Our Pee Adventure

It was one weekend many many months ago. My friends Susan, Kelley, and I decided to go to the mall. Nothing was out of the usual; we just went to enjoy some leisurely shopping. There usually isn’t much to do in Evansville, so we did what most teenagers do and went to the mall. The three of us went in and out of stores for about an hour or so before we grew tired of walking. We sat down at the food court to get something to eat. Susan got Chinese, I got Subway, and Kelley got a sandwich. We all just sat around and ate our food as usual, people watching at the same time.
Kelley is a funny one. She likes to crack jokes. Us three can always find a way to crack each other up, even if it’s over something stupid. People around us usually think we are insane when we are sitting there laughing over nothing, but we don’t care. I don’t remember what it was that Kelley said to make us laugh, but it must have been funny. I look over and see Susan laughing. Suddenly, her face goes from smiley to shocked to disgusted. We asked her what was wrong. She said, “I think I just peed my pants. Oh my god, oh my god, I just peed my pants.”
Honestly, it wasn’t a huge surprise to us. Susan had peed her pants once or twice before, poor girl, over silly reasons. But she was mortified. She got up and ran to the rest room. When we asked her how things were going, she just kept telling us to shut up. Meanwhile, we were trying our hardest to keep our laughter to a minimum. Finally, Susan came out of the stall.
She was reluctant at first to show us her pants. We at last got her to show us. She slowly turned around. You could definitely see where the accident occurred. We tried to be comforting, but we couldn’t do much besides laugh. Susan is a redhead and she blushes extremely easily, so she was continually growing more and more red as we continued pointing and cracking up. I’m not going to lie; it was a funny sight to see. Poor Susan with her red face and wet pants, just standing there.
We debated on what to do for awhile. We didn’t know whether to just leave and put a towel down for her in my car, or whether we should just buy her a new outfit to wear. We had a long debate about this right outside of the restroom. People passing by usually caught on to what we were doing and laughed; that made Susan feel a lot better I’m sure.
After a couple minutes, Kelley and I thought it would be nice (and funny) for it to look like we wet our pants too so that Susan could walk around the mall. We went into the bathroom and splashed water onto our butts. It wasn’t the best job, but it looked convincing. Kelley and I thought we were pretty funny, but I still don’t think Susan had the best time. Of course, we had to take advantage of the photo opportunity and take a picture of us in our peed pants. I still have that picture to this day.
Kelley and I decided we would call what we did for Susan “true friendship”. I mean, we made it look like we peed our pants just to make our friend, who really did pee her pants, feel a little better. We started using that phrase every time we would do something for the other ones; “true friendship”. This incident was several years ago, but it still holds true today.

Told you so.

My Nana

My Nana will always be the funniest, sweetest, and strongest grandma I know. If you look at her, you may only catch a glimpse of what kind of person she is. Though her wardrobe isn’t out of the ordinary as far as grandmothers go, her personality sure is. Nana never has gray hair. She is always dying it a different color. Her motto for why she doesn’t want gray hair? “I may be old, but that don’t mean I have to be gray”. She always has on a nice top, capris, and sandals or tennis shoes. If you look closely, however, you’ll usually notice that she either has on two different shoes, or that she has her shirt inside out. When we point these things out to her, instead of being embarrassed, she cracks up like it was a joke that she already knew about.
Nana is very care-free. She just goes with the flow and doesn’t really care when plans get mixed up. Nana is most known in Evansville for her Tweety Bird car. It’s a little yellow Tracker, and everything inside is Tweety Bird. The tire cover is Tweety Bird saying “I go where I’m towed”. Everyone she meets finds it hilarious, and that’s usually how people know her. Anytime she sees someone she knows, she honks the horn really loud, laughs, and waves. I always get embarrassed, but I know it’s funny at the same time. We always get a kick out of Nana. Just the little things she says and the jokes she makes are funny just because she says them.
She loves music. She sings in the church choir and loves it. She mostly loves Christian music, and old school stuff, especially Elvis. Anytime a song of his comes on that she likes she yells “Oh, sing it Elvis!” This is true of any song she likes. It happens at least five times a day, and it never gets old because after she says that, she sings along to the song. It’s probably one of the better parts of the day.
Nana is one of the strongest people I know, mentally and physically. The first time I found out how mentally strong she is was when I was in 8th grade. My Poppy had suffered a stroke, and he was alive on life-support, but brain-dead. The doctors told us that if they kept him alive, he would be a vegetable the rest of his life. Nana had to be the one to decide what to do. She decided that he wouldn’t have wanted to live as a vegetable, so she decided to let him go peacefully. For me, I had no idea how she did that. We all knew how incredibly sad and heart-broken she was, but she was able to stay strong around all of us to make it seem like she was okay. Even to this day, when things about Poppy are brought up, you can see the sadness in her eyes, but she always puts a smile on her face before we are able to ask how she is.
And, of course, Nana is strong physically. She is very fit for her age. It hurts when she gives us a loving pat on the back. I used to think it was just me that thought so, until my friend Amy received one of these pats and told me later how bad it hurt. When we would tell Nana she was hurting us, she would just laugh, tell us we were funny, and pat us again. She is seventy years old, but she is always still out in her garden. One of the best memories I have of Nana to show how strong she is would be her trip home from Florida. It was the year after my Poppy died, and they usually drove to and from Florida together in their motor home. Nana decided to make the trip by herself. The day before she came back, she hurt her right leg pretty bad. She wrapped it up and decided to wait to get back to see a doctor. We warned her to not drive the motor home and that we would be down there to get her in a couple days. The next day, we see the motor home pull up to our house. It was Nana. She limped out of the car. She had wrapped up her right leg and driven the whole way home with just the left leg. My mother was furious, of course, but you’ve got to love Nana’s strength.
Needless to say, my Nana is a hoot. I know that she’s there for me no matter what situation, and that’s what I love most about her. She is the best grandmother a girl could ask for.

Boys vs. Girls in the Utley House

Growing up, I always thought that my older brother was treated differently than me. It was never that I thought they loved him more than me, but I always knew his circumstances were definitely different than my own. Looking back, I think I can understand why. When I was younger I thought it was so unfair that he got to do more things because he was a boy. When I look at it from my parent’s view, however, I can see why they were more protective over me than they were with my brother.

My brother wasn’t exactly a good kid growing up. He was always out late and we knew he went to parties. One time, when he was 16, my parents caught him and his friend in our basement smoking weed. I was only 11 at the time, so this event seemed like an even bigger deal to me then than it does now. Of course, my parents were furious, angry, sad, but after a month of him being grounded, they got over it. Afterwards, he was still allowed to stay out late.

When I turned 16 and started wanting to go out, my parents gave me a curfew. I believe it was 11 o’clock on weekends, and I couldn’t really go out during the weekdays. I thought it was pretty fair, but when I really started to think about it, I wondered why my brother had no curfew when he was my age. They argued, “Because he’s a boy”. I used to get so angry during these conversations because I had never done anything wrong like my brother, yet I still had to be home at these certain times.

My brother moved out a couple times during high school and then again when he graduated. My parents kind of just let him do what he wanted because they knew they couldn’t stop him anyways. They would fight, make up, and then fight again. He pretty much had complete freedom once he turned 17. I, however, had a curfew up until the summer before I came to college, even though I had just turned 19. When my brother went out, they left him alone. When I went out, they had to know where I was, where I was going, who I was with, and they would also text me throughout the night. If I didn’t answer, they would call whomever I was with. I always felt like I had little freedom, and I was jealous of the freedoms my brother got when he was even younger than me.

My parents could never really explain why it was that my brother got treated differently than me. They would just tell me that boys get treated different than girls, and that it was just because I’m more likely to get hurt when I’m out late. I am also their “little girl” and, not that they love me more or anything, but I think that just makes them more protective over me. I guess I can understand that, seeing now that boys are generally more able to fend for themselves than girls are. It still doesn’t change how unfair I thought it was back then though.

Now, for my younger sister, it’s about the same as it was with me, only there are special circumstances. My sister usually doesn’t go out much, and it’s harder for her to make friends. She’s 16, and spends the majority of her time at home. She doesn’t drive, so my parents take her where she wants to go. I feel like she pretty much gets to do whatever she wants. If she wants to be out late, she can be out late, even though she’s 16. When I was 16, I had to be home by 11. I can understand why my parents are like that with her. When they see she wants to actually go out with friends and have a social life, they jump at the chance to take her places. I suppose if she had an active social life and was out all of the time like I used to be, then rules would be set for her too. It doesn’t really upset me that she doesn’t have a curfew.

When I have kids, I’m not sure if I would go in the direction my parents did. While I do see their reasoning, I don’t necessarily think it’s fair that guys get an advantage just because they were born males. Then again, maybe it’s not so fair us girls get pampered and babies just because we were born females. Who knows?

My Achievements

I must admit, I am somewhat of a procrastinator. I’ve always been an A student with ease; I have never had to worry much about getting my homework done because it came so easily to me most of the time. During my freshman and sophomore years, I could stay out with friends all night, throw together an essay in 30 minutes, and get a good grade the next day. School was always my focus, but it rarely required too much extra effort on my part.

My junior year, however, special circumstances made it harder for me to keep up with my good grades. Throughout my junior and senior years, I struggled with my epilepsy. I had brain surgery in the middle of my junior year to remove a benign brain tumor that they thought were the cause of the seizures. Needless to say, it did nothing to help, and they just kept getting worse. I was in and out of the hospital for a lot of my junior and senior year. Usually just a week or so at a time, but it made it difficult to keep up with my homework and advanced classes. I also struggle with attention deficit disorder. Without my medicine, it was extremely hard for me to get anything done. Unfortunately, my parents and my doctors thought that maybe the medicine that was helping me so much in school was actually the cause of my seizures. They made me stop taking the medicine, and I was scared about how I would continue to do my schoolwork when it was so hard to even read one assignment without getting side-tracked.

Growing up, I always knew my parents had never finished college because they got married so early. When my brother was in high school, he got in a lot of trouble, and I never expected him to go to college. I made a promise to myself early on that I would be the first one in my family to get good grades and go on to graduate college. When my epilepsy started making it harder for me to accomplish my goals, I had to realize that I had to give my all to my school in order to be successful. I decided that, despite my epilepsy and despite my A.D.D., I would do well in school to make everyone proud of me.

I would be doing homework all day during school. Whenever we had down time in one class, I would be working on homework for another. During lunch, during homeroom, even during pep rallies, I would work hard to make sure my homework was done. I was constantly checking my grades online to make sure that I was doing alright. I would get encouragement from my parents and my grandmother to keep pushing on and do well in school. My junior and senior year, I made the best grades I ever had. I got all As and one B. Looking at my report card, I felt so proud that I had overcome my struggles to do well in school. My family was very proud of me as well, and they are happy to see me here at college working hard to achieve even bigger goals. Looking around me, I see people with even bigger obstacles than I had that are achieving much more than I am. That makes me very humble and it makes me feel very lucky for the life I lead. It also pushes me even harder to take advantage of what I have and to be the best that I can be.

My Elementary Experiences

Thinking back on school, all of my most vivid memories seem to focus around a crush of some sort. For everyone else in school, it seemed easy for them to go up and talked to the boy they liked and ask them out. For me, it was different. Up until middle or high school, I was extremely shy. I don’t know if it was because I felt self conscious because of my glasses or if I really was just a quiet person, but it was hard for me to talk to people. I always had a couple of good friends that I relied on to make me happy, and that was all I needed. When it came to boys, however, my best friends were always the ones making trouble for me.

My first boy memory was in kindergarten. Brendan Kassel was playing with this girl Rachel Toby and me at recess. We had this fake life-size house in our room, and we were all playing house. For some reason, Brendan decided he wanted a girlfriend. He couldn’t decide if he wanted me or Rachel, so he played a game to give us both equal chance: eenie meenie miney mo. He went back and forth between us as the choosing game progressed. I was extremely nervous; I don’t think I breathed the whole time. When his finger finally landed on me, a huge smile escaped my face; I had a boyfriend. Now, it’s not like anything happened. We never held hands, he never kissed my cheek, and I never introduced him to Mom and Dad, but just the fact that I was chosen to be someone’s girlfriend made my day.

My next boy experience wasn’t as nice and pleasant. It was second grade, and my best friend was Diana Mewes. I told her everything, and so did she. Ever since first grade I had had the biggest crush on a boy named Cody Grable. He had sandy blonde hair, and he was the cutest boy I had ever seen. Of course, being my best friend, I told Diane that. Bad idea. We were sitting on the swings during recess, and Cody comes up on the other side to play. Diane, not being a good secret keeper, says “Hey Cody! Katelyn’s in love with you and wants you to be her boyfriend!” Then what does she do? She runs, leaving me there, shocked, with the man of my dreams sitting there. What does he say? Not a single word. Nothing. Mortified, I ran to the slide to cry.

I forgave Diane instantly, because it wasn’t like me to get mad, but that day stuck with me for years, up until high school I think. I couldn’t even look at Cody in class. When he would be within two feet of me I would hang my head in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t see me. If I hadn’t liked him so much, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But my crush on Cody Grable lasted until 6th grade. To be honest, I think it was events like that that made me so self-conscious and shy in school. I thought the worst thing in the world was to be rejected, so I just didn’t put myself out there. Looking back, I feel stupid for letting such a silly thing get to me, but in all honesty, that one day on the swings will always stick with me.

My First Week of College

This has probably been the longest week of my life. There has been too much going on to even keep track of it all. There were so many new people to meet, so many new places to see, and so much new stuff to get used to. So far, I have loved it. I moved in early and met my roommates the next day. Despite a few minor setbacks, we have all gotten along great. We decorated our common room with movie posters and a Hannah Montana rug, and our rooms are starting to feel more comfortable and more like home. My first week away from home has been weird, and I must admit that I've already had some homesickness. Luckily, I live really close so I was able to visit my family a few times already.

I wasn't able to make it to all of the Welcome Week activities, but the ones I did go to were a blast. The scavenger hunt was fun, and so was the free photo booth. Starting school was definitely a new experience. The only class I had my first day was this English class, and I loved the girls and my professor in it. English is one of my favorite subjects so I was pleased that it went well. The second day, however, I misread the schedule and missed three of my classes. Apparently TR next to your class means Thursdays AND Tuesdays. Who knew? That stressed me out quite a bit, but I got it worked out. For the most part, my professors were nice about it. College classes are definitely different from high school classes. I've always been a good student, but I find some of the classes here to be a little harder. I like the challenge though. I'm eager to see how well I can keep up with my classes.

Wednesday was Fun Fest, and I definitely enjoyed that a lot. I got tons of free food, and I won some sweatpants and a t-shirt (not going to lie, I love those sweatpants more than life). Within a week I already feel closer to my roommates and to some of the girls living on my floor. Even though I have homework already, I love college. It has been a great experience. It has definitely been a huge adjustment for me, but I feel excited and I can't wait to see what it has in store for me.