I bought a truck. I’ve never purchased a vehicle before. My last vehicle, the ‘Balt whom I’ve mentioned numerous times, was a hand-me-down from my husband. He gave her to me when bought his car.
A week ago today, I saw a truck for sale at a local lot. It was nice, older but a decent price with good features. However, no one wanted to provide a loan for it because of the mileage.
So they “found” another truck for me.
You see, I’ve always wanted a truck. The Balt was nice but she was small and light and had an aversion to staying on the road and not on the surface of standing water when it had been raining. She also had a decent amount of miles.
I also grew up in pickups driven by my dad. It’s nostalgia for me. And the thought that I could haul literally anything I wanted when I wanted to.
So I bought a 2012 Dodge Ram Big Horn. I still have no idea the significance of the Big Horn part, and there’s still some features I haven’t figured out yet. But I love driving her (her name is Olive Oil) and her color is “sagebrush”. For once I’m driving a vehicle that if something happens I’m not the one who will get hurt it’ll be the other guy.
I would never cause an accident intentionally. I’m a cautious driver. Just thought that needed saying.
Anywho, the day after I bought her, the “check fuel cap” warning came on. So I checked it. Not loose. Still attached. Light still on.
Two days later the check engine light came on. The next day I took her to a local mechanic and he plugged her in. It said it was the fuel cap. He said more than likely it’s a fuel leak. If it’s a particular line, it would require dropping the tank. That alone is $100 labor.
I haven’t even made the first payment.
And I gave up the ‘Balt for $250. so if something bad happens to Olive, I’m in a pickle.
See what I did there. I have to joke it’s my coping mechanism.
I’m scared do death that I’ve made a horrible mistake, an impulse buy I will soon regret. She’s a big truck and she’s gonna be expensive to fix.
My husband had this fear, that it was going to be expensive. But shout out to him for letting me make my own decisions without influencing them.
I am willing to haul things for truck repair funds. And I know she has the power to, I dunno, pull a tree out with a chain?
Thanks for Reading,
When I picked my kid up from school she told the teacher in the line “that’s my mommy’s née big beautiful truck!”
In 2007 I graduated from college with a bachelors degree in Elementary Education. There has only ever been two things I dreamed of being: a teacher and a writer.
I haven’t successfully written fiction, and by successfully I mean finished or even gotten halfway through a piece, in a very long time. I’ve done some very short fiction, but the last “chapter based” writing I did was a Handy Manny story (not fan fiction, I just had a small child), and that’s a whole other blog post.
After I graduated college, I decided it was a good idea to take a break (famous last words) and get settled into adulthood. Then I got married. I didn’t want my new spouse to have to pay my fast approaching student loan payment. The grace period was about to end and I didn’t want him to have that burden.
I’ve now been in retail for twelve years (in five days). In that time I was a substitute teacher for a short time while working retail. I also did not have my drivers license, so getting me to and from Sub gigs and my mail source of employment were my spouse and in laws.
At one point I became so exhausted that I couldn’t physically do it anymore. I’d go eight hours without eating sometimes. Debilitating social anxiety and fear of failure can be considered the main reasons why I’m still in retail.
Oh and at one point in all this I put in my application for teaching positions. I got an interview at the school closest to me. I BOMBED. It had been so long since I’d graduated and been in a classroom that I had NO IDEA what they were asking me. I knew I didn’t get it before I left the building. My child now goes to that school.
I took that very hard at the time and told myself I was going to give up. But had I really tried? I hadn’t done a single thing to do with education since I graduated, and the substitute work didn’t come until a few years later. How did I expect an interview to go well? Duh goober.
It has now been more time between the substituting and now than has been between the interview and being a sub. And I still want so desperately to be a teacher that I dream about it.
I’ve had dreams about being in a classroom before. But Mia think recurring dreams where someone found out that I didn’t pass some elementary grade and they won’t let me be a teacher until I go through school over again. And NOT EVEN COLLEGE. I have to go through elementary or high school again! *facepalm*
I told myself in October of last year that I wouldn’t still be in retail a year later. I think I even wrote a blog post about it. And now there’s only 206 days left before that day in October. And I’m gonna be super bummed if I don’t get the heck out of dodge.
Don’t get me wrong. Things at my current employer have improved. I’m much happier and much less stressed but I’m still struggling some with not feeling good enough or part of the click. But once in a while I do feel like I’m making some difference.
Lately I don’t really remember much of my dreams. They really have to hit me a certain way for them to be remembered. But with this one, no recurring dream, nothing I’ve ever had before, it just hit me the right (or wrong) way. It reminded me that I want to teach badly, I want more. But am I good enough? Will I ever get there?
Thanks for reading
In the dream I was wearing a dress that looked like my face mask that has a dinosaur puking a rainbow and like said mask it kept slipping down so I had to keep covering my chest with my iPad.
My Daughter Had a Dental Appointment Today
This was not just your typical run of the mill every six months check up.
About six months ago, I came home from work, and the first thing my child said to me was, “mommy I fell but I’m not crying anymore!” Well that’s great honey.*looks at daddy* what the hell?
Baby daddy/spouse goes on to explain that Child was being her usual self and jumping on her little indoor trampoline (best worst purchase ever) and was told to be careful. Minutes later she fell. It’s been some time so I can’t remember the details but she bruised her chin but otherwise did not complain.
A few days later I was checking her teeth. I’m a paranoid momma and I wanted to a: make sure she didn’t hurt them and b: she was still a member of the no cavity club.
When I looked at her teeth, the first thing I noticed were her two bottom front teeth. They each had a dark line! I thought, “dear lort she’s cracked her two front teeth!”
But upon closer inspection, it turned out to be, I believe, markings left by her trampoline bar, when she fell. She said they didn’t hurt and were fine. So I sighed, “this child gonna kill me.” And I continued inspections.
That’s when we came to the root of the problem (ha). I first thought it was a cavity, as it was dark, and encompassed a large portion of her tooth. But, panic setting in, I used one of my flossers and cleaned it out. She’d eaten a brownie before and that was our fake cavity. The problem was: her tooth, a back tooth, didn’t look quite right.
My first thought was, oh no, my baby has tooth decay.
Good Dental Hygiene Wasn’t a Priority
Growing up in a lower income family? We didn’t have regular dental care. We couldn’t afford for a long time the “extra” insurance that was dental and vision, not until much later.
I remember when we got most of our dental work, was when dad was out of work and we were “on true draw”. Mom utilized that government insurance and took us all to get checked. Lort knew when we’d lose it, or when dad would have a a job, so, get while the getting is good.
It also wasn’t a priority to keep our teeth clean. At a certain age it becomes “if you wanna keep ‘em, you gotta clean ‘em”. I don’t recall a lot of being made to go brush. So as an adult I really want to instill the importance of good dental hygiene in my child.
The Child Grinds
Have you ever met a six year old who grinds their teeth?
Welp. Guess what Dr Dentist notices EVERY TIME?! Yup. Girl grinds her teeth. It’s not as often as it used to be. But it still happens.
So when we showed up for an out of regular schedule visit, I don’t expect him to take one look and say, “oh yeah, it’s where she grinds, she chipped it.”
Dude says what now?
Like, when? Where? Where did it go? Did she swallow it? Why? Huh? Of course my child…
These I didn’t ask. But I did ask, is there any way to stop the grinding? Nope. If she keeps it up into her adult teeth, she’ll need a mouth guard for the night.
The only option was to fix it, until broken tooth leaves and her permanent tooth comes in. With a cap.
Now, girl normally won’t even let them take an X-ray. I knew capping would be a battle.
Today was (supposed to be) the capping. She wasn’t having it from the X-ray to the green table. I admire and praise the dentist and his assistant for attempting but my girl was just a struggle. And it was a traumatizing experience. For both of us! They got far enough to put the material on, but she started to panic.
She has been scheduled for a sedation assisted procedure.
This one time when she wasn’t even walking, she swallowed a dime. She had to be put to sleep and scoped. That was five years ago.
Needless to say, momma is stressed from today and stressed just thinking about what’s to come! Luckily it’s over a month away so I can mentally prepare.
Here’s hoping it all goes smooth.
Thanks for Reading!
She told the assistant that the tooth cleaning stuff tasted like birthday cake and smelled like pickles. What time she wasn’t freaking out, she was being adorable.
In my last post I talked about a journey to… not dying. And the reasons why I’m not ready to shuffle off this mortal coil. There was a storm and flooding and I fear death and big rivers. Blah blah blah.
The point is that post was all about me doing things to keep myself alive and to make my life better. Though I know that Death waits for no man (or woman in this case), there are things in my life that I can fix or work on, that may or may not cause or contribute to my untimely demise (or depression).
The Reason to Live
My daughter. That’s it. That’s my only reason. It’s been settled in my heart and my head (both of which will have starring roles in the “problems” section) that if something were to happen to her, my life would lose all meaning and I wouldn’t need to be around anymore. But that’s a tale for another time.
Anyway, she is six, sleeps in the bed with me, is really great for your ego (typical “my kid” lines are “mommy I just love your hair” or “I just love your glasses” she’s even said “daddy I love your bald head.”). She’s amazing and young and learning and doesn’t need to lose me just yet.
And I don’t want to lose the joy I have being with her. So she is my reason. For everything.
The Physical Problems
I’ve briefly mentioned them in the last post, and I’ll go into slightly more detail.
- Heart: I’ve had heart problems, seen by a doctor but as yet unnamed, for several years now. Three? Four? And I live in constant fear that I’ll have a heart attack and die. Post soon to come about heart attacks in women. Even now I have some mild chest pains. But is that my heart or muscle pain from raising my arms over my head instead of climbing a ladder? Dunno.
- Head: I’ve had some dizziness and headaches pretty frequently lately and over the course of a few years. My mom, who passed away almost three years ago now, had multiple aneurysms. If she were here now she’d say: “yeah but they didn’t kill me” and also: “GO TO THE DOCTOR.” The very thing I would tell her. I know just because she had it doesn’t mean I will, but they can be hereditary. And also I’m paranoid.
- Weight: you know what’s super annoying? When you call yourself “fat” and someone says, “oh, no you’re not”. But then you look at yourself then back at them, and go, “I have a number for my ophthalmologist” (had to Google that). I am fat, though. I am what modern science would call “morbidly obese”. I’m ok with it, I’ve been in this body for a while I’ve come to terms. I don’t want to be. But between work, parenthood and exhaustion I have no time to, well, anything.
- Feet: while not an immediate “gonna kill me now” thing, I have very bad feet. Bad enough that I’ve wanted to find a secret corner at work and cry. They hurt terribly and I’m in a job where I’m on my feet for 6 to 8+ hours a day. Sometimes I climb stairs, frequently I climb ladders (lately I reach, explaining possible muscle pain). My feet are my number one source of pain, and I believe one of the reasons I don’t get much done.
- Stomach: here’s another “my mom had it”. I have stomach issues. I’ve never been diagnosed with anything specific. My mom, over six years ago, so three before she passed, had to have a large portion of her bowel remove due to a blockage. She ended up on ventilator because she’d had some breathing issues during the surgery and didn’t come off for a very long time. I started having bowel issues several years ago. They’ve gotten worse over the years and I fear the outcome. She ended up with an ostomy (a whole in her side where poop could come out). She was strong and learned quickly (with the glorious and amazing help of my sister). But she also didn’t work in the public. I struggle enough with self confidence, I don’t think I could handle the transition to pooping in a bag. Not that I judge, she was an expert at her own changing process.
The Fixer Quicker Upper
Looking at that wordy list of issues, I can see the number one way to improve my problems and live longer (unless Death decides its accidental) is a lifestyle change. Healthy habits could lead to weight loss: less weight on my feet would improve them. No caffeine had been “suggested” (forbidden) for my heart issues. But man I love me a Pepsi.
Eating for better bowel health: self explanatory.
Clearly a lifestyle change, including healthier eating would improve several of my physical problems. My first step (even if it hurts) is a doctor appointment. I’m due some blood work anyway, and only a doc can check certain things.
But wait! There’s more…
However, it’s after 2am, my body isn’t physically capable of anything last 2:30, this post is already a mile long, and my kid is restless. I’ll be back for the rest of it later!
Thanks for reading.
Her favorite word is poop. She’s been known to say, “I love you poopy too.”
I have a complicated relationship with religion. I always have. I’ve said this here before, I’m sure. My parents were never religious, although my mom had her “deep thought” moments. If we went to church as children it was an infrequent occurrence, and I don’t remember my parents being there. So religion was not something part of our upbringing, nor was it something outwardly encouraged.
I grew to question more than believe. There were a lot of things in my life that led me to this, mostly inconsequential to anyone but myself. I question more and more as I get older.
I also don’t hate, judge, or question others in their beliefs. In fact I’m a little bit jealous of their faithfulness and dedication. Unless you’re the faithful for appearance’s sake, but not in your heart.
But I can without a doubt admit that there have been a handful of times I have prayed to God or thrown a thought or hope into the universe and even (lard people don’t come for me) prayed to my mom.
Here in good old temperamental Kentucky (the earth lately tbh) it’s been raining cats and dogs and cows and ducks for days now, resulting in dangerous flash flooding and water in the roads.
I drive a little old (literally old) 2007 Chevy Cobalt. Me and that old girl have been through some schtuff, so I ain’t trying to throw hate. But she be light and if you’re not careful and you hit a centimeter of water in the road the wrong way she will fly off into outer space.
Tonight on the way home from work, the pouring rain reduced visibility to darn near nil, and there was a conservative estimate of an inch or so of water in the road a lot of the way (I might have caused a tidal wave to hit Japan in some places). Needless to say, I was SKURT. It didn’t help that my ARCH NEMISIS THE BIG SANDY RIVER was to my right for 75% of my drive (that’s another blog post).
The point I’m so wordily trying to make here is that I may or may not have verbally dictated a request for leniency in the matter of life or death unto an entity that may or may not be God and/or my mom.
The basis of said request entailed my desire to live for the love of my life: my daughter. Also included was a not-promise-but-an-acknowledgment of my own responsibility in keeping myself alive. I’ve made promises of “I’ll be a better person” or “I’ll pray more” or “I’ll dance naked under the pale moonlight” before and I’m no good at keeping promises. Or dancing. Or nudity. Gross.
But on that long, slow, mentally taxing drive home I kept telling myself and who/whatever was listening that I just wanted to see her face. I mean my husband is cool and all but he knows she’s number one. “Please let me see her face. I need to be alive for her” was my goal.
Now, I know normal people wouldn’t have been afraid for their lives, but I’m not normal, clearly. I also have anxieties and fears that are irrational and I accept them and we’ve bonded. Not really they just won’t leave me alone.
“As I’m writing this it’s still pouring rain AND THERE ARE WEIRD SOUNDS OUTSIDE so, anxiety, clearly here to stay.”Me, suffering silently 2020-?
As I was saying, I have irrational fears, not excluding the fear of dying in some way related to my car. I said we’ve been through a lot and there’s still more to come.
So I drive home, slowly, and tightly gripping the steering wheel, wanting nothing more to make it home alive to my sweet child. I cannot help but “tell” myself and this mystery audience that I suppose only my heart knows is there, “if you help me make it home safely, I will try to keep my end of the bargain, and continue to live.”
That doesn’t mean I wanted to die, nay. I fear death, heavily. I just wasn’t trying really hard to not die.
I Did Live
Unless I’m writing this in limbo, I clearly made it home to my daughter, whose first words upon seeing me were, “did you bring me something.” I did baby. I did.
When I pulled into the driveway and put the Old ‘Balt (that’s a thing I call my car sometimes) in park. I took a deep breath as I waited for the rain to lighten up before I got out. It didn’t.
By now, hours later, the rain has indeed lightened up, I can barely hear it now, and my tiredness is getting to me. I’ve not stayed up this late in a very long time. But I need to get this all off my chest before I go to sleep. I need to document what happened today, so there’s a least some written record of it.
I WILL Live. Period
I won’t be afraid of my heart exploding, or a heart attack, because I will try in earnest to stop drinking caffeine, my only drug of choice. And I will be able to climb stairs without feeling like death (except for that fear or stairs-you guessed it, another post). I will lose weight, even if I don’t want the flappy skin side affect.
And I will be happier, because I will either find a better job or get back into teaching.
Oh and I will also try to document my “journey” right here. So, y’all get to deal with my bonkers self ALL. OVER. AGAIN. Maybe WEEKLY even!
Thanks for reading!
My kid asked me to tell her about her brain and heart before going to sleep tonight. And she said something about “the little thing in my brain and what it does.” Has she been chipped and is self-aware?
In 2007 I graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in elementary education. Besides being a writer (which is either hilarious or depressing at this point) it’s the only career I could ever see myself in.
I love education. I have never held a teaching position.
I got married almost a year later and ended up getting a job at my current employer. I told myself, “Six months. I’ll be here six months and I’ll get a teaching job.”
But I got comfortable (which is either hilarious or depressing at this point). I’ve been with <REDACTED> for eleven years, six months, and sixteen days (whose counting, amirite? FACEPALM).
In my extended tenure at <REDACTED> I’ve been a victim of “Structural Changes” two and a half times (the half is complicated). Now it’s three and a half. I’m losing my position once again. I’m coming to terms with the loss. Slowly. But not the reasons. Maybe not the reason why I’m not good enough for a promotion, either.
But the benefit to it is that I do get something called “pay protection” for one year. Which means I get to continue to be paid for the position I lost instead of the one I’ve been chosen (forced) to do. After one year, if I haven’t been promoted to a position with comparable or better pay, I will lose my pay to a more “appropriate” rate suited to my position.
A Year for What, Exactly?
Remember that education stuff I mentioned?
Well, it’s been 12 years since I graduated. My statement of eligibility (like a learner’s permit for teaching in my state) expired after five years. Poor fella died of starvation. In order to get that renewed I have to take two tests or start on my Master’s Degree.
The tests are cheaper. At least for ya girl.
So I’m giving myself one year to take and pass these tests. I’ve been back and forth on this process for nearly a decade. I tell myself, “I’m gonna do it this time, I’ll get them done.” But I falter. I’ve not even come close to taking them yet!
But What Happens If I Fail?
If I don’t make it to take and pass the tests in a year, I deserve my lot in life and I’m as worthless as I’ve been made to feel by more than one person at <REDACTED>.
The simple fact is that I’ve been in this field for so long that quitting and starting all over would be absolutely bonkers. I have no other bankable skills. So I’m stuck at <REDACTED>.
Problem number Dos is that the field of education has changed so much in the decade plus that I’ve been away that I basically need an entire new degree to catch up. I may, in fact, be bonkers.
I would love a mentor of some type in my state, with my knowledge of my state’s educational policies and such, to guide me on what I need to learn, or relearn. I can study and pass a test or two (hopefully). But can I hold my own in a classroom.
One of the many steps I should take this year is renewing my substitute certification. I think it only costs $15. Last I check (been a WHILE). I could sub and learn a little. And make some connections.
I’m literally working some of this out as I write this post.
I might do great. I might end up in a mental institution. Hopefully it’s one of those like Passages Malibu where famous people go because of “stress”.
Thanks for Reading.
“GMO Mosquitos” Edition
“Scientists to Release Genetically Modified Mosquitos to in Florida to Combat Denge, Zika.”
Reasons why you might be upset:
- “Just what we need from 2020: MORE MOSQUITOES”
- “GMO is bad enough for you, now we have mutated bugs?!”
- Another reason to hibernate in a hole for the remainder of the year.
- Mosquitos carry diseases! Why release them if they can spread the diseases?!
Reasons why it’s not that bad:
- The “mutated” “GMO” bugs are male versions of the breed of skeeter that carry dangerous Zika and Dengue viruses (among other things).
- Only the female of the species bite, (biting makes babies, gross) and the males are the ones being released.
- these male “frakensquitos” have been engineered to produce only MALE offspring.
- this is merely a small scale study. In Florida. So, don’t go to Florida?
Thanks for reading.