Christmas without Cody

When Cody and I first moved in together shortly after becoming engaged, I envisioned decorating Christmas trees, baking goodies, wrapping gifts, and nestling into bed to dream of sugarplum fairies together.  We would watch all of our favorite Christmas movies and attend Christmas parties together.  We would go to the candlelight service at whatever Episcopal church happened to be in the same town as the two of us and attend each other's family Christmases together.  The theme of all of this was togetherness.  Now, on our first Christmas as a married couple--on the day marking six months of marriage and six years of dating--we are over a hundred miles away from one another.

I would have willingly gone to Valparaiso--after Christmas morning with my family, that is.  Even at twenty-four, I'm not sure that I am ready to give up that time with my parents and sister just yet.  There are too many traditions, and I would love for Cody to be a part of those.  Unfortunately, there are certain priorities that at this point in our marriage have to take precedence over spending time together.  The primary one is earning enough that we can pay our bills and keep adding to our nest egg.  So at this moment, while I am listening to the animated version of The Grinch playing on the television behind me and relaxing after an intense game of euchre with my family, Cody is asleep with a kitten on the eight hour break he has between the double he pulled last night into this afternoon and the night shift he will start in three hours.  He doesn't mind because he gets holiday pay, but he also really misses being with family right now.  I miss him too, especially last night at a Christmas Eve party we attend every year.  I know people were only asking why Cody was absent and why I was not with him if he couldn't be home out of genuine curiosity, but it was upsetting nonetheless.

In the two years that we lived together full time and the year and a half that we have been living together on weekends, we have only decorated a tree or gone to a candlelight service together once.  Cody has never watched A Muppet Christmas Carol with me or stayed the night with me on Christmas Eve.  We've only baked goodies together a couple of years.  Our Christmases have remained strangely separate, but, God willing, that will change next year.  Besides, I'll give up one holiday with my husband in order to spend three days in New York City with him.  We leave in three days!  Stay tuned!

Becoming "Parents"

First of all, I apologize for being horribly delinquent in my writing.  Perhaps the one downfall of writing a blog about one's life is that one has to first go out and live it, leaving little time for the recording of events.  At any rate, since it is Christmas, I am going to give my followers the gift of my blathering.  And so, without further ado, how Cody and I have become "parents."

About a month ago, Cody approached me about getting another pet.  This is not the first time that he has brought up the topic.  Even though Thorin spends most of his time with his daddy, Cody still considers him to be my rabbit.  Thorin prefers to be held by me.  He gets much more excited at seeing me than Cody.  Most of all, I chose him, bought him, and named him without Cody.  When we brought Thorin into the family three years ago, Cody and I were only dating, and the rabbits were a McPheeters family decision--okay, Dad wasn't involved in this decision and was pretty much told to deal with the bunnies, but that is another blog post for another day.  Because of this, Cody wants a pet that wasn't simply considered mine and later "adopted" by him.  If given a chance, that "together pet" would be a dog.  Cody has wanted a dog for a very long time now, but apartment regulations and a rabbit that freaked out the one time he saw a puppy have kept this wish from coming to fruition.  Due to these issues and the fact that neither of us are home enough to give a dog all of the attention it requires, Cody has been researching pets that require less upkeep.  We've discussed ferrets, chinchillas, birds of sundry species, and a plethora of reptiles.  The one animal we didn't really talk about, however, was one of the feline persuasion.

Because I knew of Cody's desire to have another pet in the family, I didn't turn a deaf ear to my friend, Sara, when she began to tell me of all the new kittens cropping up around her.  Two were found in Hillsboro when some high school boys decided it would be a hilarious idea to try to kill them.  Then she found out that her neighbor's cat is pregnant.  Finally, the organization for which Sara's sister works placing animals in new homes acquired a beautiful tabby cat and her kittens.

Cody and I just couldn't say no to the picture Sara sent us of a gorgeous, seven week old tabby kitten.  My adorable husband spent hours researching how to raise a kitten and how to successfully introduce a kitten and rabbit to each other without having horrible problems.  When we decided that we were in fact going to get the cat, Cody went out and spent nearly a hundred dollars on toys and equipment for her.  The only real contribution I made was her name.  She is just such a beautiful and distinctly marked tabby that the only name to give her was Minerva, after Professor McGonagall (the witch who can turn herself into a cat) in the Harry Potter series.  She gets called Minnie quite a bit, though.

I feel that Minnie will be good for Cody and I.  She is our first "free-range" pet, since Thorin only gets out of his cage when we are at the apartment.  She was also excellent practice for having a newborn since the first night we had her she woke me up every two hours with her crying.  Little creep slept through the night for Cody two nights ago, though... And even though Thorin is a mama's boy and prefers me, we have no need to worry about Minerva doing the same.  She has already imprinted strongly on her daddy.  I'm just an adequate substitute.  Besides, Cody needs someone else to keep him company in the apartment.  I only hope that my baby (Thorin) learns to love Minerva as much as we do now.

Staring at Clocks

Recently I've found myself unable to live in the moment.  Instead, I find myself constantly searching out and staring at clocks.  Perhaps it's due to my new-found compulsion to count how many hours I have left with my husband--a habit that I am sure is as unhealthy as my many other neuroses (patting my left then right pockets for keys and cell phone every time I exit my vehicle comes to mind).  This new obsession came into sharp relief over Thanksgiving, when Cody and I were able to spend four nearly-glorious days together.

As has been mentioned countless times as being the bane of our marriage, Cody's and my sleep schedules once again became an obstacle over Thanksgiving.  A prime example is Saturday.  I woke up when Cody came in from working third shift, and we went out to brunch at one of our favorite hole-in-the-wall places downtown.  After overfilling ourselves on our favorite breakfast fare and having a waitress spill gravy on my thigh, we walked back to the apartment. Since Cody wasn't quite tired we relaxed together in the living room, talking about everything while he played Skyrim.  (This resulted in a discussion comparing and contrasting this fantasy world to Middle Earth...oh yes, we're those people.)  Finally, about three o'clock, Cody decided to go to sleep.  I believe a combination of not having grading to do and tryptophan made it so that I napped a lot over break.  I decided to join Cody, but I didn't sleep long.  I woke up at four, and Cody asked me to wake him up around five thirty.

So what does this have to do with clocks?  This sounds like a lovely beginning to the day!  After leaving Cody to sleep, I lounged in chaise-bliss watching ridiculousness on Netflix, all the while keeping an eye on the clock's minute hand slowly winding its way around its mahogany face toward the six.  "Twenty minutes until I need to wake up Cody."  "Five minutes until I need to wake up Cody."  When I descended the three steps into our bedroom, however, I was greeted with grunts about the need to sleep more.  Try seven.  More time passed.  "Twenty minutes until I need to wake up Cody."  "Five minutes until I need to wake up Cody."  More groaning mingled with the reply, "Let me sleep until 8:30."  This dance continued until 10:30, giving me a full six and a half hours of clock-watching.  I understand that Cody couldn't know how much sleep he would need.  Sometimes he can function perfectly after sleeping for a mere three hours; other times he needs a minimum of seven hours of unconsciousness to be able to drag himself back to work, especially after having a difficult night with clients the night before.  Regardless, I felt trapped in the apartment, doomed to watch campy television shows and stare at spinning hands as my mini-vacation slipped away from me.  If I had known that Cody would have needed that much sleep, I would have perused Barnes and Noble or sipped a mocha at Starbucks (or perhaps both, since B&N was so clever about that combination!).  Yes, Cody could have just set an alarm, but we both think I provide a much nicer wake-up service than the buzzer on Cody's phone that sends anyone in earshot jolting out of whatever piece of furniture happens to reside under their buttocks.  Plus, my mother instilled a near-phobia in me of being out and about by myself after dark.  This coupled with my overactive imagination makes it a wonder I haven't stabbed some innocent bystander in the eye with a key yet...  But back to the point: I couldn't enjoy that time I had as the sole conscious being in the apartment because I was so busy counting the time until Cody would wake up and how much time we would actually get to spend with each other over break.  (Not counting the couple of naps we took together, we were in each other's company for a grand total of 23 hours over the course of fourdays.)

Now that I am back to my normal weekday life of teaching and exhaustion, an interesting thing has happened.  The clock in my classroom started seizing.  New batteries didn't help the matter, and even after taking apart the clock I couldn't figure out what its issue was.  Suddenly there is no clock to tell me how much time I have left for instruction in a class period.  There is no point on the wall upon which students eyes become fixed and glaze over about five minutes before the bell.  My students keep begging me to put in a work order to get a new clock.  I'm not sure what I'll do; it's honestly quite nice to have a place in which I do not feel the need to stare at clocks.

My Students Saw "Kendra" and I Saw Cody

For readers that do not remember what I do for a living, I work as an English teacher in a rural school in west central Indiana.  One of the new classes that I am teaching this semester is an introductory debate course--the first to be seen at my school.  I love that I am able to bring new electives into my work environment and expose students to different sides of English, and working with debate takes me back two years to my senior year of college.  At that point in time, I was a coaching assistant for West Lafayette's debate program (which, for those unfamiliar with debate in Indiana, is a seriously competitive program), and I enjoy teaching more now that I am able to bring research and persuasion skills into my classroom with an enthusiasm that only debate can instill.

Last weekend, my students and I took a short bus (complete with a plethora of problems from randomly dimming headlights to a slipping transmission) to my husband's town in order to compete at the local high school.  I truly enjoyed being able to take my students to see my weekend world.  They loved how big the "city" was, how many shops and restaurants there were to see while driving through the downtown area, and that they could ask for a review of a given business and--ninety percent of the time--receive an opinion from someone who has been a patron of the establishment.  I acted as a tour guide, telling them where I frequent, which beautiful buildings to note, and what area of town I call my home away from home.

As much as I enjoyed chauffeuring my students around town, my time in the city was bittersweet.  After waking up at 3:30am to get my students to the debate tournament on time, knowing that there was a comfy bed just across town that almost literally had my name on it was torture.  Added to the fact that I knew I wouldn't get to see much of my hubby, I was all but ready to tell the kids to drive on home while I reveled in the comfort of an apartment in which I spend too little time.  Passing our Saturday market, our Sunday coffeehouse, and the gardens in which we like to eat brunch and people-watch made me especially other-homesick.

Thankfully, Cody made the fantasies of abandoning my students to their own devices in order to have my normal weekend disappear.  He was able to support me in my new coaching position by judging the congress section of the debate.  Even though he had worked third shift that night, he came to the high school right after he clocked out and was ready to go.  His dedication to fulfilling one of my needs with regard to work is just another example of how considerate and selfless Cody is.  Since last weekend was his weekend off, he even drove back to our hometown and stayed with me for the duration of Saturday and Sunday.  Granted, my fifteen hour day on Saturday put me back home at what seemed like an ungodly hour of the...evening (especially after having driven for six and a half hours that day), I managed to find a second wind when I reached home solely due to the prospect of having time with my husband.

Unfortunately, next weekend brings another debate competition.  I am looking forward to bringing new debaters to a tournament--and those who went last weekend can attest to how wonderful and awe-inspiring of an experience one's first debate competition is--but I am loath to lose an entire weekend with my husband. He works all weekend, so there is no chance of him sneaking home this time.  I suppose I just need to think positively.  In seventeen days, we will have a long weekend for Thanksgiving, and I already know what I am thankful for.

Forget Time Zones, Let's Switch Circadian Rhythms!

Having enough time to see and converse with my husband is difficult enough to manage being a timezone apart.  After all, I teach during the day and he goes to class in the evening.  I work Monday through Friday, and he normally works weekend hours.  By the time he gets out of class during the week at 9:30 Central Time, all good Eastern Standard Time teachers should be on their way to bed if not already asleep.  We had managed to find a schedule that worked well for us--we called each other when I drove to work in the morning (at 5:30 Cody's time), spoke when I left from work around 4pm my time, talked briefly before he went into class at six his time (which normally coincided with my dinner), and then finally when he got out of class.  Of course, this last phone call was more of a groggy Iloveyougoodnight on my part than an actual conversation.  On weekends, we spent as much time together in the town in which Cody lives as possible.  When he had to work, I enjoyed some rare me-time or prepared for teaching for the next week.

Recently, a new monkey-wrench was introduced into our already complicated, clock-watching marriage.  Cody was, thankfully, offered a full-time position at the facility in which he has worked for a few months as an  as-needed tech.  The one downside is that the position is strictly night shift.  Now our week-day phone conversations have been altered.  Cody takes his break when he knows I'll be on the road in the morning; we speak briefly before he has class and before I go to sleep.  Our conversations are shorter and more hurried.  We sometimes have to recap days of our lives rather than mere hours.

Weekends have also taken a turn.  Cody has every other weekend off, but on those weekends in which he does work, I spend most of the day alone.  He wakes up sometime between three and six in the afternoon.  To compensate for this, I wake up and we go out for breakfast when he gets off work in the morning.  Afterward, he goes to sleep.  It gives us some time to connect before those hours of quiet solitude.  I lie down with him until he goes to sleep, just like he does with me at night when he doesn't have to work.  Sundays provide a slightly different agenda since I have to leave by 3pm Central Time.  Cody does his best to stay up until one or later so we have that last bit of time together.  We both become upset when our time together draws to a close, and we find ourselves doing something that I hate--counting down the days until the weekend, which makes me feel as if I'm wishing away my life.

Dealing with a change from having a diurnal husband to a nocturnal one has been interesting.  As difficult as the transition has been, however, I appreciate that we are able to take that struggle in stride and adapt to a new situation.  Being able to handle circumstances like these give me confidence in the stability of our budding marriage (four months today!) and make me look forward even more to that time in which we will be able to live together once again.

How We Became LATers

Whether due to the current job market, more rigorous requirements for getting into and paying for college, or a combination of these factors, more married couples are living separately without any marital problem being the cause. In fact, according to the US Census Bureau, an estimated 3.2 million American couples are currently living separately—a whopping 26 percent increase since 1999. While I cannot vouch for the reasons of the other 3,199,999 couples, I can give a glimpse into the life of one no-longer-cohabitating married couple—my husband, Cody, and I. Before regaling invisible readers with details of the weekend-to-weekend lives we lead, however, an introductory entry is necessary.

Cody and I moved in together our junior year of our undergraduate studies at Purdue University after becoming engaged. We lived with another Purdue student—which I don’t recommend to beginning cohabitators as this venture did not work well at all—and grew into a couple conscious of one another’s habits and pet peeves. Cody became easily agitated with me because I had been coddled as a young adult still living at home and had only a rudimentary knowledge of cooking, cleaning, and laundry through living in the dorms for two years. I became irked with his persistence that laundry (my designated chore) be done every other day; I didn’t realize that he had so few items of clothing for work and that he had to do laundry that often.

Over the course of what remained of our time at Purdue, we grew into a functioning couple who were able to branch out into our own apartment, to begin working as a unit to split up chores, and to perform tasks as well any well-oiled married machine. Our plan was to move wherever Cody got into graduate school for psychology and have me start teaching nearby. After that year of cohabitating bliss, we were going to be married on June 25, 2011 and have an already-established home in which to return after the honeymoon. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas for us.

Cody was accepted into Valparaiso University’s Clinical Mental Health Counseling program. I was offered a job by one school thanks to the state of the job market in English education (and, quite honestly, teaching in general) at a rural school located a whopping two and a half hours away from Cody. We had an enormous decision to make: did I give up a job in my field in order to live with my fiancé, or did we live apart for a year in the hope that I would find a job near Valparaiso the following school year? Given the first paragraph of this entry, we obviously chose the former.

The first year living apart was difficult. I moved back in with my parents. They live forty-five minutes away from my school, which is located in such a rural area that finding an apartment complex within a half hour is an impossibility. Adjusting to life under my parents’ roof was as difficult for me as living completely alone was for Cody. He took custody of our only child, an American chinchilla rabbit named Thorin, in order to give him some company. We saw each other on weekends, and at first we were so stressed and frustrated at being apart that we fought constantly. After a couple of months we were finally able to unwind and adjust enough to realize that those few hours we spend in each other’s physical presence a week are too precious to waste by complaining and arguing.

We are now in our second year of being LATers (a married couple who Lives Apart Together). Due to the retirement of my department head, I was offered classes that I couldn’t give up in order to look for a job that may or may not be as rewarding. Aside from that fact, Cody only has another year in his Master’s before he moves on (Lord knows where) to finish his Ph.D. We are in limbo at the moment and are waiting to figure out where we are supposed to be for the next chapter in our lives. In the meantime, we are still living separately and hoping to one day have lives that coincide with one another’s career goals.