Around the Clock Servants

Being a Hauler’s Wife isn’t all that glamorous.  In fact, I can think of quite a few other titles that might just suit me better:  Mother Extraordinaire would be my first choice, followed by Simply Amazing Homemaker or Made-it-From-Scratch Chef. Titles are funny things.  As a teacher I received accolades from my colleagues and most certainly my husband had higher regard for the work I was doing.  For whatever reason, “just” a stay-at-home mother is expected to perform with extra pizazz: be in charge of the family--discipline, finances, social gatherings, thank you notes and family albums-- maintain a tidy house, keep a variety of home made food on the table, keep the kids clean (ohhh, I can't tell you how many times I've chased kids with hairbrushes and toothbrushes!),  spiff up the hubby each morning before he embarks on his day and elevate HIS personal happiness to #1 on this list.  Oops, I left one off ...  run the hauling business. Moms, like other around the clock servants, need vacations.  I'm way past due.

Deciding What to Keep

Receiving calls from people who have lost loved ones always breaks my heart. What will I do when I'm faced with the inevitable?  How will I even begin?  I've learned that feelings have be sorted quickly as the business of death leaves no time for mourning. I imagine sitting in the middle of a house deciding how to sort:  One pile to keep, one to donate and one for the dump. Cold, harsh reality. Who’s to say what has meaning when everything left was important enough in some way to keep.  We receive calls from children cleaning out their parent’s houses, parent’s cleaning out their children’s houses and neighbors helping neighbors. 

My heart broke the morning I received a call from a distraught woman.  Hearing the crack in her voice, I shifted from my normal carefree receptionist voice and quieted my chirpy responses.  She informed me she was calling from out of state--Texas.  "I am sorry" she said through her tears, "My son, he was attending the university--second semester--I received a call yesterday--no matter, I need to schedule a pickup".  I softly asked her a few questions--location, what was to be picked up--the usual queries, but with a kinder probe.  She explained to me that her son died and she needed to move his belongings from his apartment to re-coup his deposit.  The expenses of the funeral were mounting and she was trying to save anywhere possible.  I took the information and made the necessary arrangements. 

  

I spoke to Sue daily until the apartment was cleaned out. She told me she had never been to her son's college town so I took pictures and emailed them to her. I became an un-biased listener as she described her son. She had recognized a change in her relationship with him but thought it was because he was busy with new friends and challenging college courses.  Not long before his death he suggested she come for a visit to see his apartment and meet his friends.  She wanted to go, but money was tight and her work schedule was heavy.  She promised a visit soon and "now," she said "there is no time".  He was young, healthy, and fun-loving.  "How can this be?" she asked her faceless new friend. 

Rather than send Sue an invoice, I sent her a box filled with pieces from her son’s life.  Knowing what to send Sue was challenging.  Pictures, of course, of happier times but what else?  I struggled as I chose music CDs, a bottle of cologne, a comfy jacket, beach worn sandals, a personal diary and books with inscriptions.  With finality, I taped up the box and readied it for mailing.  I gathered my two little girls and cinched them safely into our car.  As I pulled from my driveway destined for the post office I glanced at their round soft faces in the rear-view mirror.  Sue's son was gone--forever.  I cleared my thoughts and with a new understanding I called out to them-- "After we stop by the post office, how 'bout the zoo today, girls"?  

Too Good for Second Hand Goods?

Throughout the years we have furnished houses, sold enough items to purchase vacations, donated tons to homeless shelters, thrift stores, and families in need. At first our family and friends were a little leery of our “Sanford and Son” style.  But as the finds continued, they began to ask, “hey, if you get a dresser in decent shape let me know” or “do you ever run across kid’s toys or clothes?” We have even had people ask if they could come to a jobsite to pick through the items prior to us “trashing out” the house or apartment.

One trailer load that always makes me chuckle came from a college student’s abandoned apartment. The women left behind everything!--furniture, clothes, kitchen accessories and food. Our driver was thrilled!  He salvaged all the canned and unopened food. The furniture went to one of our neighbors who was having a yard sale (who ended up making over $200 from all the furniture) and the clothes came back to my house for sorting. 

At the time I had a very well-kept friend.  She always had the latest hair style, never missed a nail appointment and never, never left her house looking anything less than chic. I thought of her as I opened the bags -- these would be perfect for her small cute frame! I gave her a call and without giving her any detail I offered the booty!

The clothes had been taken out of the garbage bags and sorted prior to her arrival.  The trailer had been moved from our driveway.  The evidence of their origination had been wiped away!  As I suspected, she was thrilled to see all the designer jeans and cute t-shirts and tops. She gathered everything enthusiastically with her girlish coos of approval and then turned to me and asked, “where did all this come from?” I smiled slyly and asked if she wanted the real answer or the answer she would like to hear. She scratched her head, laughed and said, “don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.”

Other People's Trash

My boss is my husband. We haul trash. We have been compared to ‘Sanford and Son.” As the adage goes, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” This is true. It wasn’t until the car was pushed out of the garage that I began thinking that we may have a problem.

As a “stay at home mother” my duties entail the usual: take care of the children, keep the house clean, keep up on the laundry, play with the children, grocery shop and prepare food. Oops, I almost forgot the other duties I squeeze in between my already busy days: answer the work phone, scheduling employees, making (and changing) daily driver routes, invoicing and preparing payroll. I am sure I am missing a few items from both lists; however, these are the duties that keep me the busiest throughout each day.

My friends have always told me how lucky I am to be home with my children. In my mind, I laugh to myself: “if you only knew.” Often times, I wonder if I would have been a better wife and mother had I gone back to work. Maybe it’s easier to leave the house early in the morning, stop by the market on the way home and rush the kids into bed only to start all over the next day. I am sure that phone calls taking precedence over my children won’t get me nominated for mother of the year; however, I am hopeful that when our kids look back on their childhood they will remember all the “fun” outings and treasures they received from other people’s “trash.”