The first tangible gift I remember receiving was for the Christmas of 1970. I would have been two at the time and at that point in my life Christmas represented all that was truly magical. At the tender ago of two I don’t recall what I asked Santa Claus for, but I do know that what I received provided years of happy memories from then on.
According to the home movie that documented the event, my stylish mother was perfectly coiffed and dressed in a stylish mini skirt and knee high go-go boots. Let’s face it, she was only 29 in 1970 and from what I can remember and see from the movie…she was pretty cool! My blond hair was swept up in a rumpled ponytail, and I looked as if I had just tumbled out of bed in my white form fitting footed pajamas and raced to the living room to discover all Santa had left.
I excitedly tore the colorful wrapping paper from my many gifts and was thrilled to find not only a Fisher Price house, but also a Fisher Price barn! Many other gifts came before and after…but I kept going back to the fascinating barn and house. I remember when the door opened a loud mooing could be heard and taking great delight in opening and closing it. The doorbell rang on the little house, and the garage door came up! I sat up that little house and barn just as I wanted and took great delight in having the little family visit the animals and tend to them. They would have supper in the little kitchen, and then go to the living room to watch TV. After a while the mommy and the daddy would kiss the kid good night and tuck him into bed. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day that would be recreated over and over with slight variations over the years. Later on in the movie, even my older sister who would have been about 9 looked pretty into my presents too!
The little house and barn were my favorite toys until I discovered Barbie. Until then, I loved to play and pretend. Who would have guessed that my favorite things to play all those years ago would be a precursor to how my own life would turn out? Even today I am still playing house, only with real kids and instead of having farm animals I spend my time taking care and tending my dogs and cats. Years later after my daughter was born, I brought my Fisher Price barn and house down from the attic for her to play with while we visited my Dad‘s house. I loved lying on my stomach on the floor and helping her set everything up just like I had done so many times and so many years ago. My Dad encouraged me to fill my old room with toys for my daughter so she would have her own special place to play when we came to his house. She loved it and still remembers her special toy room at Pa Pa’s house.
Sadly, after my dad died my sister made sure those favorite toys were sold at auction. I know I can’t hold onto everything forever, but I would have loved to have still had those two special toys from one of my first Christmas’s. Thank G0d, she couldn’t take away my memories and sell them. They would have brought a lot more money, because in my opinion…they are priceless. That is all I have until the next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Crocheting has become apassion that I have carried with me all the days of my life. I love yarn, and the fact that a simple ball of the stuff can create something extraordinary with a little effort.
Warm weather draws a person outside…but cool weather finds me wanting to crochet!! Because of this urge, I made a trip to the store as soon as the winds blew colder and picked out some vibrant colors to use to construct an afghan. I was drawn to the purples and lavenders!! I rushed home and dove into my collection of pattern books searching for an afghan that would prove challenging enough to hold my interest and in the end be beautiful to behold. I wanted to try a pattern I had never done before and went with a striped pattern that featured Catherine wheels throughout. I can honestly say there is nothing I love better than crocheting while I watch television or a good movie!! When I first met my husband he was floored that I could crochet, as he had never met anyone under 80 that knew how. He must have lived a sheltered life because I taught myself to crochet when I was about 10.
This last summer I taught my daughter how to crochet and she proudly won a blue ribbon at the local 4H fair for her creation. It didn’t take long for the crochet bug to bite her!! Before I had barely finished my first row she was begging for me to go buy her a ball of yarn so she could crochet too. Like me, she loves the variegated patterns and chose one peppered with white, purple, and pale blue. I set her to work making a Granny Square. I suggested she continue until she used up the yarn, and then get another ball of a different pattern or color to make a new square. Eventually, she could crochet her squares together and have a nice sized blanket for her bed. A bonus is that she could eventually enter her afghan into the fair if she wanted.
It has become a tradition in my family to crochet. My mom did it, then I taught myself, and then I taught my daughter. A relaxing and rewarding hobby, when all is said and done you have a heirloom that will be treasured always. It has become the not so secret passion that I will carry with me all the days of my life. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
If today was my last day, and I knew the next meal I ate would be my last, I would have to go out with a bang and stuff myself to the gills!! To get the party started, I would begin my last meal sipping a tantalizing Sex on the Beach. For an appetizer, there would be bruschetta bread and a blooming onion blossom with the spicy sauce. I couldn’t resist a few pieces of cheese and a few deviled eggs.
Next I would hit a salad bar the size of an elephants a$$ and load my plate with all my favorite salad goodies. Fresh iceberg lettuce topped with tomatoes, onions, peas, shredded cheese, ham, bacon bits, croutons, and smothered with French dressing.
For the main course, I would have to have a thick juicy steak slathered with onions and mushrooms, a loaded baked potato, a side of brussel sprouts, and a side of grilled shrimp. There would also be a big pile of French dressing on the side to dip my steak in.
I rarely eat dessert, but given this is my last meal, I would have to indulge in a large ice cream sundae smothered with strawberries, nuts, and topped with whipped cream and a cherry. When everything had been eaten, the piece ala resistance would be presented…someone else to pay the bill!! Then with a belch loud enough to rattle the rafters I would bid the world adieu and promptly blow up like George Pig from my favorite childhood story, never to be seen or heard from again. In the end, you just got to love food!!! Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Although I have had several things in my life that sent me over the moon, the challenge is to narrow it down to the one shining moment that stands above all the rest. With that said, the happiest moment of my life was when I married my best friend, my husband.
If I hadn’t married my husband and best friend, other equally happy moments like the birth of our children or moving into our house would have never occurred. At this point in my life, all good things followed from that one shining moment. Love is an amazing thing and can make or break the happiness level in your life. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
All during school I was constantly infatuated with someone. In my junior and senior year of high school my affections focused on one particular boy. I am ashamed to admit I chased him around school with big love sick puppy dog eyes with my tongue hanging out and drooling. Looking back, I was so pathetic!!
He was the stereotypical jock. He was quarterback of the football team, played basketball, and baseball. I didn’t have any classes with him that I can recall but that didn’t stop me from drooling over him and pursuing him with a vengeance. At the time I thought he was the next best thing to sliced bread. Being so athletic, he was muscular, tall, dark and handsome. All my school girl fantasies revolved around him. The only real problem with him that ever came to light was that he was head over heels in love with someone else and took great delight in telling me about it. Glutton for punishment that I was, I would call him up on the phone and listen to him go on and on about HER. UGH!!
Stupid me. I joined the pep club so I could be his locker pal. What that meant was that before every game I would decorate his locker. Since I was so artistic, I had no problem making each weeks locker decoration a virtual masterpiece. I even baked him brownies more than once. I bought season tickets for football, basketball, and baseball and went to every single game to cheer him on. It felt like everyone there knew I was there for him, which in hindsight made it even more embarrassing.
There were definite highlights to my pursuit. In senior year, the football team beat a powerhouse of a rival. The student body jumped the field in their exuberance to congratulate the team and celebrate. I made a beeline for him and tackled him. Yes I admit it! I took my opportunity, ran with it, and jumped his bones rolling around in the mud!! It gave me the perfect excuse, and I took it!! All these years later, I still remember how fun that was.
By my senior year my affection began to wane due to his constant proclamations of love for this other girl. He never asked me out, never asked me to the winter formal, or the prom. He took her. Go figure. I stayed home. By graduation, I had given up the ghost realizing that it had been a worthy pursuit…but it was over.
The following fall I was home from college and went to a basketball game. To my shock he came up to me and embraced me. I will never forget it. He was all over me like a bad rash. As we sat on the bleachers he told me how he had went to see that girl and found her with someone else. He was devastated and was looking to me for comfort. I could have took this opportunity and ran with it. All those years of rejection welled up inside me at that moment and I blew him off and was happy to do so. I have to admit that I took complete pleasure in turning the tables on him and being a complete bitch.
Although I have always felt a little guilty for the way I treated him on that night, the other part of me feels vindicated and was more than happy to move on. His shiny armor had fallen and revealed the a$$ he had always been in glaring light. It made me wish I hadn’t wasted all of high school pining for someone who didn’t give a tinker’s damn if I lived or died. Sure, he was gorgeous…but in the end he really wasn’t very nice at all.
He broke my heart with his rejection and in hindsight all these years later I can’t imagine what I seen in him! If it hadn't hurt so bad at the time, it wouldn’t be called a crush would it?? Thank heavens my husband came along and swept me off my feet so I could finally know what it felt like to be loved and cherished. It is good to know that there is a soul mate for everyone and you probably won't find him the first place you look. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a truckers wife.
What is the moment that you leave childhood and enter adulthood?? Popular opinion would pin that moment at the graduation of high school at the tender age of 18. Not only are you no longer considered a minor by the laws of the land, but from the moment you throw that cap into the air at graduation you embark on the first day to the rest of your life. But, have you truly entered adulthood at that point?? You can buy cigarettes without any headaches if you have a mind to. You can move out on your own, get married, vote, and enlist into the military. Still, in my mind you are still technically in your teens and still have limitations.
For example, until you are 21, you can not purchase alcohol or go get soused at a bar. If you want to drive a big rig like my husband does, you have to be 18 to even apply for a CDL license. If you want to haul stuff that could blow up you or someone else on impact, then you have to be 21. By the age of 21, most people who went onto college after high school are ready to embark on the rest of their life and the daunting task of paying back any loans for that education. If you marched off to college, have you really embarked on adulthood yet?? Maybe, maybe not. At that point, you may still be going home to your parents house on breaks. You certainly haven’t got a real 40 hour a week job yet because it took all of your time just to handle school. 21 is considered legal age limit for just about everything else.
For myself personally, I can honestly say that true “adulthood” to the point where…”you are on your own” didn’t occur until I married my husband and moved out of my parents house once and for all. That is the reality when the weight of never ending bills and responsibility took over. That is when the $hit hit the fan for me.
Another growing up wake up call was when I had my first baby. If parenthood wasn’t a mind boggling wake up call that it was time to grow up, mature, and handle life, I don’t know what was. That was when the ability to run around and party, go to movies, concerts, and drop everything to rush to Cedar Point came to a screeching halt. At that point, it was time to wake up, smell the coffee, and settle down if I hadn’t already because I had a sweet helpless being depending on me to handle it. True I was older than most at 32 when my first precious bundle was born, but by then I could really appreciate her. If I had her before that, I may not have been as patient. Besides from about that time on, money has been in short supply.
Some folks are forced to grow up in a big hurry when they decide to get busy and end up pregnant. Their bodies may be mature enough for such a life altering occurrence, but mentally they may be a long way off. For myself personally, I am glad I waited until I had been married 3 years before my first baby arrived. True, some folks my age didn’t wait and are grandparents today. Mind boggling to be sure. I am thankful I am not one of them.
So to answer when is the exact moment that you leave your childhood behind, it is as individual of an answer as each human being is different. Sometimes due to our choices and other circumstances, $hit happens, and life takes over. Then you just have to roll with it. Society places the adulthood bar at 21, and upon reflection I would say that on average…that is about right. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
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 withendometriosisthat 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.
