A day in the life of an oilfield wife

My husband is up before dawn, and gone within five minutes of waking up.  I'm left alone laying in bed with the familiar pit in my stomach.  I'm alone, again.  It's not long before I'm up to.  I have the normal housewife chores, the mom chores and the household chores.

I also have the honey-do-list.  I would love to make a honey-do-list for my husband.  I would love to have more help with things around the house.  But that's not going to happen anytime soon.

That's not to say he doesn't help; because he does.  Yesterday he worked 18.5 hours.  That doesn't leave much time for a honey-do-list.

Honey will you please mow the lawn?....you're kidding right.
Honey will you please find the smoke alarm that is chirping and fix it?....do it yourself.
Honey will you please carry that really heavy bookshelf downstairs?...find a way to get it down there yourself.
Honey will you please take out the trash?...put on your big girl panties and do it yourself.

I have been known to take apart pieces of furniture (like bookshelves or dressers), carry the pieces downstairs and put it back together. Sure that can take me an hour or more and it would take him five minutes.  But I know that that five minutes is five minutes less that he could see the kids, and they need him even more than I do.

We are wanting to buy a generator for backup heating in the cold North Dakota winters.  So finding an electrician and researching generators...my job.

Figuring out what homeschool curriculum to use...my job.

Finding a place to take the car in to get some work done...my job.

Honey-do-lists are for only the things I absolutely, positively can not do myself.  As time goes on and my power tool skills grow, this is less and less.

You may be thinking right now that this is crazy, and you're right.  You may be thinking right now that he should help me more, but there you're wrong.  When he has days off he is willing to help me with anything I desire help on.  But the thing is, that we need to just hang out with him.  The kids need to play with their dad, they need to catch bugs with their dad, they need to talk to their dad.  And I need to cuddle on the couch and watch TV with him, more than I need him to take out the trash.

The kids and I have long days.  He doesn't have a regular schedule; he isn't home at 5:00 sharp everyday; we don't know what time he will be home til he walks in the door.  Some days it could be 2:00 but that is rare.  Most of the time the girls and I eat dinner without him.  Most of the time he is here to help put them to bed. Sometimes he isn't.

Our lives are unpredictable. We could move somewhere new at anytime.  He could go out of town for work and be gone for a week or two, or even three. Some oilfield men are gone for months at a time.  We could get a call saying there has been an accident on the rig at any moment.

I hear so many people say "oh the money must be great".  Yes, it is a good paying job, so I can go buy a brand new extra large plush couch...and sit on it alone.  That good paying job comes at an even higher price.

My kids are good, loving kids but some days they whine and kick and hit each other like crazy.  Much like any other kids I'm sure.  But when they start acting out of control 99.9% of the time they haven't seen their dad much lately.  And it breaks my heart that they miss him so much.  It breaks my heart that I can't even tell them how much longer it is til he comes home.

By now, you probably think we would be nuts to live this life. You may be onto something there.

The oilfield, like it or not, runs America.  Your car needs gas and you probably use things like shampoo, shaving cream, nail polish, hair dye, lipstick, lotion, and band aids.  In your house you probably have a refrigerator, paint, pillows and trash bags. Your kids probably play with balloons, crayons and footballs.  You probably take aspirin and antihistamines. You probably wear clothes and shoes. And all those things need oil to make them. (see more things made with oil here)

You can not even ride a bike to avoid supporting the oilfield, cause those bike tires are made from oil.

There is a certain sense of pride that comes with knowing you're part of something that runs the greatest country in the world. My husband is supporting his family in the way that he knows best, and he loves the oilfield. We love him.  He is oilfield through and through. We are an oilfield family.

We wouldn't have it any other way. We are oilfield proud.

My husbands rig.

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