The Hardest Job for Me

NaBloPoMo asks today:

“What do you think would be the hardest job for you to do?”

      I didn’t even have to think about this one!!  I could never ever do what my husband does, never in a million years!  He is an over the road truck driver who hauls flat bed loads.  Although I would love to see the countryside like he gets to I would absolutely HATE not being home for a month.  I would miss my family entirely too much.

        Another factor that would make me a bad candidate for truck driving is that I am completely hopeless at backing up a vehicle.  I can not back a small vehicle to save my life let alone an eighteen wheeler.  It freaks me out. I am the person that will park a mile away from where I am going so that I can pull through to a space that I can easily pull out of.  When I was learning how to drive my dad suggested I practice parallel parking in the driveway.  So I got in my car and prepared to back into the space that was between his Ranchero and my mom’s Mercury Marquis.  I backed up and took out the side of my dad’s Ranchero!  It was one of those “Oh $hit” moments I will never forget!  My dad came running out of the house waving his arms yelling for me to stop!  After that he didn’t think I needed to “practice” any more and eventually insisted that I park in the yard where I could easily turn around far away from his and my mom’s vehicles.  Eventually he had a turn around asphalted in the front yard of his house specifically for my benefit.  When I finally went to take the driving test for my license the driver’s examiner told me specifically what to do to guide my car and parallel park.  Because of this, I passed the test.  He must have sensed that I would never handle it on my own!

        Besides the fact that I don’t do reverse well, I realize there is a lot of hard work involved in hauling flatbed.  My husband has to climb up on loads taller than his truck and balance his a$$ on the wind in all kinds of weather while he tarps.  I could never do that!  I would be terrified I would fall.  While I used to climb around on the heavy machinery my dad hauled when I was a kid, that was a whole different ballgame compared to the steel or whatever that is stacked a mile high on his trailer.  Not only does he have to climb great heights and balance, he has to be able to hurl heavy tarps over the top of the load to the other side so he can tie them down.  I can just see me completely exhausting myself and never accomplishing that feat or spending the whole time gazing in horror at what I am expected to do and thinking to myself “You have got be $hitting me!”

        The last little tidbit which would rock my world if I was an over the road driver would be the paralyzing fear of getting lost and of being surrounded by traffic on every side.  I find that very claustrophobic.  I can do it, but I drive through big cities with a death grip on the wheel literally $hitting bricks alternating between praying and cussing.  While being the wife of a truck driver can be a lonely life, being a truck driver gone all the time would be much worse.  Just you and the road as the time passes and minutes turn into hours, days, and weeks.  It is a lonely life and not for everyone.  I would be so home sick!  While there are times when I would love to have a job and travel all over creation like my husband, I am much better off at home and out of trouble until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

 

Monsters Under the Bed

      When I was little, there were always monsters under the bed.  I could hear them; at least I thought I could.  I could hear them moving about, and if I listened close enough I could hear them breathing.  As soon as the light went out, something began rummaging around beneath.


        I wasn’t afraid of the dark.  I was afraid of the sounds, whether imagined or otherwise.  The terror was real.  I was sure each time the light went out, something was going to get me, eat me alive, and spit me out.  I had no idea what was under the bed, but I had little doubt something lurked there.

        During the day, I often would fearfully look under the bed and find absolutely nothing to be frightened of.  I could see a dust bunny or two, stray cards from a game, a forgotten book, and perhaps some dirty socks.  I never saw anything that would or could make those G0d awful sounds whenever night came and only the moonlight lit my room.

         Having to pee in the night was the worst.  I would wake up having to go so bad and knowing if I did, that monster might just get me before I made it to the toilet.  The soft orange glow of the night light in the corner did little to dispel my fears.  I didn’t have a lamp beside the bed in those days.  The only way I could catch the monster in the act was to leap out of the bed, race for the switch plate on the wall near my bedroom door and flip the switch instantly illuminating the room with light.  The only problem with that idea was that if I wasn’t quick enough the monster might reach its big hairy arms out from the dark recesses from underneath my bed and grab my ankles.  If it did, I would be lost.  Not only that, I would soak my panties in the bargain.   I could feel my heart race as I tentatively placed a foot to the floor.   The air in the room was cooler as it hit my bare leg than it had been under my toasty warm covers.  I could have sworn I felt something swish past my leg and dart under the bed and I hiked my foot back under the covers.  

          “Lord, please help me get to the toilet!!  I have to go!  I am afraid!!”  I prayed to myself.  I really had to go now.  I surely didn’t want to wake the whole house and have everyone know what a scaredy cat I was.  I had to get a hold of myself.  With determination I dropped both feet to the floor and raced hell bent for election to the light switch near the door, flipping on the light as I slammed into the wall.  The room was instantly illuminated, and except for me completely empty.  I breathed a shaky sigh of relief and raced for the bathroom to relieve myself once and for all.

          The rest of the house was dark, but the bathroom was lit by the soft glow of the night light.  I settled on the potty and steeled my resolve.  “There is no such thing as monsters!!  There are no such things as monsters!!”  I chanted trying to convince myself.  I washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and drank a small drink of water.  I couldn’t prolong the inevitable any longer.  

       I silently went back down the hall to my room.  I counted to three, switched off the light, and made a mad dash for my bed.  I jumped in the bed, threw the covers over my head, and laid back down willing myself back to sleep.  I had escaped the monster this time.  I said the time honored prayer I uttered every night before I slept “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and please keep me safe from whatever is under my bed!!”   Relieved, I settled deep into my covers drifted off to sleep once more.

     To a little kid like I was in those days monsters under the bed are very real.  When I became a mother I read somewhere that being scared of the dark or of monsters under the bed was a rite of passage for childhood.  Most everyone goes through it.  At that tender age, the imagination is a wild and untamed beast.  As I aged, I learned to tame my imagination and keep it at bay.  Monsters no longer join the dust bunnies and stray socks that live under my bed.  I am no longer afraid until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

The Bogey Man in the Mirror

    
       When I was growing up my mom must have loved mirrors or at least thought they were a necessary accessory to make a house a home.  As I think about it, I believe she had a mirror or reflective surface in every room of the house.  Mirrors can be amazing things, not only do they make a small room appear larger but they also show a person’s physical flaws without any forgiveness.  They also can hide sinister beings that creep out on you in the night.

       When I was growing up I had a full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.  As I look back on it, that was an awful stupid place to put a mirror as my door was always open.  I rarely shut that door and hardly ever used the mirror on it.  I always applied my makeup in the bathroom while gazing in the mirror over the sink.  If I wanted to check out my appearance, I went out to the living room where another large antique mirror hung.  Most of the time I even got dressed in the bathroom.

         I have worn glasses since the 4th grade.  Without my glasses my world is a blurry haze.  Because of that fact, even if I have to pee in the night I always grab my glasses for the trip.  For some reason, I have always had to see to pee.  Even though I am a born klutz, I also have the habit of never turning on lights for these nocturnal journeys to the toilet.  I have never been able to stumble to the bathroom without running into a wall as I went.  Regardless, then and now, there has always been a night light in the bathroom to light my way. 

      One night I woke with the need to pee, grabbed my glasses and took off in the dark for the toilet.  As I approached the hallway, I saw someone standing there in the darkness.  My heart raced.  The person was coming toward me.  I was half asleep, but my terror of discovering someone in the house that shouldn’t be scared the living be Je$u$ out of me.  I rushed back to my bed screaming all the way, grabbed the covers up to my nose, and turned the lamp beside the bed on to discover no one was there.  My door was shut and I found my reflection staring back at me looking just as terrified as I felt.  In a flash my door flew open and my mom was staring at me with a look of alarm on her face.  “Are you all right?”  All I could manage as I trembled was that I had to pee.  “Well get up and go to the BATHROOM before you pi$$ the bed!!”  My mom shook her head, said good night,  and went back to bed giving me one of those "wondering why" looks which had the effect of making me feel like a complete a$$.  A real a$$ considering I was a teenager at the time and old enough to not be afraid of things that go bump in the night.

         Like Tigger in “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh”, I discovered my bogey man was only a reflection of myself.  Things in the mirror are not always as they appear until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
       

Facing Fears

     When I was about 31, I got into my head that what I wanted was to have a baby.  My husband and I had been married 3 years and my biological clock was banging in my head.  I had a lot of problems before that with endometriosis  that necessitated countless laser surgeries equaling loads of scar tissue, and a great deal of pain.  Because of that, getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as I had imagined it would be.

      I took my temperature, took drugs to make me ovulate, and drugs to make me stop.  I was all out of whack.    Finally after months of trying, I hit the jackpot.  I was pregnant, and my husband and I were over the moon with happiness.    From the moment I became pregnant,  I was constantly sick with nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.  If a stiff breeze blew on me I would toss my cookies.  I was completely miserable but at least I had a good reason.  I was going to have a baby, and I couldn’t wait.

      One day I heard the heart beat for the first time.  Then came the unmistakable butterfly movements and the growing belly.  When I was just past 5 months, I began to spot.  My doctor immediately put me on bed rest and scheduled an ultrasound.  I was so excited because I was going to see my baby for the first time, and if I was lucky discover its gender.  I eagerly drank what seemed like gallons of water to prepare for the ultrasound and felt like I would explode if they so much as touched me.

  

      I remember laying down on the table, feeling the gel they spread on my belly, and peering at the monitor searching for my baby.  The technician was silent as she focused on the monitor.  After a while, she patted my hand and told me she would be right back.  I laid there oblivious.  She came back carrying a telephone and told me my doctor would like to speak to me.  Seemed a little odd at the time, but I had never had a baby before, or an ultrasound…so I didn’t realize this was a very bad sign.  He cut right to the chase and broke my heart with the unsuspected news that my baby was dead.  The sobs that spilled from me shook my whole body as the technician tried her best to comfort me.  The doctor told me that the only way I would ever have the chance at a healthy baby was to remove this one as soon as possible.  I agreed to the surgery to be scheduled in a couple days and went home devastated.

          With the loss of my baby, I lost the desire to become pregnant. I quit taking the pills to make me ovulate and taking my temperature.  I went on with life trying to forget, knowing I never would.   Six months later, I was pregnant again.  This time, I refused to get my hopes up and  to believe that history wouldn‘t repeat itself.  Even after I became noticeably pregnant and felt the baby kick often, I still couldn’t believe that this baby would survive through my gestational diabetes and high blood pressure.  I was terrified it would die like the first.

        Because of all the scar tissue, I was scheduled for a cesarean section.  Right up to seconds before I was wheeled to the operating room, all I wanted was to have whatever it was that was making me desperately sick out of me.  I wanted the pregnancy over with.  I was tired.  I was terrified, and certain that even though this baby appeared normal and fine that at the last minute it would die.  I am 5 foot tall and at that moment, I resembled the blueberry girl in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”.  You could have placed me on my side and rolled me around.  I desperately wanted to be sent to the juicing room and be squeezed till I was thin again. HA!  You would have thought all that peeing would have done the trick.

       I had a daughter!  She was beautiful, and better yet…she was alive and healthy.  The nurse brought my newborn over to me.  She was screaming at the top of her lungs until I spoke to her.  She immediately stopped and looked at me, and I dissolved into tears of amazement and happiness.   I remember thinking at that moment that I was witnessing what life is truly all about.


       With my daughter’s birth, I conquered and overcame my fears of being pregnant and coming out with a broken heart.    Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.