The Big Unknowing Bus and I Call BS!

There are times you learn things from a book, the internet (that can be iffy) or the news (even iffier these days).  Most of the time what we learn is from rotten, twisted, beautiful, glorious life. The best lessons come when you didn't know you needed to know something that you didn't know. That’s when the big Unknowing Bus comes to screeching halt at the end of your driveway. BEEP BEEP. Get on bitches! 

We never know where we’re going but, according to my optimist friends, it’s all about the ride, right?

I CALL BS!

At times like these all you can do is piece together some ugly patchwork quilt of that yellow Holly Hobby bedspread you had when you were 7, orange peels, old carpet remnants and candle wax that you hope and pray and hopeandprayandhopeandpray will resemble order and common sense.  The hope is that the end result will make you look all smart, like you knew what you were doing all along. Nothing to see here, keep it moving, people. Sometimes my inability to summon order and conjure common sense makes me cry. Or giggle. Or both at the same time. Sometimes it’s all I can do to not faint from the vapors, panic, give away the family secrets and spend the rest of my life under the covers. And drink.

But, somewhere in the midst of my mind-chaos, I must have the strength and wherewithal to call BS.

Now, in this conundrum of twisted, beautiful life when do we learn to call BS?

If you're lucky, you have some friends who are generally smarter than you and they’ll be happy to tell you all about your BS.

Take for instance my daughter's autism. I didn't know ANYTHING. If I could make that ANYTHING the size of the moon it still wouldn't encompass the THINGS I didn't know. She was six months old and missing milestones and I only knew "milestones" because of those parenting books that I poured over like they were my Bible. Young and shy and knowing NOTHING I asked the pediatrician. Old school fella that he was he just said babies progress at their own rates. I called BS. And you know what? I didn't know more than that. Just that it felt wrong. Lucky for me I had a friend who agreed on that BS and handed me the knowledge I needed at that moment.

And life goes on. Keep weaving that quilt. Get back on the *#%&* bus!

Rinse and repeat.

Marriage, pregnancy, step-children, preschool, elementary school, home ownership, middle school (aka HELL), IEPs, LREs, debt, AIG, moving, self-harm, depression, unemployment, anxiety, learners permits, death, the boss from hell, college, money, taxes, love, family, friends. Caring for my aging mom.

PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME RINSE AND REPEAT! Someone tell the driver to MOVE THAT BUS!

At each age and stage I am faced with this cavernous unknowing. It can be small things like pumping gas (yes when I moved south I didn’t know how to pump my own gas, shut up). It can be BIG things like moving your ailing mom 700 miles from home and untangling all her ribbons, tentacles and connections. Either way, big or little, the unknowing for me is the hardest part of the entire process. So here we are, 15 months after mom has moved down here, after I made HUGE life decisions for her because she was unable to do that for herself, and BLAM, that huge *%&# Unknowing Bus has stopped outside my house to pick me up again. I’ll get on, kicking and screaming, but I’ll be damned if I know where the hell I’m going.

I guess I’ll let you know when I get there. Please be waiting for me with order, common sense, drinks, giggles and a sham wow to dry my tears. Or heck, you could hop on with me. It's all about the ride, right?

I couldn't do it without you.