I have been busy with travel, leaving me little time for writing. Now that I have a breather I can write about a few Momisms. You know, the stuff that happens that tells you this is real life, not a commercial where everything is rosy and plastic. When Momisms occur I take a second to look at them and allow myself to chuckle at them. For they are usually signs that Mom is not stabilizing, but is a shade lighter than she was the day before.
I was sitting in my office when the house phone rang. I always listen in on my parents’ conversation. Not to fulfill any voyeurism need I am hiding from everyone. No, I listen, because I worry that one of them will give out personal information over the phone, to a stranger. Mom was giving short answers to someone asking for a charitable contribution. I heard her say, “Yes, I would like to give some money, but how???” Boing! Boing! Boing! Red flags are popping up in my mind. “Oh, you need my credit card number?…hold on, I will have to get it.” I sprang into action like a phone police superwoman. Since I knew the caller was an unknown to Mom, I quickly told her to never give her credit card number to anyone, especially a charitable organization she never heard of. Mom returns to the phone, “I’m sorry I don’t know you and I am sure you are a very nice person, but I can’t give you my credit card number. I am sorry. Can you send me something in the mail?” I guess the person couldn’t do that because she quickly said good bye and hung up. I have to give Mom credit for being nice. I am nasty when it comes to any phone solicitation. I guess I have more Dad in me when it comes to such matters.
A couple of weeks ago, Mom went with me to wash windows and do some cleaning at my house. It is almost ready to be put on the market – yea! The really huge YEA! goes to Mike, Laura and family for all of their work on this never ending project. Mom and I arrived at the house. There is a flurry of activity going on: Mike was working downstairs while a construction crew of 3 men were redoing my sidewalk and two retaining walls. We stepped around the wet cement, tools and over a threshold that was in the making. We started cleaning. Mom took a break and then asked me what’s next. She had already informed me, “I don’t do windows. I just pay someone to wash my windows”. OK, Princess Marilyn. She did the final mopping of the hardwood floor. By the time she was done, I had finished the window in the small office. She said she would mop the floor. I reminded her to use the furniture spray, like she did in the other room. Mom started spraying the polish directly on the floor. “Mom!” I yelled in my alarming voice. “Just spray the polish on the mop and then mop the floor so you don’t get too much polish on the floor.” The filter slid down a couple of notches and in the most haughty tone she could muster she replied, “Well, I wasn’t raised to be a maid.” Ooohhhhh….Mom gets in a dig. “I know, Mom. Me neither” I replied.
We started washing the windows in my bedroom, which overlook the side yard. A man walked from the front yard, through the side and into the back. “Who is that man?” Mom asked. “He’s the owner.” I replied, referring to the construction crew working out front when we came in earlier. “He owns this house???” Mom asked. “No, that is the guy who owns the cement company working on the sidewalk.” I answered. Without missing a beat, Mom stated emphatically, “That’s good, because I’m not washing his windows!”. I didn’t bother to explain that we were in my house.
I smile when I recall all of her Momisms. They are gems to be remembered and brought out when things get worse, as they inevitably will. When an exhausting day has drained me of my humanity, it will be the Momisms that will ease away my weariness. I pray that her wit and kindness will remain to the end. That way, some of Mom will stay with me and all of us till her final days.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Foreboding
My girls and I recently went on vacation for a week to the Jersey Shore. We really needed this time together. Each of them is beginning their senior year, with Adrienne in college and Emily in high school. I just had this tremendous urge to scoop them up and wrap a loving cocoon around them. For I knew that time would whoosh by and suddenly I would be waving goodbye to each of them as they headed off to their respective grad/undergrad schools.
The when or where of the vacation was easy. We have vacationed at Ocean City, NJ for years. We all love it there. In fact, several of this clan’s families have spent time in OC. The stickler for us was what to do with the dog.
A year ago I brought home a puppy. Finnegan, named after the family’s Irish heritage, is a friendly, lovable dog, weighing in at 18 pounds. A lap dog full of fluff hair.
As the most adorable member in this household, everyone just loves Finn. He has been especially beneficial for Mom. She has an object for her love and affection. And boy, does she heap it on him! Finn, in return, naps faithfully with her everyday. He also is a dog who loves to play, give kisses and quietly sit by Mom’s side as she does her crossword puzzle. In short, he is Mom’s therapy dog and our family pet.
Unfortunately, there are many times when Mom will let him out of the house without a leash. Or times when she ties him up outside and then forgets about him. Luckily, either I or Em catch Mom just before she opens the door without leashing him or hear Finn whining outside. Then, there are times when I have been away all day, only to find his water dish empty. None of this is terrible, since its occurrence is sporadic.
Back to the week at the beach dilemma. Worrying about how Finn was faring at home, would not lend itself to a very relaxing time for me at the beach. It was finally decided amongst myself and my girls that we would have Adrienne’s boyfriend’s family take the dog for the week. For several days I told Mom the plan, explaining that they are trying to convince their dad that a dog would be great to have around the house. Each time Mom said OK, but the sadden look on her face just about killed me. Still, I persevered. I didn’t want to worry about the dog all week. I know, I am terrible. I totally sacrificed Mom’s love for the dog for my sanity. I didn’t know any other way. I felt horrible. Even writing this now, I still feel guilty. Shit!
When it was time for Finn to go, I was out running last minute errands for the upcoming week. By all accounts, Mom was pissed, sad and totally confused. At one point she said aloud, to no one in particular, “No one asked me about this!”. Double shit!!
Mom called me several times during the week to ask where Finn was staying. She was convinced that Finn was staying with the parents of one of my friends and they lived up the street. I would explain to Mom where Finn was and that he would be home by Saturday. We live on a hill that ends in a school parking lot. I had visions of Mom wandering around the top of the hill, looking for Finn. My guilt was working overtime.
Upon further thought, I realize that this is only a preview of things to come, should Dad pass away before Mom. She fretted about the dog – a dog, for crying out loud! I can’t imagine how bad it is going to be when Dad dies. My fear is that she won’t have the mental capacity to fully process his death, her mourning and be able to move forward. When your partner of 55+ years passes, moving forward is extremely difficult, in the best of circumstances. In Mom’s case, I doubt it will ever happen. With that, I fear that she will slide into a downward spiral like an inverted tornado, turning her world into never-ending confusion and loss as widowhood whips around her.
I don’t dwell on this image – much. It exists in the dark corners of my mind, a misty air laden heavy with anticipatory grief. I shake it off, for the most part. On days when Dad’s face is completely drained of color, he gasps for breaths and appears confused, a foreboding feeling rises from the murky sadness; I quickly tamp it down. Mom doesn’t notice Dad’s decline, as much. I don’t mention it. It will happen one day. There isn’t any sense in having both of us worry.
Until then, and I pray “then” is a long ways off, I just keep taking it one day at a time in this house where confusion is the norm. I look for the rays of light from God, energizing my soul whenever possible.
Peace,
JaneEllen
The when or where of the vacation was easy. We have vacationed at Ocean City, NJ for years. We all love it there. In fact, several of this clan’s families have spent time in OC. The stickler for us was what to do with the dog.
A year ago I brought home a puppy. Finnegan, named after the family’s Irish heritage, is a friendly, lovable dog, weighing in at 18 pounds. A lap dog full of fluff hair.
As the most adorable member in this household, everyone just loves Finn. He has been especially beneficial for Mom. She has an object for her love and affection. And boy, does she heap it on him! Finn, in return, naps faithfully with her everyday. He also is a dog who loves to play, give kisses and quietly sit by Mom’s side as she does her crossword puzzle. In short, he is Mom’s therapy dog and our family pet.
Unfortunately, there are many times when Mom will let him out of the house without a leash. Or times when she ties him up outside and then forgets about him. Luckily, either I or Em catch Mom just before she opens the door without leashing him or hear Finn whining outside. Then, there are times when I have been away all day, only to find his water dish empty. None of this is terrible, since its occurrence is sporadic.
Back to the week at the beach dilemma. Worrying about how Finn was faring at home, would not lend itself to a very relaxing time for me at the beach. It was finally decided amongst myself and my girls that we would have Adrienne’s boyfriend’s family take the dog for the week. For several days I told Mom the plan, explaining that they are trying to convince their dad that a dog would be great to have around the house. Each time Mom said OK, but the sadden look on her face just about killed me. Still, I persevered. I didn’t want to worry about the dog all week. I know, I am terrible. I totally sacrificed Mom’s love for the dog for my sanity. I didn’t know any other way. I felt horrible. Even writing this now, I still feel guilty. Shit!
When it was time for Finn to go, I was out running last minute errands for the upcoming week. By all accounts, Mom was pissed, sad and totally confused. At one point she said aloud, to no one in particular, “No one asked me about this!”. Double shit!!
Mom called me several times during the week to ask where Finn was staying. She was convinced that Finn was staying with the parents of one of my friends and they lived up the street. I would explain to Mom where Finn was and that he would be home by Saturday. We live on a hill that ends in a school parking lot. I had visions of Mom wandering around the top of the hill, looking for Finn. My guilt was working overtime.
Upon further thought, I realize that this is only a preview of things to come, should Dad pass away before Mom. She fretted about the dog – a dog, for crying out loud! I can’t imagine how bad it is going to be when Dad dies. My fear is that she won’t have the mental capacity to fully process his death, her mourning and be able to move forward. When your partner of 55+ years passes, moving forward is extremely difficult, in the best of circumstances. In Mom’s case, I doubt it will ever happen. With that, I fear that she will slide into a downward spiral like an inverted tornado, turning her world into never-ending confusion and loss as widowhood whips around her.
I don’t dwell on this image – much. It exists in the dark corners of my mind, a misty air laden heavy with anticipatory grief. I shake it off, for the most part. On days when Dad’s face is completely drained of color, he gasps for breaths and appears confused, a foreboding feeling rises from the murky sadness; I quickly tamp it down. Mom doesn’t notice Dad’s decline, as much. I don’t mention it. It will happen one day. There isn’t any sense in having both of us worry.
Until then, and I pray “then” is a long ways off, I just keep taking it one day at a time in this house where confusion is the norm. I look for the rays of light from God, energizing my soul whenever possible.
Peace,
JaneEllen
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