Monday, April 30, 2012

Z is for Zippity Do Dah Day!

      Zippity Do Dah is an Academy award winning song from the 1946 Disney classic feature film “Song of the South”.  It is a wonderful day filled with sunshine and happiness.  Shouting Zippity Do Dah may get you a few odd looks, smirks, and out right smiles but it will also spread happiness to all the poor unfortunate miserable souls around you.  It is one of those happy phrases that make others wonder just what you are so happy about. 

      Saying it at the butt crack of dawn on Monday morning may confirm your admittance to the loony bin in a lot of people’s minds.  A lot of people can not handle a person who believes that unicorns eat butterflies and poop out rainbows.  Just think about that for a minute.  How many people can turn $hit into rainbows and happiness? You have to admit, THAT is a gift.

          Have you ever wondered why people are OK with a person being happy, but being a little too happy gives people pause?  Why not be happy?  Why not have your giggles bubbling up from deep in your soul at the craziest moments?  It is a gift when you can find just one more reason for being glad.  Even in life’s darkest hour there should be laughter and there should be an accounting of blessings.   I am so thankful that even in the face of adversity it is a gift I possess.

     I haven’t always had this annoying sunny disposition.  I haven’t always been high on life.  At many times, life just plain sucked and it was really hard to get passed that.  There were times when I couldn’t find the ridiculous or the hilarity anywhere.  I was miserable and depressed and very much the epitome of my favorite Winnie the Pooh character Eeyore.  I was afraid to speak my mind.  I was afraid to be too happy for fear of what others would think.  

      As I have grown older that fear has receded.  When I am extremely nervous or anxious, giggles will rise to the surface, my words will tumble over themselves and I will focus on the funny.   Where I would once recede into the quiet, shy depths of fear of what others might or did think, now I have been possessed  with a refreshing half past give a $hit attitude.  Honestly I credit it to the early throes of menopause.  My confidence has risen like a phoenix from G0d only knows where.  I must have always had the ability to be this way buried deep inside me but I often wonder how my life would have been different if this Kathy would have emerged earlier.

     Why worry about things you can not change?  Why moan about the cruelties of life?  Why not find a reason to be glad, take stock in your blessings daily, and celebrate them?  I admit the last several days have been dark with worry here in my neck of the woods.  I realize all I can do is the best I can with the hand I am dealt.   

      I have completed the 2012 A-Z Blogging Challenge!!  I am breaking out the bubbly and doing a happy dance until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Sunday, April 29, 2012


     After my son’s accident on Thursday I haven’t slept much.  My constant battle with the fever that cropped up early Saturday morning has left me feeling strung out and overly tired.  The doctor has prescribed rest and antibiotics for my son.  I wish he would have prescribed some for me.  I desperately need some.  Despite my ministrations, his fever raged on through all of Saturday and into today causing my worry to escalate and more intense one on one phone consultations with our doctor.

      I feel as I have been transported back into time to the days when my son was a newborn and I would constantly check on him while he was sleeping to insure he was in fact breathing.  I was a typical mother of a newborn.  I hovered over my baby worrying about whether he was breathing, eating enough, sleeping enough, crying to much, or if his poop was the right consistency.  I must have driven our doctor insane with my worries!  Since my son’s concussion I have been frozen in a constant state of worry.  Yes, I have prayed.  I have found seeing our doctor and trusting him to have the situation well in hand has calmed my fears a bit.  The adrenaline that fueled my panicked worry has fled me and left me feeling strung out and exhausted.  I still worry that my son will miss another day of school due to the fever that has stuck around.  The rule of thumb is that a child must be fever free for a full 24 hours before he is able to return to school.  As of yet, that hasn’t happened.

      I counted my blessings that at least he hadn’t vomited and only felt nauseated.  Feeling nauseated is perfectly normal when there is swelling on the brain they say.   Then my son vomited, and that obviously temporary feeling of things returning to as they should be fled and the worries returned.

     I am so tired, but do I dare rest?  He may need me.  There is laundry to finish up.  The groceries had to be bought and put away. The dishes had to be done.  I must write to fulfill my goal to blog each day for NaBloPoMo.  Is the washing machine and dryer finished with their cycles all ready?  The silence tells me they are.  It is time to put in more and fold more.  It is fast approaching 7:00 pm.  There is supper to be fixed and eaten. 


     Where did the day go?  Why do I feel like I haven’t accomplished a thing when I have?  Go lie down and rest my husband insists on one of his many calls today.  I can’t.  I must do this, this, this, and this first.  It is time for my son to have more antibiotic again.  It is never ending and time marches on leaving me in the dust.  Am I moving in slow motion while the clock speeds up?  There is no rest for the wicked, but hopefully one day soon there will be until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Y is for Yell in the Night

      Is there anything more terrifying than the unknown?  Let me rephrase that.  Is there anything more terrifying than having your child hurt and taking a rapid turn for the worse?  Tonight I think NOT.   One question before I get started, why am I always ALONE when $hit happens?  The answer is because my husband is a truck driver and is on the road.  Let us rewind and reverse and bring you up to speed.   
       My nightmare started Thursday afternoon with a phone call from the nurse at my son’s school.  It was unexpected.  Things like this usually are.  You can’t prepare yourself.  You simply have to live through it and pray for strength to persevere. My son had taken a nasty fall plummeting to the ground from the top of the tallest slide.  He WHAT??  The nurse relayed that he had been in her office for almost an hour.  She had been applying ice to his head, checked his ear for bleeding, but thought I needed to come immediately.  I gave a primal yell of fear, and with tears in my eyes I raced to the school to find my son lethargic unsure what happened.

        Fear drove me to pick up my daughter from her school and race to the local hospital’s emergency room.  My horror turned to anger as I was faced with a nurse practitioner instead of a physician who told me that I shouldn’t have brought him.  Give him Motrin, ice his head, and go home.  She was rude.  She ordered no tests.  Not knowing what else to do, I took my son home and continued to minister to him myself.  He was dizzy, nauseated, and not himself.  He took a nose dive and tripped over a bean bag chair sending him sprawling face first on the floor.  Once again I rushed for ice.  My poor baby needs to slow down!!

        By the next day, he woke up in pain.  His ear hurt.  His head hurt.  His legs hurt.  He felt sick to his tummy.  Needless to say I kept him home from school.  Progressively he has gotten worse.  I kept giving him Motrin to alleviate the pain.  He almost seemed back to himself.  He fell asleep beside me.  I had to keep my baby close. "Please dear Je$u$ hold and protect my baby!" I beg through my tears.

      In the night he yelled.  I awoke to discover him burning up with fever screaming, crying that his head hurt.  He felt like he was going to throw up. Oh no!! Get the bowl.  “It won’t come out!!” he wailed.  I soothed him with a wet wash rag and gave him more Motrin.  My fear had elevated to a fever pitch.  Panicked I called my doctor at home.  He listened to me pour out my woes.  Give him sips of water and no food.  No problem there, he hasn’t had an appetite since the accident.  I was advised to bring him to his office through the emergency entrance.  The doctor thinks an infection has formed at the site of his injury.  My brain struggled to grasp everything the doctor told me.  He needs antibiotics.  Oh my!!  I calm my baby the best I can and wait.  Finally he sleeps, but I can’t.  Worry drives me on.

         At this dark hour, a poem my Dad insisted on teaching me from little on up comes into my head and it is like him reaching out to me in my darkest hour.

              The night was dark
              The sky was blue
               Around the corner the $hit wagon flew
               There was a scream 
               A yell was heard
                A man got killed by a flying turd.

Somehow those words seem oddly appropriate right now.  Is it odd in the face of my fear I am waxing poetic in the light before the dawn?  The $hit has certainly been flying around here at horrific wind speeds.  Screams and yells were definitely heard and I definitely feel like I have been hit proving I am a few sandwiches short of a picnic and almost ready for the funny farm until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Friday, April 27, 2012

X is for X’s and O’s

     According to the Urban dictionary people have been signing their letters with X’s and O’s since around the turn of the century.  What could be better than sending hugs and kisses?  Think about it, how sweet is that?  Hallmark puts X’s and O’s on lots of their greeting cards intended to be given from the little kid sect.  After folks get a certain age the card company must figure people grow out of hugs and kisses and move on to something more meaningful and passionate.   Maybe it is because once you get a little older you are a little more adept at forming your alphabet and can manage something a little more intricate than a mere X and an O. 

      I don’t think anyone can truly grow out of hugs and kisses.  Everyone needs love and affection.  In my opinion, this world would be a much happier place if people gave X’s and O’s a little more freely.  It is the thought that counts, right? It is not like you are actually kissing everyone.  G0d only knows kissing just anything could result in a lip fungus that would never go away or cooties!

      In this computer driven age  X’s and O’s have been replaced with smiley faces and text messaging shortcuts.  As a text messaging computer driven society we LOL and LMAO instead of getting to touchy feely and X and Oing people.  It just isn’t done.  If you think about it, how many people do you really want to hug and kiss besides your significant other and your kids  once you get past the age of say 5?  I might be pretty giving in the hugs department, (HUGS), but I am not likely to pass out kisses to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.  Still it is a lovely thought!

         Signing that text with X’s and O’s just drips romance.  The next time I text my husband I just may give it a whirl!!  It would be the perfect way to send hugs and kisses over the miles.  It is certainly one that hasn’t crossed my mind before.  Even though I tend to gag at people that kiss the air at each other (kiss, kiss), the X’s and O’s thing is kind of sweet and innocent.  It screams LOVE and affection, and the more I think about it, the more I like it!!  Signing off with X’s and O’s because deep down, I am that kind of girl until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

W is for Walk

         When we are babies our first biggest accomplishment is learning how to walk.  We start out rolling, move on to crawling, pull ourselves up, cruise, and eventually we learn to walk. 

When bad things happen, we find our inner strength and learn how to walk away a winner.

From there we learn a new way to walk.

We may never master walking on water,

but hopefully at some point we will discover the joy of walking on sunshine.

     No matter how we walk, we are burning calories, feeling energized, and getting from point A to point B on our individual journey's through life until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

V is for Void

     Anyone who owns a cell phone understands well about the voids and black holes of coverage.  Although most people with cell phones who hardly ever travel will rarely be bothered by the nuisance of the void, truck drivers who crisscross the countryside on a daily basis in the quest of getting from A to B on time pass through the void often.   Being the wife of a trucker, I am also affected.

      When I last spoke to my husband to tell him I was calling it a night and heading to bed he warned me that he would be disappearing into the void today.  That means that I will play hell getting a hold of him.  I appreciate when he warns me of this fact because otherwise I would worry if I tried nonstop to reach him and couldn’t.

       Communication between truck drivers and their families has come a long way since I was a little girl.  When I was growing up there were no cell phones.   My Dad entered the void as soon as he pulled out of the driveway.  If there was an emergency and my Mom needed to reach my Dad she had to contact the state police and have him tracked down, pulled over, and informed to call home.  In other words, as soon as he left she was on her own.  Any problems that arose she had to deal with herself.  My Dad would call home every Wednesday and Sunday night like clock work.  As a kid I remembered how hard it was to find things to say to my Dad on these occasions.  He would be gone 2-6 weeks at a time.  When he was home he was always busy working on his truck.  I got used to him being gone and because of that I became extremely close to my mom and shy around my Dad.  As much as I loved my Dad, I don’t really feel I got to know the man he was until he took an early retirement and was around all the time.  That is when I discovered what a cool, funny guy he was.  It was then that I truly began to appreciate him and the sacrifices he made to give his family a good life.

           With the invention of cell phones communication between truck drivers and their families opened up considerably.  My kids don’t see their Dad any more than I seen mine, but they do talk to him daily.  Because of cell phones he is able to still be part of their daily lives.  He hears about their successes and consoles them on their bad days.  Thanks to the camera and video capabilities he was able to see my daughter dance during the parent observation sessions of her class.  He is able to see how my son looks in his new haircut, or even the award he received for integrity almost immediately.  If anything is going to go wrong it usually manages to do it while he is on the road.   I still have to deal with whatever comes to the best of my ability ultimately alone.  The only difference is that with cell phones his input and advice is only a phone call away.  Having him in my ear is better than not having him at all.  It has always given me great satisfaction to know I handled a situation on my own, even if he was giving me his two cents in the process.

          No, cell phones will never replace being home with us, but they do shed light on the void.  He is still present in our daily lives, except for when he enters a void of non coverage and then we only need wait until he reaches the other side to communicate until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

U is for Umbrella

      How many people always have an umbrella on hand in case of a torrential downpour?   If you are off to the store and it looks like rain, do you grab your umbrella?  I never do.  Half the time I don’t even know where I could find an umbrella if I did need one.  When I was growing up my parents always kept an umbrella in the car.  When not in the car, umbrellas could be found in the hall closet.  If we were planning to go to an outdoor event and there was a chance of rain, my mom always brought along the umbrellas.  She was one of those people that had it planned in all matters of weather.

       I am the type of person that tends to wing it.  If it is raining, I will make a mad dash and come out the other side giggling and looking like a drenched rat.  On the off chance that I have had the foresight to grab an umbrella, I have noticed that they didn’t do me a whole lot of good.  Maybe it is just me, but when I use an umbrella I end up just as wet as I would have without.  I get hit with the side ways rain or the wind blows my umbrella inside out rendering it worthless.  I spend more time trying to get the stupid thing up and then down and keep from being blown to Timbuktu than I actually do keeping dry.  

       Unlike my mom, I am completely retarded when it comes to umbrellas and find them more pain in the a$$ than they are worth.  When it comes to my children, the rules change.  I made sure Santa Claus stuffed a nice red umbrella in my daughter’s Christmas sock because she has to walk to her bus stop, stand in an area that offers no shelter, and walk home.  In those circumstances, I would welcome an umbrella too.  I have no problem getting drenched, but have a big problem with my kids getting wet.

       Have you ever noticed it can be literally pi$$ing down when you arrive at a shopping mall or store, but you never see anyone getting out their trusty umbrella to make their way inside?  Most people will put a brave face on it and just make a mad dash for the door.  Still others will put their head down and just plod on through the rain at a slightly quicker pace.  The rest of the population will stay put and wait out the downpour.  You never see a colorful sea of umbrellas making their way to shelter.  People tend to either wait out the storm or make a mad dash.  I think it is because they simply don’t want to be bothered with carrying the stupid thing once they get wherever they are going or they don‘t have an umbrella in the first place.  9 times out of 10 if it is raining, I won’t have an umbrella until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.