Six married years old

Matt and I celebrated our six year anniversary this past weekend.

When I was little, I remember hearing my parents talk about "so-and-so have been married six years!" and I would think that sounded so old.

Annnndddd, here we are.

We actually had a fantastic weekend. We went into Springfield on Saturday to see Twilight (sigh...so good.) and finished up some Christmas shopping. Matt surprised me for dinner by taking me to Zio's - my favorite restaurant on the face of the earth. Mmmm, noodles.

Sunday night (our actual anniversary), we watched Hotel Rwanda since it was on TV, which lead to a spirited discussion about genocide and how people can be so stupid and cruel to ignore mass killings like that. It happened only 15 years ago...it amazes me that the world can just turn away and allow things like that to happen. When the movie was over, Matt said that there are probably ignorant people out there who think the genocide never happened - just like how some people think that the Holocaust never happened.

Ridiculous.

It makes me feel so sick for trying to plan vacations and spend money on silly Christmas presents that people won't even use a month from now - do you know how far a couple hundred dollars would go in the lives of the Rwandan orphans? And we think we need the latest iPods and running shoes.

Totally preaching to myself here.

I ask for $150 Asics for my birthday and buy myself a $100 iPhone while kids in war-torn countries have to sleep out in dirty streets with disintegrating clothing and no food or clean water. How completely selfish am I? I get so sick of myself sometimes.

Sigh.

On the bright side of things, we're leaving tomorrow after Matt gets out of school for the Smokey Mountains and a wonderfully long Thanksgiving trip to see all of Matt's extended family.

Tonight's goal: pack, bake two apple pies and wrap Christmas presents for the Alabama folk.

More important goal: to be thankful for all opportunities that come my way, gifts that are generously given to me and the circumstances I'm in. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, a paying job and clothes on my back.

And that is enough.

"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Philippians 4:11

And basketball starts...now.

Junior High basketball is officially under way. I didn't get to go to the game because of class, and it was a nice surprise to see Matt's truck in the driveway when I got home. I honestly thought I wouldn't see him until 11pm or later.

A girl could get used to this.

Well, at least until March 1 when baseball starts all over again.

Anyway, Matt is the 8th grade basketball coach, but he ended up having to coach both the 7th and 8th grade games because the 7th grade coach has a nasty case of pinkeye. Ick. And I'm happy to report that both teams won! 7th grade won by five points and 8th grade won by 15. Not a bad way to start the season.

As super-exciting as junior high ball is to watch, it's actually a terrific season. It only lasts two months, which means Matt and I get to spend holidays together - something we never got to really enjoy when he was an assistant varsity basketball coach.

You'd think that's all I think about, spending time with my husband.

We actually managed to sneak out of town for a fabulous three-day weekend over Halloween. This is the second time we've been gone over Halloween, and I get really, really scared every time we pull out of the driveway.

Not because I'm scared of ghosts and goblins.

Not because all things Halloween make me freak out.

Not even because I know I'll lose sleep due to nightmares from the scary movies Matt checks out.

Nope, I get scared because we won't be home to make sure the baseball team doesn't do anything stupid like fork our yard or toilet paper our trees or let the dogs loose or burn down our house. Which I know they want to do very badly...they just don't want to face the Wrath of Coach which could entail hideous things such as millions of laps around the field and/or mowing our yard and washing our cars. Ha.

We ended up having a great weekend, especially with the time change. There's just nothing more relaxing than having a cup of coffee while watching the sun rise over the water...then waking your husband up a couple hours later to take you to the outlet mall. And Target. And Half-Sauced BBQ.

And, apparently, a haunted house.

Ugh. I'm the world's biggest chicken when it comes to scary things - you'd think that growing up in a funeral home would have gotten all the goosebumps out of me. I actually used to not be scared of much...until I met Matt. I think it's his life's goal to make me release blood-curling screams every chance he gets.

For instance, we're walking up to the haunted house, and all of a sudden a guy with a chainsaw starts chasing us. I let out my trademark shriek, and what does Matt do? He starts laughing and tells me he heard the guy coming towards us. I punched him in the arm.

So we're going through the haunted house, and while I'll admit it wasn't tooooo scary, it still had scary moments. Matt laughed his way through the entire thing, grabbed me and tried to scare me on his own, and then the minute we get in the truck he turns to look at me and says,

"Ok, now let's go find something that will scare the pee out of me."

Um, no. Really, really, no.

We drove around for a little bit and the scariest thing we could find was a Trunk or Treat at the First Baptist Church of Camdenton. That seemed right up my alley, but Matt said it was time to go back to the condo and watch scary movies. We did, and I'm still having nightmares.

He made it up to me though - November 1st officially marks my Birthday Month. That's right, a whole month. From the moment of birth, my parents have instilled in me and my sister an expectancy of all things wonderful and brilliant and sparkly and magical for our birthdays, and in turn we have always made everything a HUGE deal make our day special and unique. Sure enough, at 7am on Sunday morning I get a text from my sister saying "Happy Birthday Month Sissy!!!" Matt even indulged me by taking me to Petco (but a salesman made me furious and I will never go into another Petco as long as I live...PetSmart reigns supreme!!).

And Target. For the third time that weekend. Just because we could.

Then we came home and my relaxing, fun weekend with my husband was quickly dashed to bits when I remembered I had three pages of chemistry homework to finish, as well as a chemistry test to study for.

Happy Birthday Month to me, indeed.

Off Season

So, I obviously haven’t updated in awhile. And why’s that? Can I blame it on the fact that we’re between seasons and have nothing going on?

Actually, now that fall baseball is over, it seems like we’re even busier than last month. Matt has been getting up at 5:30 every morning for 8th grade basketball practice, I have classes in the evenings, and he’s been playing golf in the afternoons – so we haven’t really had much time at home.

A couple weekends ago Matt had the Frisco Tourney which determined Conference Champs…I admit I missed the games because I was in Memphis with my mom-in-law for a Beth Moore conference. In my opinion, it was way, way worth it to miss the games! We went on a fabulous Wild God Chase, and I needed that renewed connection to my Savior. It was an amazing time.

Meanwhile, the team ended up taking third place in the tourney. Last year we got first, so it was a little disappointing…but I seriously think that half the team had the swine flu. Yeah. That’s why we took third. Swine flu.

Today, Matt is taking two of the baseball players to Three Rivers Community College for baseball try-outs, and after that the poor guy has parent-teacher conferences. Not to get on a soapbox, but it will be interesting to see how many parents show up this time. The parents of the “A” students always attend – their kids aren’t the ones who need the help and attention. It’s the other kids who need support, and their parents never seem to show up to the conferences. Then those same parents are first in line to complain about how the school system is failing their kids…ok, I really can’t get started on this subject. I get a little heated.

I’m just looking forward to starting nursing school. There is a chance that I’ll get to take Microbiology – my last nursing school prereq – on Tuesdays and Thursdays next semester from 10:30am – 11:45am and count that as my lunch break during work. I would really love not to take classes in the evening next semester for two reasons. One, it is spring baseball season and I hate to miss spring games. Two, I haven’t really been able to keep up my running and I’m eating horrible lately, and I’m unashamedly blaming it all on my evening classes. On Mondays and Thursdays, since I know those are my late nights, I don’t get up early to run or walk because I need to rest for class. On Tuesdays and Fridays, I justify the fact that I didn’t get home until late the night before so I need to sleep in. Wednesdays are my review days because of class on Thursday. The result is not good. I’ve been waking up every morning just feeling huge and gross, and I really, really need to find some way to get back into a routine.

Just pray that I’ll be able to get into the Tuesday/Thursday Micro class – or else I’ll be taking it through a different school on Friday nights from 5:00 – 9:30pm. Every. Friday. January – May. Yuck. But if I have to do it, I’ll do it. Seven more months until SLU!

We're both looking forward to this weekend - Matt doesn't have school on Friday, and since I worked on Saturday at our health fair I'm taking this Friday off as well. We're going to head to the Lake for a long weekend, and probably one of our last free weekends for awhile since the 8th grade basketball games start November 2nd. I just hope no one TP's our house on Halloween while we're gone. :)

Elephant in the Room

There is an elephant in the room, and it's name is "Round-Two-of-the-Frisco-League-Tourney."
We lost last night 12-5. How do I know that? Not from Mr. Coach. Not from parents. Obviously not from being at the game, since I was home catching up on missed episodes of The Biggest Loser.

Right before I went to bed (knowing Coach wouldn't be home for a couple more hours yet) I decided to check the Frisco League message boards. Sure enough, someone was already on there gloating that they had beat us.

Dang.

So when Matt got home I pretended to be asleep - hard to do with three gigantic dogs bouncing all over you the minute your husband walks in the door - and, with some banging of dresser drawers, he gallumphed into bed and went to sleep. Maybe. Knowing him, he probably laid awake in bed replaying the entire game in his mind. Or calculating stats.

Whatever helps you relax.

So what do you do with an elephant in the room? You ignore it at all costs, of course. This morning, not talking about the game came as naturally as breathing. Here's a sample of how our conversations went:

Matt: Good morning.
Me: Grd mrdnging. (He often talks to me while I'm brushing my teeth.)
Matt: So, how was your day yesterday?
Me: Ok. The dogs got muddy cause the rain. And someone nailed a huge "No Hunting" sign to the tree out front.

Seriously.


(I'll give you one hint to who nailed the sign up. It starts with "baseball" and ends with "team." I think it's because they know I'm not a fan of hunting and I like to try to make them feel guilty about killing cute fuzzy animals. My efforts to dissuade them always go ignored. Sigh.)

Matt: Yeah. I think I know who did it. Oh, I think I'm going to Springfield tonight after school.
Addie: Ok. Bison steaks and roasted red potatoes for dinner?
Matt: Sounds good.

That's pretty much the basis of our communication. Simple, basic questions that didn't fringe upon anything that would raise your blood pressure before 7am. He didn't ask me if I wanted to hear about the game, and I didn't ask. And I'm not going to. If he wants to talk about it, he will.

I just wish I didn't have to work until 5:00 and could go to Springfield, too. I miss Target.

Date Night. Almost.

I must brag.

On myself.

Yesterday was cold. And windy. And we had a tournament game in the armpit of Missouri...a good 1.5 hour drive from where we live (in the middle of nowhere) to the host school (in the middle of nowhere). Seriously. It's a bad precursor to the day ahead when you have to stop at a gas station before you leave town just to stock up on sodas and snacks since the town you're headed to has nothing. No gas station. No Wal-Mart.

And the worst thing of all: no cell phone signal.

And even with all these factors thrown in, I decided to get out of my nice, warm pajamas and leave the comfort of my warm house and sit outside all day at a baseball game. I bundled up in long socks, a hoodie and my puffy Christmas blanket and prepared to freeze.

And it was so worth it.

We played so, so well. Our boys were hitting and fielding great - despite the fact that most of the boys are starting to come down with the flu.

I'm thinking that antibiotics might be the new baseball-superpower.

We had a massive 9-run inning in the bottom of the third, which put us ahead 12-1. We stayed ahead for the rest of the game, making the final score 16-5 in five innings.

I love five-inning games, especially when it's a bitterly windy 50 degrees outside.

Matt had driven up separately from the bus so that he could stay and scout the game after ours since we'd be playing the winner this Tuesday. I had ridden up with some friends (their son is on the team) and us women just figured we'd leave after the game...hence the excitement over the run-rule. Our husbands, however, had a different idea. How about we ALL stay in the cold and ALL enjoy the next game?

I think the only reason we agreed was because we were under the influence of multiple bags of Twizzlers.

That, and my husband knows how to work a proposition. He promised me food, real food after the second game if I wanted to ride home with him. Not food from the concession stand, not food in a wrapper passed through a window. Real, sit-down, "ma'am, here's your menu" food.

If I squint my eyes and tilt my head, it almost looks like a date.

Little did I know the second game would go all seven innings and we wouldn't make it back to civilization until after 8pm (for reference purposes, our game started at 2pm). By then I was a frozen popsicle and so tired that I could barely order my dinner (I really wanted chocolate cake) at the restaurant.

But it was a night out with my husband, and I had almost forgotten what that looked like. We had fun laughing (about baseball), talking (about baseball) and spending time with good friends.

We drove home, pulled into the driveway, Matt unlocked the back door, walked me inside and gave me a kiss.

And then promptly jumped back into his truck to go up to the school to do stats.

Irony and the Art of Losing

All good things must come to an end.

But did they really have to end so absurdly nasty??

We didn't just lose. We lost badly. After run-ruling teams all season long, we find ourselves down 10-2 in the first three innings.

I had some little chats with God about how irony was NOT appreciated at that moment.

I mean, come on. It was our last regular season game, and a conference game at that. I felt sick to my stomach all day and couldn’t eat a thing. I wanted this win so, so badly. But if I felt that nervous about the game, I couldn’t help but wonder how the team felt. That’s a lot of pressure to have a perfect season.

I don’t know if it was the pressure that got to us or if the team we played was just a better opponent. (One thing I do know is that the boys we played must be either corn-fed or they have HGH in the water. Those were some big ol’ boys!)

Our defense was awful and we couldn’t hit for anything. We finally got two runs in off a home run in the third but didn’t score again until the last two innings. I think I paced a path out behind the bleachers along with some other parents. We just couldn’t sit and watch the desecration.

Final score was 10-5 (which is way better than the 10-2 we had for most of the game) and my heart broke for the last kid up to bat. Our poor guy had the ultimate stress situation – bases loaded, end of the game, two outs. You can guess what happened.

I would have peed my pants.

Now we just have three Frisco League Tourney games (Saturday, Tuesday, Saturday) left. I hope we win the tourney, but I think Tuesday’s loss was the heartbreaker of the season. Matt actually isn’t too upset. He was just proud of the boys for doing as well as they did this whole fall – our record improved from last fall. It’s a good group of kids.

In the midst of this week’s game, Jr. High basketball started. Which, yes, Matt also coaches - he's in charge of the 8th graders (which I personally think should add up to extra crowns in heaven). Thank goodness for other coaches who are willing to step in, or else Matt would have before-school basketball during after-school baseball. After this tourney he’ll be up at 6am for 6:30 practices until December.

Crazy. That husband of mine is c-r-a-z-y.

Our first basketball game is October 30, and we have 2-3 games a week until December - not including tournament weeks.

Just another reason why I wish Thanksgiving and Christmas were in January or February, our only two months out of the year we don't have anything going on.

Actually, that's not true. Matt gets restless and bored in the off-season, so he volunteers to run the clock at varsity basketball games or help the varsity coach with practices.

Did I mention the word "crazy??"

My Friday Night Looks Like...

Nothing says "it's Friday night" quite like having dinner at 8pm. Actually, let me rephrase that. Cooking dinner at 8pm.

Since all of our games have been rained out this week and today was our first sunny day in about a decade, Matt put in some major hours on the field. Practice let out around 6:30 and he just walked in the door from trying to fix the soaked field. By the look of his shoes, the score stands at Field: 1, Matt: 0.

So...

Dinner at 8pm.

Plans to be back on the field at 8am accompanied by boys with four-wheelers and bags of Turface.

Our (hopefully) make-up game is at 3pm tomorrow, but there's a 30% chance of more rain for the afternoon in the forecast. I'm not telling him that - I don't want to add to the stress any more than I have to. I know, I know...I can't control the weather. But I can make sure my husband stays blissfully unaware until the last possible moment.

He's so cute and happy when he's at work on the field. If it's nice and sunny in the morning, he needs his morning of baseball work.

And I could use an empty house so I can clean. Ever since we moved the dog kennel out from under the carport into the backyard, we have dust and mud EVERYWHERE. I think it's time to move the kennel back under the carport for winter. Snow and rain mixed with three furry beasts is just not something I want to tackle every day.

Well, off to eat dinner, then take our dusty-cause-I-don't-have-the-heart-to-tell-the-dogs-to-stay-off-the-bed quilt out of the washer. Wonder if I could get the dogs to sleep downstairs in their crates? No chance, since Knuke is a big whiny baby.

Hopefully I can post about a wonderful game tomorrow!

Rain-Outs

Finally...a night without anything planned! Due to some out-of-the-blue massive, thundering storms, all our baseball games have so far been cancelled this week. I'm happy for a little free time. Coach, not so much. He gets grumpy when they can't play. His mood seriously reminds me of a little boy whose favorite toy truck was painted sparkly pink by a little sister and then brutally smashed to bits by an older brother. Unfair, unjust and absolutely uncalled for.

Rain-outs are that severe in our household.

So with some free time on my hands, I thought I’d be able to study for my A&P lab test and get started on some Chemistry homework. But like most well-intentioned plans, they seriously got derailed.

After finding out via text from several parents that our game was rained out and that there was no practice, I called home to see what Coach was up to. Not much, other than moping. Apparently, the most interesting thing that had happend so far today me that I had a package in the mail that arrived from St. Louis University.

A package. A big one.

My mind started racing. St. Louis University is one of the universities where I’m applying to nursing school. It’s the one I want very, very badly. Very. Badly. I started shaking and told Matt to open the envelope for me. He did, and started reading it out loud.

Dear Ms. Walters, I am very pleased to offer you admission to the Accelerated Nursing Program…

I love it when God answers prayers! I started crying and screaming right there in the car. On the highway. In rush-hour traffic.

I immediately hung up the phone with Matt and started calling everyone I knew to share the good news.

No one answered. My parents, my sister, the hospital nurse recruiter who has been helping me apply to schools. No one. Of course that's how it works.

Since I had previously been on the phone with my mother-in-law, before I called home, I called her back after leaving messages all around the country for everyone else. I was so happy she was waiting for me to call her back. I was thrilled to tell someone the news and have someone to be glad with! And even better - when I got home, Matt wanted to go out to dinner to celebrate.

Acceptance to nursing school and not having to cook dinner? That's a pretty perfect day in my opinion.

Now to get some baseball games in, and our whole household’s happiness will be complete.

Incredibly. Nervous.

Fall baseball season is almost over. And I’m nervous.

I’m one of those coach’s wives who get irrationally crazy and spastic at baseball games. I can’t sit still. I fidget and twitch. I pace behind the bleachers. I stress myself out even if we’re up by 20 in the sixth inning.

I want to win. Badly.

Which we’re doing right now – we’re nine games into the fall season, and we’ve won all nine games. Easily. Most of our games have been run-rules, happily ending the game in the fifth inning (which gives me plenty of time to make it home in time for the season premieres of my favorite fall shows. Not that my mind is on other things besides baseball, of course.).

That’s right. We’re kicking butt. But like all crazy baseball superstitions, I cannot make reference to it. If I use the “U” word, we’re jinxed. My husband is a stickler for superstitions, even dropping hints that I shouldn’t come to a game if we’ve lost the last couple I’ve attended.

Yes folks, it’s apparently my sole presence that causes the upset. Not the fact that the boys suddenly forgot how to hit or catch a ball since yesterday. It’s me and my “I Love the Coach” shirt that’s doing all the damage.

Even with all these run-rule wins, I still get nervous. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I seriously try to have confidence, but I’m an incessant worrier.

(Which actually, I come by honestly from my mother-in-law. Even though she’s two states away, I know she’s sweating these games as much as I am.)

Friday’s game was stress beyond imagination. The opposition got a run right away and led the game through the first three innings. I wanted to scream. Then we pulled our heads out of our butts and scored eight runs in the top of the 4th. We ended up winning the entire game 10-1, but I still was stressed until the very last out.

Pep talk:

In case you can't tell, Coach is the one without the batting helmet.

Hopefully all this stress is contributing to some major calorie burning.

Just thinking about the tonight game and how bad I want us to win and keep up our streak makes my stomach churn.

Thankfully, I’ll be tucked away in my chemistry class until 9:30pm, blissfully unaware of what’s happening on the baseball field – unless parents decide to text me updates, which is what happened last week. Right in the middle of my anatomy test.

On my own

I think I hold the world record for nagging phone calls that consist of “Wheeeeennnn are you going to be hooooommmmeeee???” I know my husband rues the day that he told me it was ok to add the unlimited texting feature on my cell phone, mostly due to my many Completely Necessary and Super Important texts that read: where r u? what do u want 4 dnr? Do u still luv me? Did u c Jay Leno last night?

Or maybe it’s because I like to text him pictures of the dogs in all their various stances of cuteness.

Back when I first didn’t realize what it meant to be a coach’s wife, I took it as a personal insult that my husband wouldn’t be home on Saturdays (never mind that there was a tournament), if we couldn’t go out on a date on Friday nights like we did in college or if I had to attend a wedding or a family function by my self. (Gasp! By myself? Horror of horrors!!)

Which brings up another point.

If your husband is a coach, never ever schedule a vacation, a wedding, a birth or a funeral during the season if you want him to attend. Our wedding was the week of Thanksgiving, barely squeezed in between softball and basketball seasons. As luck would have it, my birthday falls during that same week, making it that much easier for him to celebrate everything at once. See how accommodating I am?

It took me a while to understand that as a coach’s wife, I’ve got to be realistic. I have to understand that there are literally dozens of people who rely on him every day – from kids to parents to his co-workers and school administration. If he doesn’t have the support at home to go and do his job, there’s a chance he could fail miserably. If he has a bad day at school, at practice or at a game, he’s not going to want to come home to a house that’s full of nagging and “But sweetie, I’ve told you five gazillion times to take out the trash!!”

If I can’t take out the trash, change a light bulb or squash a bug without the help of a man, there’s something seriously wrong. (Except for the last part. I’ve been known to trap spiders and wait for him to come home and kill them. Freaky!!)

Bottom line, I want him to be able to come home to a sanctuary. A place of rest. And lovin’s.

That means finding creative ways to keep yourself busy when you’re home alone, and most importantly, being content with your fill-in-the-blank season widowhood. Baseball, basketball, whatever - that season will pass!

My suggestions for things to keep busy include training for marathons, volunteering at local animal shelters, working on another degree and flying to see your baby sister in Texas a couple times a year for some mega-sister-shopping-and-gossiping-time.

And rearranging the furniture. It's awfully hilarious to hear your husband come home in the dark and not know where the recliner is.

Life as a Coach's Wife

I honestly didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I had no clue what it would be like to hold the title of Coach’s Wife. Our first year of marriage was what I like to call the “The Term Major Adjustment is a Huge Understatement” year. I don’t know why, but I thought he’d be around. All the time.

Right.

First of all, it’s not like my husband keeps regular hours. He doesn’t go to school at 8am and come home at 5pm. I’ve learned the hard way that it is completely and utterly pointless to complain about his schedule. You either deal with it or you don’t, and if you don’t, then you, your husband and those around you (even the little old lady who lives down the street and knows more about your business than you do) will be miserable. I had to come to terms with the fact that yes, sometimes he has batting practice at 7am, and yes, practice days means he won’t get home until 8:00. Game days mean everything’s up in the air depending on if it’s a home game or if the game is two hours down the road.

We’ve been married almost six years now, and before that dated for almost three. In that time, my husband has held the following positions:

Assistant baseball coach, Morrisville, MO
Head baseball coach, Morrisville MO (state championship!)
Assistant Varsity basketball coach, Morrisville, MO
JV American Legion coach, Hillcrest HS, Springfield, MO
Head baseball coach, Miller, MO
Head American Legion coach, Miller, MO
Head softball coach, Miller, MO (coached softball four years, went to state all four years!)
Assistant Varsity basketball coach, Miller, MO
Head JV basketball coach, Miller, MO
Head Junior High basketball coach, Miller, MO
Head baseball coach, Licking, MO (fall and spring seasons)
Head Summer baseball coach, Licking MO
Head 8th grade basketball coach, Licking, MO

PROUD WIFE MOMENT: In that big list of coaching positions, he’s NEVER had a losing season! Seriously, people. My husband is an amazing coach.

When you’re in a smaller school system, you tend to coach more than one sport. At least that’s what I like to tell myself…the truth is, if my husband’s not coaching something, I think he’d curl up and die. Our first year of marriage, I held huge pity parties for myself the minute he walked out the door.

It was very, very, embarrassingly pathetic.

Now, well into our fifth year of marriage, if he’s home for more than three weeks without coaching or going to a game, I’m literally begging him to go find something to do. A bored husband with nothing to do makes me want to lock myself in the bathroom for an hour with a good book and a large bottle of Warm Vanilla Sugar bubble bath.

It’s pretty amazing to think that with all he’s done and accomplished, we’ve only lived in two places. First in Willard, Missouri – a great little town that served as a halfway point between my job in Springfield and his in Miller in southwest Missouri- to our current location in Licking, a little rural town in south central Missouri.

That being said, it’s always anyone’s guess when you’ll move on to a new town. If the school board doesn’t like my husband or if he has several consecutive losing seasons (like I mentioned, hasn’t happened yet!), he could find himself without a job for the next school year. Then there’s always the possibility that my husband will scout out his options for a new coaching opportunity at a new school.

Sometimes I’m not sure I want to go through the hassle of hanging pictures on the walls.

I found a great quote from an article about being a coach’s wife from the Jacksonville Times (21 November 2004). A couple coach’s wives were interviewed, and I could empathize with what they had to say:

Being a coach's wife also involves some creativity and a lot of sacrifice in terms of fashioning a career for themselves. Most wives find that they need to get into "portable'' professions due to all the moves. Joan Boudreau has a nurse's license that she has always kept current, while Carol Haluchak has been everything from a teacher to a real estate agent amid her husband's myriad job switches. "It's very hard to have a career when you're a coach's wife,'' Carol Haluchak said. "Nobody's going to spend the money to train you when you're going to be gone in a year or two.''

I totally agree. When we moved to this rural area last year, I about had a panic attack looking for a new job. My undergraduate degree is in English and I have a Master’s in Business. I had a fabulous career at an advertising agency in Springfield, MO in Account and Creative Services, mainly writing and producing radio and TV spots and doing graphic design. WHERE, in the farmlands and open spaces of south central Missouri, would I find a great position like that again? God was really helping us make this move easier - Rolla, MO – just a 45 minute drive away and the closest city – had a hospital with a great marketing department, and they just happened to have a position open for a graphic designer. Score.

But I can’t help but think about what will happen if we move again. I try so hard to have faith, that God will provide when the time comes to find a new job. But as the ladies above said, it’s just easier and a lot less stress for a coach’s wife to have a portable profession. Graphic design, while I love it and like think I’m pretty good at it, is not portable. It’s one of those positions where there are a lot of designers out there but not enough jobs to go around.

Earlier this year, my husband and I sat down for a talk about my career choices should we ever move again. After working in a hospital setting for the past year, it opened up some past desires that I had as a teenager. Medical missions. Helping and assisting the elderly. Learning how to not freak out at the sight of a needle. So I’ve started taking the classes I need to get another degree – this time a bachelor’s in Nursing. Very portable, don’t you think?

I’m pretty excited to see what the future holds. I’m always up for change – something I believe a coach’s wife should always be prepared for. Bring it!

In the Beginning...

I was always one of those girls who thought that big, empty fields were for chasing butterflies or looking for four-leaf clovers, playing princess and watching out for Prince Charming to come riding across the grass on his white horse, and creating rainbow-y bubbles with my bubble wand and bottle of soap. Fields were definitely NOT for chasing baseballs and getting your new shoes dirty. I would rather be playing dress-up with pretty skirts made of tulle, or finding the joy in sparkly lip gloss and lavender eye shadow.

I would rather babysit my sister than run after a dirty old baseball.

All of those thoughts were quickly smashed to bits when my mother signed me up for T-ball in the third grade. It was, in my opinion, a worthless attempt to get me interested in organized sports. My friends were getting base hits and catching fly balls while I was playing Airplane out in left field. The only way I got to first was if some girl even less coordinated with me overthrew the base. Needless to say, my sports days were numbered. I just know that behind my back, Coach begged my mom to reconsider my participation.

That was the start of my relationship with The Bench.

Just as I thought I was going to die of bordom, I convinced mother to let me take piano lessons instead of enduring the torture of T-ball practice every afternoon. I was giddy with the thought that my days of sitting The Bench were over.

Years later in college, I met The Boy. You know the one. Time stands still, orchestral music swirls in the background, and you are convinced that this is True Love. Nine years later, True Love looks a lot like muddy cleat marks across the kitchen floor and keeping dinner warm until baseball practice is over at 8pm.

Me, Miss I-Don't-Know-Anything-About-Sports-Nor-Do-I-Have-Any-Desire-To, married a baseball coach. It was probably because of the way he looked in his baseball pants.

So once again, I find myself on The Bench. Don't get me wrong. I love watching my husband coach. I gladly share in the joy of every heart-pounding win and want to cry with every heart-wrenching loss. But I don't know how to keep stats, I constantly get left and right field mixed up - do you look towards the outfield or towards home plate? - and, despite my dear husband patiently explaining it to me over and over, I still have no idea what constitutes for a balk.

So this is my life, me and The Bench. Supporting my husband no matter where his coaching career takes us...while dreaming of non-dusty feet and pedicures and dinner that doesn't come from the Booster Club stand.