Easily Excitable

After a nice three week break from writing, I’m back to it, here in the longest month of the year!

I would love to say that, in those three weeks, I was coming up with genius ideas and doing deep philosophical deliberations, but the truth is that we’ve been traveling a good bit, and I’ve been enjoying a lot of family time. 

That time off school seemed like it should coincide with time off writing, and it did me well. So, here’s a little recap of the past couple of weeks and a couple thoughts on the new year. 

So, over the holidays…

We did all of the traveling and hanging out this Christmas season: we celebrated Jesus’ birthday in a big way, with travel to Memphis, Christmas lights, gift swaps, Christmas day fun, lots of food, and (of course!) the annual Meadows family movie trip. 

That is an overview. I could write an entire post over it. 

There is nothing quite like Christmastime.

We capped it all off with a trip out west.

That’s right: the family took on Whitefish, Montana for the second year. 

I promise to write a post later on detailing this ski trip. 

One of my favorite writings last year was the recap of that pilgrimage. This year was another delight, and I have a fresh new host of stories for you on that. 

Sneak peek? Glad you asked.

I’m still an awful skier. I’m really quite horrible. 

Also, something that hasn’t changed since our previous skiing trip? There is nothing funnier than seeing someone you love fall while skiing. 

Going back to school in January? Still not easy. 

I hold this truth to be self-evident: there is NO worse month to teach than January. I discussed this with our Meadows Matron Saint, my sister-in-law, Hanna: she is a former Atlanta school teacher.

We agreed that, when you go back to school in August, there is at least some excitement. Everyone is thrilled…at least for the first little bit. Things are new and exciting. 

We’re all tan. We look good in white. We see a lot of sunlight across the day.

At this time? In this month? No one is excited. We’re all pasty. We’re all cold. The sun sets at 3:57 PM.

January is a slog. 

On the upside, I will say this January is semi-flying-by. 

Thanks be to God.

Motivation has been hard to find. 

I know that, at the beginning of the year, we’re all supposed to be up to our eyeballs in goals, healthy habits, and New Year Resolutions. 

I used to drink that Kool-Aid. Once upon a time, in a day long ago, I loved setting goals in January. This year? I’m no longer interested.

Me personally? New Year, same ol’ me!

I am pasty. I am cold. I am not motivated to start some new upheaval of my life.

It’s made getting up and going all the more difficult. 

I’ve been having to bully myself into going to the gym. One side of me is screaming for me to GIDDY UP, and the other side of me is screaming for mercy. 

It’s a raucous time in my brain. 

One area where I DO have some motivation to make a change? 

I am dying to read more. That is one regret I have from last year. 

August through mid- December was the biggest reading drought I’ve ever had. Hear me, and hear me good: I didn’t read a single book. 

This has never happened before: by the end of 2025, I wasn’t ever sure I was still literate. 

Do you know how hard it is to teach reading to students when you’re not even sure if you can still read yourself? 

However, Hanna (again, is there anything my sister-in-law can’t do?) got me back into reading with The Briar Club by Kate Quinn. 

It was phenomenal. 

Now, I’m on my second book of the year. In three weeks of 2026, I’ve read more than three months of 2025. 

I’ll count that as a win- significant progress in this year of our Lord. 

Here’s to *hopefully* more sports this year, too. 

Along with my goal of reading more, I’d also like to play outside more. 

Last year, we played less pickleball than we ever have. The two years prior, when we first started, Trey and I fell in love with it, and it was an oddity when we were playing less than three times a week. 

Between recreation play and tournaments, it took up a large place in our lives: pickleball was an emotional attachment- emotional to the point where it *probably* wasn’t healthy personally or maritally. 

In short? Trey and I turn on each other. We’re too competitive, too try-hard, not to. 

Now, we play once or twice a month: if we could increase that a bit- without the emotional investment- I’d appreciate that. 

What’s more, I’ve started being serious about golf. 

Okay, okay, serious is a generous term. Let’s just say I’m more invested. I pretend I know what I’m doing, rather than being content to swing that golf bat all willy-nilly.

I would like to go on the record and say that I firmly believe golf is the least natural sport known to mankind. 

Maybe it’s just unnatural to me. 

See, for one, you have to be quiet. Second, there are all these unspoken rules and manners- like not picking up someone else’s ball- that everyone (one’s husband) expects you to know. 

Third, you must remember 1,578 things in each swing, of which the most difficult is remembering to look at the ball all the way through. 

At any rate, I’d like to get better at it this year. 

On a golf foray with Uncle Labe, Aunt Laura, and Trey, I kept score for the first time: it hurt my feelings. Something about scoring 258 points in a sport where you’re aiming to score low has the propensity to step on your toes a bit.

Here’s to lower scores and the humility only golf can bring.  

I’m waiting on the second-half maturity for my kiddos. 

One thing I’ve learned about teaching the front-years of high school is that these younger ones do a lot of maturing across a year. 

The past couple of years, alongside 9th and 10th, I also taught 11th graders. It was my first experience with the older half. I never knew what a wide gap there was. 

Want to hear something crazy? 

For the most part, you don’t really need to tell them to pipe down. Or stay in their seats. Or stop touching their neighbor. Or stop destroying the expo markers.

It was jarring, really. 

Now, I’m solely teaching 9th and 10th graders. Don’t get me wrong: I do believe this is where I need to be. I love teaching the younger youths. 

I adore the chaos their silliness brings to my life. 

But really, the ‘growth period’ is October to February. It’s not dissimilar from being on a bucking bronco. You just need to hang on for dear life. 

Somehow, some way, something happens after those four months, and you walk in and are greeted by somewhat (let’s be real here, they are still teenagers) sensible human beings (again, I can’t emphasize enough, they are still teenagers- sensibility looks different here).

That maturity is coming. I’m looking forward to it. 

I’m glad to be home…for a bit. 

Last year, Trey and I traveled more than we ever have. This is a great part of our stage of life: we’re still in the ‘friends are getting married’ stage. 

This prompted us to travel to Cabo, Houston, and Denver last year. 

That, along with the Whitefish trip we took last year in January, left us (me) more cultured and more airport-savvy. 

However, this first part of the year is normally more local and more relaxed: I’m excited about that. 

A slow Saturday morning is the most underrated end to a week: I love kicking off the day with early morning pickleball, but sleeping in, studying, writing, and drinking coffee are hard to beat. 

Boone is thrilled about his humans spending the day with him, too.  

January has always been my least favorite month. 

I’m partial to hot weather and abundant sunshine: I like planting things, being able to sit in the yard, not having to wear long pants. 

It’s the little things, right? 

All the same, I’ve come to appreciate (though I won’t go so far as to say love) this month. It’s structured and calm in comparison to the marathon that is October- December.

I’m thankful for that, and I’m excited for the fun that is to come this year. 

Happy 2026, folks. Praying it’ll be a great year for us all.