Thursday, November 17, 2011

My Poor Husband

The Bossman is such a good husband. For several years now, every time we would take the family on a trip in the pick up truck, I would be very scared. And weird. And mean. And, basically a giant pain the rear end for the entire trip. Especially the driving part.

Recently, I saw my little old doctor, and requested some medicine that would help me with this problem. PrissE was instrumental in helping me with this. I believe her exact words were, "Gurl, just go get a pill."

With that, a prescription was written, and then picked up at the friendly Walmarts pharmacy. I just needed a car trip to try the stuff out.

Yesterday, we went on a car trip.

The Bossman and I needed to take Jag on over to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas for his annual check up. This trip would combine all my 'triggers': a long car ride, a doctor, a teenager, heavy traffic and brake lights.

We loaded up the truck and left at 3:55am. At 4:00am, only one small block from our house, the Bossman decided he forgot the GPS device and we needed to turn around. I snapped at him one time, then fished the pill from my bag and took one. Let's just see how this works.

In about 20 minutes or so, I felt relaxed. I no longer wanted to jump out the truck window and walk home to never leave my house again. It only took 20 minutes! A little further down the road, I became very sleepy. It was still dark, after all, so I reclined the seat and slept for a long time. I woke up and still felt great! I talked to the Bossman, and began a closer monitoring of the truck radio, but all was still really good.

As we got closer to Dallas, we would have an occasional conversation about the meaning of brake lights or the positioning of street signs. I think Jag and I had one brief conversation about pointing out things on the side of the road for dad to look at while he was driving in heavy traffic, but all was still going really well. I was being..... pleasant.

Instead of loud terrifying gasps from the passenger seat while I strangled the door handle and constantly checked to see if my seat belt was safely fastened, I would occasionally say, "Oh! That startled me!" And, the Bossman would laugh.

I felt so relaxed, that I found it easy to channel Dr. Phil. I would say to Jag and the Bossman something like, "You know I have this travel anxiety. Why would you (fill in the blank here of some irritating Y chromosome activity)?" Then, I would tell them that Dr. Phil would say they were working against my success. Jag thought those moments of counseling were funny at first. After a while, he put a movie on the DVR, and settled into the head phones.

I was busy trying to trick the GPS device when I asked the Bossman what he thought about the new medicine I took. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, that pill didn't shut you up, but you're being nice and funny. I think it's worth it."

Jag decided to chime in with, "Yeah Mom, you should take them more often."

We're home.

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