowledge to appreciate the Eiffel Tower. I didn't need to know who built it and in what year. I didn't need to know where the metal came from or how many men it took to build. All of the silly details about the Eiffel Tower simply can't compare to how cool it is just to look at. It was worth the hundreds of steps we climbed.
The night we went back to see it light up is definitely one of the defining moments of the trip for me. They say Paris is for lovers, and I understood the truth behind that as Cody and I laid on the green grass with all of these strangers speaking strange languages. Cody and I were in our own little world. Miles away from home. A little uncomfortable from all that traveling to a foreign country entails. But at the same time so happy to be together doing something worth doing.
Yes, we did have on sweatshirts. It was like Heaven.
We also went to the Louvre (saw the Mona Lisa...OVERRATED), saw the Arc de Triomphe, rode up and down the Champs de Elysses, and ate Parisian pastries. We shopped a little. Ate a lot. There was lots of fun to be had.
CP looking at the Louvre.
Arc de Triomphe
Be jealous.
On a side note, while we were in Paris, Cody had a severe case of poison ivy that had continued to spread since before we even left the U.S. We spent some of our time going in different pharmacies letting Cody show off his red bump infested chest to any Parisian pharmacist who would look. Good luck trying to translate poison ivy from English to French. Fail.
After we spent a couple days in Amsterdam, we took a train to Paris. I had no idea how crazy trains in Europe are. I was expecting a train station to be fairly close to an airport. However, I soon figured out that train stations are like airports on crack. People were running everywhere. There were lots of loud announcements being made. Cody and I did our best to stay out of the way and translate enough signs to finally find our way to our train. Once we were finally on our train, we ended up having to switch seats about 4 times in our 3 hour train ride. We were the annoying, ignorant Americans that initially didn't realize there were assigned seats on a train. And then we were the annoying, ignorant Americans that didn't realize there were also assigned cars on a train. We both felt pretty stupid. The only solace I could take away from the experience was that I didn't have the same potent body odor that the annoyed Europeans had, who confronted us about stealing their seat. I may only speak English, but I have stellar personal hygiene.
We made it to Paris about 3 hours later. We even decided to utilize public transportation instead of taking a taxi. It went much better than I expected. We both got a sense of accomplishment out of reading a color coded map like a couple of champions.
Our hotel in Paris was super cute. It was called Hotel De La Paix. It was small but cozy. Very clean. In Paris we did all the touristy stuff. We started with a tour on one of the double decker buses. The weather was perfect. It was in the upper 70's with the sun shining the entire time we were there. Cody and I did start to feel the exhaustion of travel start to sneak up on us once we got to Paris. I think the adrenaline was still in effect for much of Amsterdam with all of its sleaziness keeping us on guard at all times. As we were riding the bus around Paris, Cody and I both admitted to having trouble keeping our eyes open. It's funny how that happens. You travel across the world to see all of these interesting things, and then find yourself wishing to be in your comfortable bed at home.
Cody tries to claim he was not asleep in this picture. I beg to differ.
I would have to say my favorite part of Paris was the Eiffel Tower. I know, I know. Super cliche. There was just something about the hugeness that is the Eiffel Tower. And the fact that we walked up all those stairs to see that city that you have heard so much about your entire life. It was fun. And when we went back a second time to see it light up at night, I was sold. It was breathtaking. I also appreciated that it required no prior knowledge to appreciate the Eiffel Tower. I didn't need to know who built it and in what year. I didn't need to know where the metal came from or how many men it took to build. All of the silly details about the Eiffel Tower simply can't compare to how cool it is just to look at. It was worth the hundreds of steps we climbed.
The night we went back to see it light up is definitely one of the defining moments of the trip for me. They say Paris is for lovers, and I understood the truth behind that as Cody and I laid on the green grass with all of these strangers speaking strange languages. Cody and I were in our own little world. Miles away from home. A little uncomfortable from all that traveling to a foreign country entails. But at the same time so happy to be together doing something worth doing.
Yes, we did have on sweatshirts. It was like Heaven.
We also went to the Louvre (saw the Mona Lisa...OVERRATED), saw the Arc de Triomphe, rode up and down the Champs de Elysses, and ate Parisian pastries. We shopped a little. Ate a lot. There was lots of fun to be had.
CP looking at the Louvre.
Arc de Triomphe
Be jealous.
On a side note, while we were in Paris, Cody had a severe case of poison ivy that had continued to spread since before we even left the U.S. We spent some of our time going in different pharmacies letting Cody show off his red bump infested chest to any Parisian pharmacist who would look. Good luck trying to translate poison ivy from English to French. Fail.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Big 2-5...
I realize I am still supposed to be recapping my trip to Europe. However, I have decided to take a break to blog about me turning 25 years old! Wow.
Every year since I was about 16, I remember having a sense of nostalgia each time August 2nd rolls around. I don't know why turning 16 prompted me to make note of the aging process more so than any other birthday I had ever had up until that point, but it did. I didn't pay attention to the gifts. I don't remember blowing out candles. I remember for the first time in perhaps my entire life thinking about how old I was. And I remember not liking the feeling at all. Unfortunately, without fail, each year since I've turned sweet sixteen, I always find my birthday to be a bit sad. Birthdays for me are like New Year's. They require a certain amount of analysis of your current situation. I find myself making note of the difference between this birthday and last. I pay attention to the different circumstances, both good and bad, that I find myself in with each passing year. I calculate how many more years I have before I turn the next noteworthy age. I find myself taking inventory of my life. This year when I took my annual inventory, I realized I have found a few truths that I don't think were here before...
1. Dogs make everything better. They do not judge. And they do not talk. Perfect combination.
2. There is not always going to be an obvious sign from the Heaven's above declaring a moment perfectly right to do something completely life-altering. Sometimes you must simply jump.
3. Holding hands with someone really cool when you take aforementioned jump makes the ride easier to handle.
4. Sometimes when you think it could never get any worse, it does.
5. When you think that something costs too much and it's completely unnecessary and that you could always do it another time, do it now.
6. It's okay to bend the rules when you know that the bending is ultimately for the greater good of society...or at least the greater good of one person.
7. Mental health days are completely justifiable and legitimate.
8. It's okay to ask for help.
9. Marriage is perhaps the most complicated task a person could ever undertake. Yet, at the same time, it is also the most worthwhile.
10. No one should talk you into doing drugs or having babies. Ever.
11. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
The other day at church as I filled out the weekly attendance/information booklet, I said goodbye to the 18-24 year old box. For a moment, I sat there and wrestled with God about my age. How am I 25 years old? How is this happening? How did I get here? As I walked out of church, I simply decided to accept that the 18-24 box was cool, but the 25-39 box must be pretty interesting as well. I mean the sheer number of years within that age classification alone must mean something fun will happen. The next years may not involve as much alcohol or sleeping in or staying up late. There may not be as many crazy college adventures and social functions. However, I take solace in the fact that the next box of life will hold some new adventures suitable only for the 25-39 crowd. A crowd that I am now part of whether I want to be or not.
Who am I kidding? Getting old is for the birds. I want my 18-24 box back ASAP.
Every year since I was about 16, I remember having a sense of nostalgia each time August 2nd rolls around. I don't know why turning 16 prompted me to make note of the aging process more so than any other birthday I had ever had up until that point, but it did. I didn't pay attention to the gifts. I don't remember blowing out candles. I remember for the first time in perhaps my entire life thinking about how old I was. And I remember not liking the feeling at all. Unfortunately, without fail, each year since I've turned sweet sixteen, I always find my birthday to be a bit sad. Birthdays for me are like New Year's. They require a certain amount of analysis of your current situation. I find myself making note of the difference between this birthday and last. I pay attention to the different circumstances, both good and bad, that I find myself in with each passing year. I calculate how many more years I have before I turn the next noteworthy age. I find myself taking inventory of my life. This year when I took my annual inventory, I realized I have found a few truths that I don't think were here before...
1. Dogs make everything better. They do not judge. And they do not talk. Perfect combination.
2. There is not always going to be an obvious sign from the Heaven's above declaring a moment perfectly right to do something completely life-altering. Sometimes you must simply jump.
3. Holding hands with someone really cool when you take aforementioned jump makes the ride easier to handle.
4. Sometimes when you think it could never get any worse, it does.
5. When you think that something costs too much and it's completely unnecessary and that you could always do it another time, do it now.
6. It's okay to bend the rules when you know that the bending is ultimately for the greater good of society...or at least the greater good of one person.
7. Mental health days are completely justifiable and legitimate.
8. It's okay to ask for help.
9. Marriage is perhaps the most complicated task a person could ever undertake. Yet, at the same time, it is also the most worthwhile.
10. No one should talk you into doing drugs or having babies. Ever.
11. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
The other day at church as I filled out the weekly attendance/information booklet, I said goodbye to the 18-24 year old box. For a moment, I sat there and wrestled with God about my age. How am I 25 years old? How is this happening? How did I get here? As I walked out of church, I simply decided to accept that the 18-24 box was cool, but the 25-39 box must be pretty interesting as well. I mean the sheer number of years within that age classification alone must mean something fun will happen. The next years may not involve as much alcohol or sleeping in or staying up late. There may not be as many crazy college adventures and social functions. However, I take solace in the fact that the next box of life will hold some new adventures suitable only for the 25-39 crowd. A crowd that I am now part of whether I want to be or not.
Who am I kidding? Getting old is for the birds. I want my 18-24 box back ASAP.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
And I'm Back!!!
So, it's been a while. The past month has been crazy! I've been celebrating my first anniversary, traveling all over God's green (well, lately it's been more burnt yellow around these parts) earth, and trying to get a volleyball team in some sort of shape to be able to play a match within a month. It's been pretty intense. However, most notably, Cody and I spent two weeks in Europe soaking up the international life. We had a lot of fun. We experienced a lot of really cool stuff. And overall had a really great time. I want to recap the trip as best I can. For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to summarize the trip by the different cities we visited, starting first with Amsterdam, because that's where we started our journey.
First of all, Cody and I both determined that out of all of the places we went to, Amsterdam was probably the coolest of them all. I know, I know...you're trying to envision Cody and myself in some seedy "coffee shop" smoking marijuana right now. Well, believe it or not, you can go to Amsterdam and have a lot of fun without smoking weed. Cody and I are both self-proclaimed woosies when it comes to any sort of drugs, and we maintained our woosie status throughout our trip. However, we did have a lot of fun seeing all the crazy people doing lots of crazy stuff throughout Amsterdam.
The first night we got to Amsterdam, we wandered around until we eventually found the Red Light District. I'm not sure we were necessarily searching for this part of town, but we found ourselves right smack dab in the midst of all the shadiness. I loved it. The whole street is like a train wreck of debauchery that you simply cannot take your eyes off of. There are people of all ages, shapes, colors, and sizes walking up and down the streets partaking in all sorts of fun stuff. I witnessed my first time a drug deal take place approximately ten feet from me. I saw a 70-something-year-old man negotiating with a prostitute. I saw lots of private parts, mainly on buildings. I smelt marijuana for hours on end. I saw all sorts of cool sex toys in lots of different shops. It was crazy. Straight up crazy.
In our jet lagged haze, Cody and I decided we should go into a Sex Museum that happens to be located in the Red Light District. It was weird and uncomfortable. There were lots of naked people doing things that naked people do with one another. There were literally four stories of sex stuff from all over the world dating back years and years ago. We took quite a few pictures in this museum. However, I would like to keep my job as a public school educator, so I am going to include only the more tame pictures from our experience. This is Cody in one of the cut-outs from the sex museum. I really appreciate his expression. Cody can blend in with the best of them.
We went back to the Red Light District a couple of times after our first night in Amsterdam. I really could handle the drugs and alcohol and sex shops and all of that stuff. Those things are somewhat available in every part of the world. The weirdest thing about Amsterdam were the girls who were displaying themselves for sex. There were literally window after window up and down side streets around the Red Light District with women standing in very little clothing. The women were making kissing faces and pointing at men. They were doing all these weird sexual poses. Some men would stop and talk to them. Some men would even go so far as to start getting their wallet out. On occasion you would walk by a window with the shade pulled down. I could only imagine what was happening on that twin sized bed in that little room. Disgusting.
The whole time I walked around and saw these women (girls) I kept wondering where their parents were. How do you get to that point in your life? Do they think selling themselves for sex is ok? It was so weird. And then I started wondering who these men were that were actually communicating with these women. Were they married? Did they come to Amsterdam just to have sex with some random chick? Ick! It was really gross and disheartening. It was a really sad representation of humans. Yet again, it was absolutely impossible not to watch. It was so far from anything I ever experience in Fort Smith, Arkansas. It was really interesting. Needless to say, I will not be including any pictures from the Red Light District. If you're really interested, contact me later and we can set up a private R rated viewing of our other pictures.
With the rest of our time in Amsterdam, Cody and I went to the Dutch Resistance Museum. It was really cool. It was all about Dutch people who worked against Hitler's regime during the Holocaust. I teach a book about the Holocaust each year, so it was really interesting for me to see. At the end of the museum, they had a table set up where people could leave some sort of sewing creation (this tied into some of the Dutch women who created stuff during the Holocaust). Cody took some time out of busy schedule to create the masterpiece below. Pretty impressive, if I say so myself.
We also visited Anne Frank's house while we were in Amsterdam. I, of course, was super interested in all of this. Cody did a good job of acting like he was interested as well. I'm looking forward to sharing some of my experiences with my students this year.
Cody and I also took a bike tour into the countryside outside of Amsterdam. EVERYONE in Amsterdam rides a bike, so bike tours are pretty popular. The whole city is completely flat and covers about 4 miles of land, so it's very simple to get around on a bike. We saw a windmill and a cheese factory. We got to ride around the streets and hear all of the history behind the canals of Amsterdam. It was really fun.
Amsterdam was really fun overall. It had a good mixture of ridiculously bizarre drug use and prostitution sprinkled in with a population of people that were friendly and really open to tourists. It was also nice because despite all of the drug use and gross stuff that happens in the city, Amsterdam was really clean and let off a very cookie-cutter vibe outside of the shady streets. They even had huge clogs that you could take your picture in. What more could a naive American ask for?
First of all, Cody and I both determined that out of all of the places we went to, Amsterdam was probably the coolest of them all. I know, I know...you're trying to envision Cody and myself in some seedy "coffee shop" smoking marijuana right now. Well, believe it or not, you can go to Amsterdam and have a lot of fun without smoking weed. Cody and I are both self-proclaimed woosies when it comes to any sort of drugs, and we maintained our woosie status throughout our trip. However, we did have a lot of fun seeing all the crazy people doing lots of crazy stuff throughout Amsterdam.
The first night we got to Amsterdam, we wandered around until we eventually found the Red Light District. I'm not sure we were necessarily searching for this part of town, but we found ourselves right smack dab in the midst of all the shadiness. I loved it. The whole street is like a train wreck of debauchery that you simply cannot take your eyes off of. There are people of all ages, shapes, colors, and sizes walking up and down the streets partaking in all sorts of fun stuff. I witnessed my first time a drug deal take place approximately ten feet from me. I saw a 70-something-year-old man negotiating with a prostitute. I saw lots of private parts, mainly on buildings. I smelt marijuana for hours on end. I saw all sorts of cool sex toys in lots of different shops. It was crazy. Straight up crazy.
In our jet lagged haze, Cody and I decided we should go into a Sex Museum that happens to be located in the Red Light District. It was weird and uncomfortable. There were lots of naked people doing things that naked people do with one another. There were literally four stories of sex stuff from all over the world dating back years and years ago. We took quite a few pictures in this museum. However, I would like to keep my job as a public school educator, so I am going to include only the more tame pictures from our experience. This is Cody in one of the cut-outs from the sex museum. I really appreciate his expression. Cody can blend in with the best of them.
We went back to the Red Light District a couple of times after our first night in Amsterdam. I really could handle the drugs and alcohol and sex shops and all of that stuff. Those things are somewhat available in every part of the world. The weirdest thing about Amsterdam were the girls who were displaying themselves for sex. There were literally window after window up and down side streets around the Red Light District with women standing in very little clothing. The women were making kissing faces and pointing at men. They were doing all these weird sexual poses. Some men would stop and talk to them. Some men would even go so far as to start getting their wallet out. On occasion you would walk by a window with the shade pulled down. I could only imagine what was happening on that twin sized bed in that little room. Disgusting.
The whole time I walked around and saw these women (girls) I kept wondering where their parents were. How do you get to that point in your life? Do they think selling themselves for sex is ok? It was so weird. And then I started wondering who these men were that were actually communicating with these women. Were they married? Did they come to Amsterdam just to have sex with some random chick? Ick! It was really gross and disheartening. It was a really sad representation of humans. Yet again, it was absolutely impossible not to watch. It was so far from anything I ever experience in Fort Smith, Arkansas. It was really interesting. Needless to say, I will not be including any pictures from the Red Light District. If you're really interested, contact me later and we can set up a private R rated viewing of our other pictures.
With the rest of our time in Amsterdam, Cody and I went to the Dutch Resistance Museum. It was really cool. It was all about Dutch people who worked against Hitler's regime during the Holocaust. I teach a book about the Holocaust each year, so it was really interesting for me to see. At the end of the museum, they had a table set up where people could leave some sort of sewing creation (this tied into some of the Dutch women who created stuff during the Holocaust). Cody took some time out of busy schedule to create the masterpiece below. Pretty impressive, if I say so myself.
We also visited Anne Frank's house while we were in Amsterdam. I, of course, was super interested in all of this. Cody did a good job of acting like he was interested as well. I'm looking forward to sharing some of my experiences with my students this year.
Cody and I also took a bike tour into the countryside outside of Amsterdam. EVERYONE in Amsterdam rides a bike, so bike tours are pretty popular. The whole city is completely flat and covers about 4 miles of land, so it's very simple to get around on a bike. We saw a windmill and a cheese factory. We got to ride around the streets and hear all of the history behind the canals of Amsterdam. It was really fun.
Amsterdam was really fun overall. It had a good mixture of ridiculously bizarre drug use and prostitution sprinkled in with a population of people that were friendly and really open to tourists. It was also nice because despite all of the drug use and gross stuff that happens in the city, Amsterdam was really clean and let off a very cookie-cutter vibe outside of the shady streets. They even had huge clogs that you could take your picture in. What more could a naive American ask for?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Happy Birthday, CP!
Cody Wayne Prater's 25th birthday was June 9th. I realize that today is not June 9th. I haven't done a very good job of celebrating Cody's birthday this year. I didn't even wrap a present. I got him a card that is still sitting in a drawer in our kitchen. I really dropped the ball in other words. In an attempt to make up for a less than noteworthy birthday celebration, I am going to devote a blog post solely to Cody and all that he does for me. Here goes!
Cody's 25th birthday falls ten days before our one year wedding anniversary. This close occurrence of such important events that both deal with Cody got me thinking the other day about where in the world I would be without my husband. I decided that I would make a list of 25 reasons why I love Cody and write them down for him. Then, I remembered that I made a list of 365 reasons why I loved Cody for our one year anniversary years ago. I didn't want to undermine the coolness of my list of 25 with the list of 365. So I started thinking about just our past year of marriage. What have I learned from being legally bound to Cody for almost an entire year? What I determined I have learned are a few lessons that Cody has probably been teaching me for a lot more than just our one year of marriage.
Lesson #1: Don't take things too seriously.
Cody is the king of silliness. I used to think that his over-the-top antics were somewhat hard to stomach when I first met him. I realize now that Cody may have the right idea. I am naturally very serious and extremely focused on serious things. Cody keeps me laughing. He reminds me that there is more to life than following a path that someone else laid out for you. Cody is a constant reminder of loving everyday that you get to wake up and go out and do something good and positive with your time. With a smile on your face. Or at least a smile closer to the surface of your overly intimidating demeanor than it was seven years ago when you came in contact with Cody.
Lesson #2: Dream a little.
Cody is a dreamer through and through. He thinks that the world is his playground, and there is nothing that could ever stop him from accomplishing what he wants to do. I am much more realistic about my life. I am always on the lookout for roadblocks and hurdles along the way. Cody continues to defy the odds of the real world. He gives true meaning to the idea that dreams can come true. I have not wholeheartedly adopted this motto with my life. I am afraid that if we both did nothing but dream, we would most likely find our home foreclosed upon with no money in the bank standing in the unemployment line. I do find myself trying to open my mind to things that once seemed ridiculous to me. I have learned that with Cody there are lots of odds that can be defied.
Lesson #3: Believe in a power that is bigger than yourself.
I am not a huge religion philosopher. I don't like writing or speaking about my beliefs in God, because I think that everyone's religious ideas are unique and honestly none of my business. One of the things that struck me very early on in getting to know Cody was that he is religious unlike anyone in my family or anyone that I've ever known very well. Cody believes in God. He believes in God with more conviction and confidence than I have ever found. In my time being with Cody I have learned that all things in this world are controlled by someone bigger than us. I still cannot rattle off Bible verses. I will not stop a stranger on the sidewalk to tell them about Jesus. But having Cody as a constant reminder of the good things that come from believing in God helps me to continue working toward what is right for me from a religious stand point. And being married to a man that is so strongly rooted in his faith allows me to sleep at night knowing that Cody is good and just and kind. There is nothing more important than that.
Lesson #4: Cody loves me.
I realize this is weird. You're probably wondering how did I just now realize that Cody loves me? In my almost seven years of knowing and being with Cody, I was never confronted with a whole lot of controversy in my personal life. Cody got to know the completely level-headed, calm and collected Katy Schrodt. I was blessed to have a few years of relative calm in my life. Along the way I found myself occasionally wondering why in the world Cody would have ever picked me out of all the other girls he found. I always questioned his motives on some weird level. Years went by. He never faltered in his devotion to me. He never gave me any reason to believe anything other than the words that came out of his mouth. Yet, I always figured I would eventually be struck with some catastrophic event in my life that would require me to be depressed and angry and upset and a little crazy and Cody would finally see the writing on the wall. While we were dating, I always worried I was just holding it all together well enough to sneak the craziness by him. Close to the wedding I have to say some of my insecurities surfaced. I was irrational at times. I was weird and girly all the way around. He didn't flinch. I cried. I complained. I made crazy requests. He didn't blink an eye. And in our first year of marriage I have again been faced with things that simply require me to be a little unstable. A little raw. And again, Cody has not faltered. He is a strong man who stands by the people he loves. And with every year older I see Cody turn, I find myself a little more in love with that guy that seemed so silly years ago. I love so much about him that's it's hard for me to believe that I am the one that caught this smokin' hunk of a man. And then again I come back to remembering that there is a map that we are all following that doesn't involve me or Cody making decisions. And I'm okay with that.
Happy birthday, Cody Prater! You're the best husband I have ever had. I hope your next 25 are as blessing-filled as your first!
Cody's 25th birthday falls ten days before our one year wedding anniversary. This close occurrence of such important events that both deal with Cody got me thinking the other day about where in the world I would be without my husband. I decided that I would make a list of 25 reasons why I love Cody and write them down for him. Then, I remembered that I made a list of 365 reasons why I loved Cody for our one year anniversary years ago. I didn't want to undermine the coolness of my list of 25 with the list of 365. So I started thinking about just our past year of marriage. What have I learned from being legally bound to Cody for almost an entire year? What I determined I have learned are a few lessons that Cody has probably been teaching me for a lot more than just our one year of marriage.
Lesson #1: Don't take things too seriously.
Cody is the king of silliness. I used to think that his over-the-top antics were somewhat hard to stomach when I first met him. I realize now that Cody may have the right idea. I am naturally very serious and extremely focused on serious things. Cody keeps me laughing. He reminds me that there is more to life than following a path that someone else laid out for you. Cody is a constant reminder of loving everyday that you get to wake up and go out and do something good and positive with your time. With a smile on your face. Or at least a smile closer to the surface of your overly intimidating demeanor than it was seven years ago when you came in contact with Cody.
Lesson #2: Dream a little.
Cody is a dreamer through and through. He thinks that the world is his playground, and there is nothing that could ever stop him from accomplishing what he wants to do. I am much more realistic about my life. I am always on the lookout for roadblocks and hurdles along the way. Cody continues to defy the odds of the real world. He gives true meaning to the idea that dreams can come true. I have not wholeheartedly adopted this motto with my life. I am afraid that if we both did nothing but dream, we would most likely find our home foreclosed upon with no money in the bank standing in the unemployment line. I do find myself trying to open my mind to things that once seemed ridiculous to me. I have learned that with Cody there are lots of odds that can be defied.
Lesson #3: Believe in a power that is bigger than yourself.
I am not a huge religion philosopher. I don't like writing or speaking about my beliefs in God, because I think that everyone's religious ideas are unique and honestly none of my business. One of the things that struck me very early on in getting to know Cody was that he is religious unlike anyone in my family or anyone that I've ever known very well. Cody believes in God. He believes in God with more conviction and confidence than I have ever found. In my time being with Cody I have learned that all things in this world are controlled by someone bigger than us. I still cannot rattle off Bible verses. I will not stop a stranger on the sidewalk to tell them about Jesus. But having Cody as a constant reminder of the good things that come from believing in God helps me to continue working toward what is right for me from a religious stand point. And being married to a man that is so strongly rooted in his faith allows me to sleep at night knowing that Cody is good and just and kind. There is nothing more important than that.
Lesson #4: Cody loves me.
I realize this is weird. You're probably wondering how did I just now realize that Cody loves me? In my almost seven years of knowing and being with Cody, I was never confronted with a whole lot of controversy in my personal life. Cody got to know the completely level-headed, calm and collected Katy Schrodt. I was blessed to have a few years of relative calm in my life. Along the way I found myself occasionally wondering why in the world Cody would have ever picked me out of all the other girls he found. I always questioned his motives on some weird level. Years went by. He never faltered in his devotion to me. He never gave me any reason to believe anything other than the words that came out of his mouth. Yet, I always figured I would eventually be struck with some catastrophic event in my life that would require me to be depressed and angry and upset and a little crazy and Cody would finally see the writing on the wall. While we were dating, I always worried I was just holding it all together well enough to sneak the craziness by him. Close to the wedding I have to say some of my insecurities surfaced. I was irrational at times. I was weird and girly all the way around. He didn't flinch. I cried. I complained. I made crazy requests. He didn't blink an eye. And in our first year of marriage I have again been faced with things that simply require me to be a little unstable. A little raw. And again, Cody has not faltered. He is a strong man who stands by the people he loves. And with every year older I see Cody turn, I find myself a little more in love with that guy that seemed so silly years ago. I love so much about him that's it's hard for me to believe that I am the one that caught this smokin' hunk of a man. And then again I come back to remembering that there is a map that we are all following that doesn't involve me or Cody making decisions. And I'm okay with that.
Happy birthday, Cody Prater! You're the best husband I have ever had. I hope your next 25 are as blessing-filled as your first!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Caught in a Wildfire
One summer when I was about 14 years old, part of Fort Chaffee caught on fire. It was mid-July, 100 degrees, and we hadn't had any rain in weeks. My parents' house is very close to Fort Chaffee. I remember frantically running around dousing our back yard with a water hose. The news channels were updating us on the progress of the fire. I remember smelling the smoke, hearing an occasional crack of fire. As the flames continued to approach our house, my mom finally gave in and instructed my brother and me to help her grab the most valuable things from our home and store them in our Suburban in preparation for a speedy escape. I remember running into my home and quickly evaluating what in that house that I had to save. My mother grabbed family pictures, important documents, and other stuff like that. I don't think my brother grabbed anything because he was never one for directions. I understood the seriousness, though. I wasn't that old, but I remember understanding the significance of your life being altered in one smoldering afternoon. That day I walked out of my house holding only a few things. I salvaged my MVP plaque from the softball Little League World Series that my team, the Whiskers, had won a couple of summers before. I grabbed my diary mainly because I had recently read The Diary of Anne Frank and dreamed of being so famous one day. And I grabbed a few pictures because those were the things my mother saved, so I figured I would follow suit. In the end, the fire never jumped the highway that acted as the fortress around my neighborhood. The cops stopped driving up and down our street with their megaphones booming a warning of evacuation. We unloaded our Suburban. My brother scoffed at our unwarranted fear. And we went back to the way things were before Fort Chaffee caught on fire.
In the past couple of weeks, I have found myself in a different type of fire. My entire life has been engulfed by a looming force that my family has not been able to define quite yet. My mom has been diagnosed with cancer...again. Those of you who have known me for some time are probably aware that this is round three of the cancer fight for my mother. We are not positive of all of the details, but we know that regardless of the whereabouts or size of the flame, it's coming. We learned about the diagnosis on Good Friday (the irony, right?). We have spent the past days running tests and concocting some sort of game plan. We are dousing our yard with water hoses. Gathering our most treasured possessions. And preparing for the arrival of the catastrophe that is cancer.
I went back and forth on whether or not to blog about this. I recognize that the news of my mother's diagnosis will eventually spread. We are asking for prayers and thoughts from whomever is willing to give them. I just know that my mom gets so exhausted by the incessant questions, the pitiful looks, the defeated greetings from people who learn of this news. At the same time, I know that this is part of our story now. This time in our lives will be notable for not just my mom but for our entire family. I know that Good Friday is one of those days that will stand out as a bridge between the way my life was before my mother was diagnosed and after she was diagnosed.
I have done this three times now. I have sifted through the debris that remains after a loved one is diagnosed with a serious illness. Each time cancer has come and gone from our lives, I have thought to myself that at least the next time I will be better prepared. I will know what to expect. I will be more emotionally stable. As a 24 year old I assumed I would handle this situation with more grace and rational thinking than I did as a 16 year old. I think now I am wrong. Each time the fire approaches our home, I get a little more nervous. I worry a little more. I want to protect my belongings better than the last time. My family is working together to rally the troops. We are going to find all the water in this world to fight for my mom. We will build walls, gather supplies, make game plans, and attack the flames if need be. One thing that I have learned from fighting this fight twice before is that if there is a worthy opponent against cancer, it is my mother. I have all the faith in the world in her endurance, persistence, and faith that is necessary to fight for a day when the flames are left as nothing more than a smoky shadow in the distance.
I don't want to answer questions. I don't need your help. I have a support system around me and my family that will carry us through whatever comes of this experience. I do need your thoughts and prayers, however. I will accept them freely and openly. And most importantly, so will my mom.
I don't know when exactly the flames will die out. I don't know how long we will fight. I do know that I have faith in a power that is bigger than any fire in this world. I know that the same force that extinguished the flames on that hot day in July will protect our most treasured possessions this time around as well. Again, thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated.
In the past couple of weeks, I have found myself in a different type of fire. My entire life has been engulfed by a looming force that my family has not been able to define quite yet. My mom has been diagnosed with cancer...again. Those of you who have known me for some time are probably aware that this is round three of the cancer fight for my mother. We are not positive of all of the details, but we know that regardless of the whereabouts or size of the flame, it's coming. We learned about the diagnosis on Good Friday (the irony, right?). We have spent the past days running tests and concocting some sort of game plan. We are dousing our yard with water hoses. Gathering our most treasured possessions. And preparing for the arrival of the catastrophe that is cancer.
I went back and forth on whether or not to blog about this. I recognize that the news of my mother's diagnosis will eventually spread. We are asking for prayers and thoughts from whomever is willing to give them. I just know that my mom gets so exhausted by the incessant questions, the pitiful looks, the defeated greetings from people who learn of this news. At the same time, I know that this is part of our story now. This time in our lives will be notable for not just my mom but for our entire family. I know that Good Friday is one of those days that will stand out as a bridge between the way my life was before my mother was diagnosed and after she was diagnosed.
I have done this three times now. I have sifted through the debris that remains after a loved one is diagnosed with a serious illness. Each time cancer has come and gone from our lives, I have thought to myself that at least the next time I will be better prepared. I will know what to expect. I will be more emotionally stable. As a 24 year old I assumed I would handle this situation with more grace and rational thinking than I did as a 16 year old. I think now I am wrong. Each time the fire approaches our home, I get a little more nervous. I worry a little more. I want to protect my belongings better than the last time. My family is working together to rally the troops. We are going to find all the water in this world to fight for my mom. We will build walls, gather supplies, make game plans, and attack the flames if need be. One thing that I have learned from fighting this fight twice before is that if there is a worthy opponent against cancer, it is my mother. I have all the faith in the world in her endurance, persistence, and faith that is necessary to fight for a day when the flames are left as nothing more than a smoky shadow in the distance.
I don't want to answer questions. I don't need your help. I have a support system around me and my family that will carry us through whatever comes of this experience. I do need your thoughts and prayers, however. I will accept them freely and openly. And most importantly, so will my mom.
I don't know when exactly the flames will die out. I don't know how long we will fight. I do know that I have faith in a power that is bigger than any fire in this world. I know that the same force that extinguished the flames on that hot day in July will protect our most treasured possessions this time around as well. Again, thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Random things I come up with when the majority of my students are taking standardized tests and I have nothing to do at work.
Recently, I have been considering becoming a National Board Certified Teacher. For those of you who are not in the education field, this pretty much means that you do a whole bunch of work and take a few tests over the course of a year or two in hopes of passing the tests and work to get a raise in your salary. The idea seems like a good one, but for some reason I just can't seem to get it together.
Ever since I graduated college (and perhaps more specifically high school), I feel like I have really fallen off the successful, intelligent, hard-working, over-achiever map. My high school career was chalked full of an endless number of ridiculously unnecessary awards and achievements. I made all A's, took every AP class ever, joined clubs, excelled at sports, and everything in between. It was exhausting. It was time-consuming. It was addictive. It was more than any teenager should ever have to juggle all at once. Nonetheless, I succeeded with lots of trophies and a flawless transcript as proof. It was good. I guess.
I then went on to college to do pretty much the same thing as high school. However, I was at UA Fort Smith which most people discount as being worthy of mention when it comes to recounting where you graduated from. I was a Lion and not a Razorback or Sooner or Hurricane or some other mascot from schools so prestigious and terrible at sports that I am not even familiar with their mascot. I think my decision to go to UA Fort Smith was the beginning of me accepting that it was my decision alone to enter myself in the race that all of my friends from high school were in. I was okay with wanting to be a teacher and a coach, as opposed to getting numerous degrees and travelling abroad and going to graduate school. I was okay with not having a cool response to rattle off when I ran into a kid from Southside who had sat next to me in all of our AP classes. I was okay with it.
Even though I went to UA Fort Smith, I still achieved and did well. I maintained most of my over-achiever mentality and accomplished everyting I wanted to accomplish. When I graduated from college I remember wanting to teach AP English to really intelligent students at a big high school much like Southside. I wanted to save the world and become National Board Certified as soon as possible. I wanted to continue winning all of the awards and maintaining my flawless resume...And now, I can't even get myself to look at the National Board website much less actually decide to undertake a program specifically designed to identify the best teachers in America. I don't think I care if I'm one of the best teachers in America. I don't think I care if I do a lot of the things I once thought were essential to life. I don't care how much money I make. I don't care how big my house is. I don't care what kind of clothes I wear. I just don't care. I'm okay with being status quo when it comes to areas of my life that I once envisioned very differently than they are today. I'm okay with working at a small school, teaching average kids, and coaching average athletes. I feel so detached from the constant competition that once was my life that sometimes it seems so weird to me that my life used to be the way it was. It's like when I graduated from college I took my life back to the store and asked to exchange it for something else.
So what does this all mean? Heck if I know. Maybe I've had some fundamental shift in the determination of worth in my life. Maybe it has something to do with my acceptance that it's the people in your life that mean the most. Or maybe it has something to do with some other cliche quote about life being about something other than always being the best. Or maybe it means that I used up all of the winner in me years ago. Maybe everyone only has so much energy to exert toward being good at stuff and mine is all gone. Maybe I am sentenced to a life of the perpetual has-been. Maybe I was never that exceptional in the first place.
Before everyone reads this and deducts that I hate my life and am completely dissatisfied with where I am, know that I am not in that situation at all. I'm perfectly happy with my life as it is today. I wouldn't change much of anything if given the opportunity. Maybe it has taken me 24 years to be confident enough with who I am to stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. Or maybe I just needed a really good guy and a couple of dogs to slow me down enough to take it all in for a minute. Maybe that's it...I'm just taking it all in. For a minute.
Ever since I graduated college (and perhaps more specifically high school), I feel like I have really fallen off the successful, intelligent, hard-working, over-achiever map. My high school career was chalked full of an endless number of ridiculously unnecessary awards and achievements. I made all A's, took every AP class ever, joined clubs, excelled at sports, and everything in between. It was exhausting. It was time-consuming. It was addictive. It was more than any teenager should ever have to juggle all at once. Nonetheless, I succeeded with lots of trophies and a flawless transcript as proof. It was good. I guess.
I then went on to college to do pretty much the same thing as high school. However, I was at UA Fort Smith which most people discount as being worthy of mention when it comes to recounting where you graduated from. I was a Lion and not a Razorback or Sooner or Hurricane or some other mascot from schools so prestigious and terrible at sports that I am not even familiar with their mascot. I think my decision to go to UA Fort Smith was the beginning of me accepting that it was my decision alone to enter myself in the race that all of my friends from high school were in. I was okay with wanting to be a teacher and a coach, as opposed to getting numerous degrees and travelling abroad and going to graduate school. I was okay with not having a cool response to rattle off when I ran into a kid from Southside who had sat next to me in all of our AP classes. I was okay with it.
Even though I went to UA Fort Smith, I still achieved and did well. I maintained most of my over-achiever mentality and accomplished everyting I wanted to accomplish. When I graduated from college I remember wanting to teach AP English to really intelligent students at a big high school much like Southside. I wanted to save the world and become National Board Certified as soon as possible. I wanted to continue winning all of the awards and maintaining my flawless resume...And now, I can't even get myself to look at the National Board website much less actually decide to undertake a program specifically designed to identify the best teachers in America. I don't think I care if I'm one of the best teachers in America. I don't think I care if I do a lot of the things I once thought were essential to life. I don't care how much money I make. I don't care how big my house is. I don't care what kind of clothes I wear. I just don't care. I'm okay with being status quo when it comes to areas of my life that I once envisioned very differently than they are today. I'm okay with working at a small school, teaching average kids, and coaching average athletes. I feel so detached from the constant competition that once was my life that sometimes it seems so weird to me that my life used to be the way it was. It's like when I graduated from college I took my life back to the store and asked to exchange it for something else.
So what does this all mean? Heck if I know. Maybe I've had some fundamental shift in the determination of worth in my life. Maybe it has something to do with my acceptance that it's the people in your life that mean the most. Or maybe it has something to do with some other cliche quote about life being about something other than always being the best. Or maybe it means that I used up all of the winner in me years ago. Maybe everyone only has so much energy to exert toward being good at stuff and mine is all gone. Maybe I am sentenced to a life of the perpetual has-been. Maybe I was never that exceptional in the first place.
Before everyone reads this and deducts that I hate my life and am completely dissatisfied with where I am, know that I am not in that situation at all. I'm perfectly happy with my life as it is today. I wouldn't change much of anything if given the opportunity. Maybe it has taken me 24 years to be confident enough with who I am to stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. Or maybe I just needed a really good guy and a couple of dogs to slow me down enough to take it all in for a minute. Maybe that's it...I'm just taking it all in. For a minute.
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