A couple older stories about my crazy kids

Yesterday my sister and I were talking about our blogs.  She mentioned how she loved the name of mine and so I told her how I'd come up with it.  Years ago, I'd been working on a book about my kids.  In it were a ton of short stories about them and the crazy things they used to do do. The title was 'My Kids and my Retreating Sanity'.  But, I said, I haven't written many more short stories because my kids are older now and they don't do quite as many crazy things as they used to.  

She laughed at me.  "Mi, your kids definitely DO do crazy things still.  You're just desensitized to it all!"

Hahahaha!  Yeah.  So anyway, here are a couple of those stories I had written long ago. :D  

Silence is never a good thing...

“I swear, I locked the door.”  That’s the answer I got from Kyle while I sat at home and he got his trailers loaded in Regina.  He’d just finished asking me if I’d be up when he got home and I answered his question by saying, “Sure.  I’ll still be up wiping up all of the caulking the kids got into because someone forgot to lock up the furnace room when he was done in there.”

Hmmm.  Now that the kids are in bed and the caulking is all cleaned up, I thought I’d take a minute to tell you about it.  Maybe I should start at the beginning.

This morning I went to Saskatoon and dropped Kyle off at the NRT shop so he could go to work.  My mom was a dear and watched Ashtynn for me and picked Emery up at noon so I didn’t have to worry about things.  The ride down was nice, the ride back was quiet, and I had fun visiting with mom when I got back.  Anthony got home from school and we all had a snack while we watched the second Harry Potter movie; we’re having a Harry Potter marathon right now because the box set containing years 1-6 got here today and well, when you have that many movies in a series, the thing to do is watch from beginning to end. :)

So, my day was going splendidly when the kids decided they were tired of watching Harry and went downstairs to play in their room.

Kyle text me.  How’s your day going?

Good.

How are the kids.

Excellent.  They’re being so good today.

Right on.  I’ll be home tonight about midnight.

At this point, I realize… it’s pretty quiet down there.  I tip toe down the stairs and find all three of them with pieces of jip rock, markers, a little saw, a hammer, some unused light switches and two tubes of caulking.

Emery looks at me, proud as can be.  “Look, mommy, we’re fixing!”

Ashtynn grins.  “Fixing!”

Anthony looks up midswing with the hammer.  “Fix!”

“I’m sure you are, but this is daddy’s stuff and you’re not allowed to play with it.”  I pick up the caulking, grab the hammer and little saw, and put everything back into the furnace room and lock the door.  We head back upstairs to have a snack and watch some more Harry Potter.  I look at my phone.

Do you think you’ll be up when I get home?

… Well, you know the rest of the story.  Hahaha!

Owy is never a good word

“Owy, owy, owy, ooooowwwwww!”

This is never a good sound when you’re making supper and the scream is coming from another room.  If you’re me and it’s coming from your children, you calmly tell yourself that supper is now postponed and a trip to the hospital is in order.

I’m serious.  My kids are tough… like, superhero tough.  Like, all three are running full speed in the house and manage to run into a wall, get up and do it again kind of tough.  The two year old can be lying of the ground and the seven year old will jump on her and she’ll look at him and scream… not in pain… in anger… because he made her drop her pony.  That kind of tough.  Or the five year old will jump off of his bed, trip, and smash his face into the floor, then show his siblings how to do it just like he did.

When one of my kids is screaming owy at the top of his lungs, I know it’s not going to be a good sight.  Owy means skin is missing, blood is flowing, or body parts are no longer bent in the proper direction. (thankfully, the latter has only happened once and it was a toe.  Toes are a minor body part, so I’m not even sure if it bears mentioning).

So tonight when I heard that dreadful word, I took a deep breath, and headed into my bedroom which was where the horrible sound was coming from.  This usually means a wrestling match gone wrong. My kids have a great time trying to kill each other.  It happens every day and I’ve given up on trying to stop them.  I’d never clean, I’d never eat, hell, I’d never be able to have a shit if I was trying to keep it from happening.  Survival of the fittest is the law in my house and so far, the three of them seem pretty well matched.

I heard my daughter jump off the bed and scramble to her bedroom.  I heard another thump as one of the boys jumped to the ground.  This left the five year old screaming at the top of his lungs, so I knew who was the object of today’s assassination attempt.

My first instinct when I walked into the room was to start yelling.  I opened my mouth, took a deep breath, and stopped.  I was speechless.  And then I started to laugh, because, well, it was funny as hell (though apparently not to Emery who had his head wedged between the mattress and the box-spring of my bed).  That’s right.  Today’s attempted murder was by means of head squishing.  Somehow, this was fun (I never did get a straight answer as to how or why Emery thought it was a good idea to let his siblings put his head between the mattresses) .  Stick brother’s head in mattresses and jump.  Sure, I can see the logic in that.

After freeing my son and making sure that his skull was still intact, we had a small group discussion as to why it is a bad idea to squish your brother’s head between two objects of any kind.  The three of them ran downstairs (to plan their next assassination, I’m sure), and I went back to making supper, shaking my head while thinking to myself that today was a good day. No bent body parts, no missing skin, hell, not even a single drop of blood to wipe off the floor.

So, let me rephrase that.  Today was not good.  It was fantastic. :)

Hahahaha!  Stay safe, everyone!

The Day I Thought I'd Have to do this Alone

I'm going to start this blog off with a post I wrote a few years ago.  As a trucker's wife, one of the worries you have is that phone call that lets you know there's been an accident. I love my husband. We are partners. We keep each other grounded.  The thought of living my life without him sends me into panic attacks.  I love that man.

The day I wrote about here, it was the most horrifying, most heartbreaking day of my life.  Others who have almost lost their love will relate.

As of the day I publish this first post, I've been married to my husband for fourteen years and together with him for sixteen.

As of 5 minutes ago, (when he text me) he's alive and well.  So don't go having panic attacks reading this. lol

There Are No Words

'I says, "Pig Pen, this here's the Rubber Duck.

"We just ain't a-gonna pay no toll."

So we crashed the gate doing ninety-eight

I says "Let them truckers roll, 10-4."

I smile as my father-in-law's ring tone rings out of my cell.  "Allo?"

"Hey.  Are you home?"

I pull out the coffee pot out.  "Yep.  You coming for coffee?"

"Nope. I'll be there in a minute."

I reach for the tea kettle instead and true to his word, Ken is walking through my front door a minute later.  He looks around the living room.

"Where are the kids?"

I gesture to the back yard.

"Mimi, I'm going to Saskatoon.  Kyle's been in an accident."

I look at him blankly while this registers and I silently pray for the 'sike' I know isn't coming.  "What?"

"Kyle's been in a bad accident."

"On the highway?"  My heart drops and my chest tightens.

"No.  In the NRT yard.  I couldn't get a whole lot of details, but it sounds like he got hit by a truck."

Visions of Kyle being hit by a semi flash through my head.

There are no words to describe how I feel. Shocked, devastated, scared, overwhelmed.  These words will never accurately describe the feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I fight back the tears so I won't scare the kids and grab my cell to let my dad know the tiny bit of information I have.

"Kids, come on!" I call out the window.  "You guys are going to go play at Grandmere and Grandpere's!"

The kids whoop and holler and come running into the house.  I remember the diaper bag and Anthony's seizure medication and that's it.  As a last second thought, I call the dog to come along... I'm not sure why.

My mom and dad are waiting for us on the front lawn.  Dad pulls me into a hug.

"Are you going alone? Do you want me to come along?"

"Ken...." I start to break down and take a few deep breaths to compose myself before the kids can see.  "I'm jumping in with Ken."

By then my father-in-law has pulled up behind me.  I hand my mom the diaper bag.

"I... I think there's diapers in it.  Anthony's pills are in there."

"Where are you going, mommy?"

I contemplate telling the kids their dad got run over by a truck and I come up blank on how to do it.

My mom hugs me.  "Mommy and Papa have to do some running around."  To me she says, "We'll wait till we know more, and we'll let them know then.  Go.  We'll worry about the kids."

I try to smile then run to Ken's truck, detour to my van, let the dog out, then head back to the truck.

He fills me in on the news update he's gotten. (This is Kyle's rule, by the way.  If anything happens to him, everyone is suppose to get a hold of his dad first, who is then in charge of telling me. I think it's supposed to make the bad news seem.... less bad? I don't know.)  Knowing I'm about to lose it, I pick up my phone and call Kyle's best friend since he was, well, born; his cousin Sheldon.

"Hey, Mimi, how's it going?"

"I've been better.  I'm on my way to Saskatoon.  Kyle was in an accident.  I'm not sure exactly, but it sounds like he was working under his trailer and when he slid out from under the trailer, a truck didn't see him and ran over him."

We're both quiet for a minute.

"I'm off till tomorrow," he says.  "If you need anything..."

"I'll let you know.  Thanks.  As soon as I know more, I'll let you know."

And as we leave Prince Albert to go to Saskatoon, all I can think of is that at this moment, my husband is in an ambulance and on his way to the hospital.

A half hour into our hour and a half ride (though it didn't take that long at the speed my father-in-law was driving) and no news later, I'm getting close to breaking down once again.  Ken is either feeling the same way, or can see I need something to do.

"Do you have dispatch on your phone?" he asks. (He drives for NRT, too)

"No."

"Grab my phone and phone the bulk side."

I do as he says and am glad when Dale picks up the phone.  I love his voice.  It's deep and calm, and right now, it's just what I need.

"Hey, Dale, it's Mimi. Can you tell me what the hell happened?"

"We're not sure.  All we know for sure is that somehow the tire truck pinned him to his trailer.  We don't know why the kid driving didn't see him or the semi there, or anything like that, but we should be able to tell more once we look at the video more closely.  What I can tell you is he was conscious when the ambulance took him away."

Tears fill my eyes because that right there is great news.  One, he didn't get run over by a semi, he was pinned by a one ton. Yes, I realize that it's still not good news, but if I had to pick between a semi and a one ton to run over or hit me, I'd pick the one ton.  And two, he's conscious."

"Do you know what part of him got pinned?"

"From what he told the cops and paramedics, its sounds like from the top of his chest to his knees."

I must make a noise because he rushes on.  "But, Mimi, a few guys looked at the tape and say he was bent over when the truck rolled towards him.  He stood up a fraction of a second before it pinned him."

The realization of that statement hits me and new tears fill my eyes. Had he not stood when he had, it wouldn't have been my father-in-law bringing me the news of my husband's accident.  I take a deep breath and swallow hard a few times.

"Ok.  Thanks Dale.  I should be at the hospital in about an hour.  I'll let you know how he is when I find out."

"K.  Let him know we're all thinking about him."

I relay this information to Ken.

"Well," he says, "it's better than being run over by a semi."

We look at each other and start to laugh, because, well, it's better than crying.

We finally get to the Royal University Hospital and head to emergency where we are met by another of Kyle's cousins who lives in Saskatoon and came to be with him so he wouldn't be alone.  Billy gives me a hug.

"They won't tell me much cause I'm just his cousin, but he's getting a CT scan and x-rays done right now.  I haven't seen him yet."

"Mimi!"

I turn and get a hug from Wendy, one of the secretaries at NRT.

"They're not telling me much either," she says, "even though when they asked who I was, Kyle told them I was his wife until his real wife got here."

I can't help but laugh.  Leave it to Kyle to get pinned between two trucks and still joke around.

"What I can tell you is what I saw before they wheeled him away for his scans.  He's having trouble breathing, so maybe some broken ribs, his right leg might be broken, and his left arm, but he's concious and he's joking."

A few minutes later, we watched as he gets wheeled by on his way to the room he's staying in.  He's covered in blankets, he's wearing a neck brace, there are IV's and lines everywhere, and when the bed rolls over a small bump in the floor, I want to cry at the pain I can see he's in.  I think there he is; the man I love, who I've been with for eleven years, been married to one month shy of eight.  We've been through hell and back together, and he's lying there and there's nothing I can do for him.  I kick my praying into high gear.  Please, dear God, I can't do this without him.  You can't take him away from me.

A couple of hours later, Billy and Wendy have gone home and we've promised to phone should we need anything.  Kyle's mom and sister are also at the hospital and we are still waiting for news.  Karen, my sister-in-law, and Ken head to the NRT yard to go get his things from the truck.  Marlene and I wait and try to keep Kyle as comfortable as possible while the nurses try to keep up with the overflow of patients.

Finally, two doctors walk into the room and look at my husband in amazement.  The one holding the chart looks at me.

"You're his wife?"

I nod and he looks at his chart again.

"I'm sorry we took so long," he says, "but we were trying to find something wrong with him."

Everyone is quiet for a second and I finally find my voice.

"What?"

"Well, we did the CT scan and xrays, and there's nothing.  Well, nothing major.  But nothing like what we would usually see with this type of accident."  He takes the neck brace off of Kyle and tilts the bed up so he can see.  "You must be made of steel, Kyle."

Kyle catches his breath after the pain just sitting up has caused.  He smirks.  "Milk does the body good."

I'm still in shock, I think.

"So, here's what we found.  You have torn ligaments in your knee, a small break in your elbow, and your ribs are bruised, but not cracked."  He shakes his head.  "Not one cracked rib.  You'll be extremely sore for a while, the knee will take a long time to heal, but other than that..." He grins.

"So... he's fine?"  I'm still sure I haven't heard right.

"He's fine.  The man got pinned between two trucks and he's fine."

Now, when I prayed to God not to take my sweet away from me, I'd been willing to deal with paralyzed, missing limbs, anything, but this... this is a miracle.

"I'll go get you a brace and some crutches, and I'll be back."

"So he gets to go home?"

The doctor still looks just as shock as I feel.  "You can take him home."

"Mi, can I bug you one more time?"

I smile.  "That's what I'm here for."

"Can I get a glass of water, please?"

I take Kyle his water and kiss him softly, then go back to the kitchen and start to cry.  Tears of relief, tears of joy; tears of thanks.  My sweet is home and well.  He is in a lot of pain, he can barely move, and has to go see a surgeon about his knee on Tuesday, but he's here.

And for the millionth time today, I thank God for answering my prayers and throwing in his own miraculous twist in there for good measure.

We still aren't sure what happened exactly, but I'm sure they'll figure it out with the investigation going on. Mostly, Kyle just remembers standing and getting pinned then pushing the truck off enough to get out.  He then walked a short distance before declaring that he didn't feel good, and fell to the ground.  Right now, I can honestly say I don't care.  I'm just happy he's home. But for the sake of avoiding accidents like this again, I hope they find out what went wrong.

To all of you who prayed for us that night and kept us in your thoughts, thank you.  I will never be able to say it enough.