Being a trucker, I never really appreciated the amount of work that people whom stay at home, wives specifically. Living without the man of the house to take care of simple things like moving heavy things, or helping bring in the groceries is a total pain. And dealing with the everyday issues of home life wow… I miss the damn truck.  Most of us drivers like to complain about how we want home cooked meals over the road, but I bet not very many of them want to be the ones cooking the damn things every day three times a day. Cleaning the counters and dishes and floors. Its alot of work. Anyone who things people who stay home are sitting on their asses, regardless if they are working or not, should be dragged outside tied to a post and beaten with a stick.

At home, with the kid, most of my days start at 7 am. The kid has to be in school by 8:15 am or he is late, and he has to be there by 7:55 am to eat breakfast at school. If I had more the one kid, or kids in different grades/school I am betting I’d have to be awake even earlier. But thankfully I just have Zaniel. He has to be dressed, face cleaned, his school supplies hunted down, and in his jacket by 7:45 am. I do baths at night to save my sanity. Somewhere in there he gets his ADHD pill, and there will usually be arguing about less talking and more getting dressed.

At five he has a milllion questions, most of which do not make any sense.  Like where Bill is, thats one I am sure the moms have a hard time with. Wheres dad. At five he doesn’t understand teh concept of ‘distance’ or ‘states’.  I tried telling him what state Bill is in that day but then it goes something like this; Wheres Bill? Is that far away? How far away is it? Is that near Texas? and on and on. So now I just tell him Bill is far far away bringing food and toys to stores, its sorta true.

Once he is at school I have seven hours to myself, usually this is spent taking care of the animals and the house work. In a truck, the most house work is wiping things down and reorganize, and maybe a truck wash.  I wish I could drive the house to a house wash, that would be a hell of alot easier. But no, theres mopping, and sweeping, and bagging trash especially in this house where most things are piled in corners because we have no book cases or the like at the moment. This house hasn’t been LIVED in in years.  When you are over the road and home for a few days at most every few months things at home can be ignored, and often are. Things like a backed up sewer line, or a lack of real furniture. But now I have to get all that back together and working, ALONE.

Thats a hard word, alone.  I am not used to that. I don’t like it. This was made harder by the fact not only am I ALONE doing house work I am alone coordinating house repairs. Major ones. Not a leaky pipe no, we have water damaged walls, and a totaled kitchen, and a concrete floor.  My lupus also doesn’t help, limiting me alot. Nor does my ptsd, and my morbid fear of phoning strange people. It doesn’t help Bill is the worlds biggest procrastinator and unless I am there to make him do things they don’t get done. Even things that REALLY are important, like swapping bank routing info for direct depositing so the mortgage payments go through. Or… plugging in a fridge to be sure it works before handing over 300 dollars for it.

I do alot of running around during that time as well, and if the car breaks, then I don’t have the luxury of calling the man of the house to come help me with it. If its a tire I get to change it myself, if its something bigger I have to arrange a tow. When I get groceries I have to lug them in alone. When I make dinner I am the one doing the dishes too. The bathrooms have to be cleaned, trash has to be empty, I have to keep track of three cars, when they need to be fixed whats wrong with them, and all the house stuff all by myself. I call Bill alot for assistance on things like how to fix a radiator house, or why the electrical in the bedroom keeps being wonky but from 1600 miles away there isn’t a whole lot he can do.

But then at night I think is the hardest, with my ptsd and without my normal trained dog, I find myself freaking at the smallest noises and making sure 100x a night the doors are locked. I have the four dobermans, anyone that breaks in this house will be mauled, or licked to death. But that doesn’t stop me from from locking the bedroom door at night and ensuring the window is shut and locked.