I dream of a place...

I dream of a place:

-Where you will only find people who respect other people and their differences.

-Where our children can be children again.

-Where only people who contribute in some way will be allowed to stay. You won't be kicked out for falling on hard times. You will be offered a helping hand, but you will not be coddled and you will not get something for nothing.

- Where mistakes will be allowed... as long as you take responsibility for your mistakes. Don't even think of blaming it on your parents or your childhood or suing someone to get something for nothing... you are an adult... act like it.

-Where there is only the need for one law... Treat others as you want and expect to be treated.

-Where prejudice and intolerance will not be tolerated... unless it is against stupid people, so, sorry, there will be no WalMart.

-Where changes will be brought about by the people... not by lobbyists nor the CEOs nor the person with the most money.

-Where teachers, fire fighters, police officers and military personnel make more money than sports figures and movie stars.

I am not looking for perfection or Utopia. I just want to live in peace without all of the garbage and negativity that is closing in on us.

You are all invited... What would you like to see in our place?

My six words...

Lately I've read several references to  The Six Word Memoirs.  Simple idea really... write your memoir but only use 6 words.  It's not as easy as it seems.

Here are some of my choices:

I'm now ready for tomorrow's nap.
Being my Mother's parent really sucks.
Hold on, it's gonna get rough.
Warning: Hula Hoops may cause laughter.
Just because you said I couldn't.
And now I will sing "Feelings".
 I am tired of being strong.
Kids are my reason for living.

You get the idea. Try it.   Hey, that's six words... maybe we can do The Six Word Instructions next.

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Button pushing Mama...

What is it about my mother that still pushes my buttons?  I want so desperately to have patience.  Each day as I get up I just know that it will be the day that I am patient.  But, all of things that my mother did that irritated me throughout my life are magnified.  Intellectually I know that it is the disease that makes it worse. But, emotionally it is still the same old manipulative behavior.  And I am at a loss on how to separate it.

I love my daughter...

I love my daughter.  Not a big surprise right?  I mean moms are supposed to love their kids.  But, when you watch your children surpass you, it is such an incredible feeling.  When they take the best of you and make it their own and then some?  Incredible.  One of my proudest moments was when I realized the my oldest daughter's level of smart-assedness (yes, that's a word!) had exceeded my own.  And, trust me, that is no small feat. 

But, for the past 2 weeks I have watched my daughter stand up for herself and do what is right.  I always tried to do what was right.  But, stand up for myself?  I probably learned to do that in my 30s.  She is 17.  And today she was rewarded for her stand. 

She is so much more than I will ever be... she is kind, witty, driven, organized (I barely know what the word means) and confident.  She makes me proud each and every day and I am thankful that I was given the gift of her presence in my life.  I love my daughter.  And I am proud.

More choices...

I'm still thinking about those choices that I mentioned before.  You know, the little ones that you make along the way while waiting for your life to start?  Yeah, those.

For me it was, "I want to be a teacher and make a difference. But I need money for college. So, I'll just take one year off, save some money and then go back to school."  Or, "I'll join the Army, get some training, and get money for school so that I'm not in retail my entire life."   Or, my favorite, "I know he's not right for me but I can date him until my soulmate comes along." 

No, I'm not a teacher, but I was in retail management for 25 years.  I taught people every single day and I made a difference. The Army didn't pay for my education because I didn't go back to school. But it did help me buy a house and settle down.  And the guy?  He's long gone but he left me with the best things in my life.  My children.  My life finally started when I had my girls.

And those dumb choices that I made don't look so dumb afterall. I may not have ended up where I planned to be but I ended up where I am meant to be.

24/6...

It's interesting that as the only daughter, it was assumed that I would be the one to take on the care of my mother.  Is that a law of nature?  Is that a pact that men made at the beginning of time?  "We no help babies. We no help old people."  Thumping of chests.  Dragging of  knuckles.  I don't mean to insult all men.  I know of men who have dedicated large portions of their lives helping their parents.

However, my brothers are not among their ranks.  I have two living brothers (2 died so I'm giving them a pass on this).  One of my brothers will have absolutely nothing to do with my mom.  I mean nothing.  And after begging my other brother (yes, begging) he takes my mom for 7 hours a week, IF it does not conflict with his plans and IF he is feeling well.  Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for those 7 hours. But, who takes her when I am sick?  Who cares for her if I have plans?  That last sentence made me laugh... me? Have plans?  Anyway, I am whining about this because my brother, the self-proclaimed Saint for helping me, announced today that he doesn't know how I do it 24/6.  Yes, his 7 hour stint that he does when there is nothing conflicting, counts as a full day of care.  I never knew that the 24 part of 24/7 meant "or any part there of."

I am...

I am not a hero.  I am not a saint.  I am not amazing.  I am not doing anything that you wouldn't do in this situation.  I am not deserving of your praise. I am doing nothing to earn your respect.  I am not going to Heaven for what I am doing.

I am a daughter who takes care of her Alzheimer's mother.  I am a caretaker.  I am human.  I still lose my temper.  I allow my mother to push all of the old buttons.  I love my mother but I am tired.  And I am lonely.  I resent this disease that takes so much from her.  And from me. And forces my children to be  caretakers.

 But mostly I am ashamed because I just want it to be over.

Warm and fuzzy shoes...

I find it interesting that there are some long-term friendships that pick up right where they left off, even after an extended break.  They are like a pair of old shoes that just hug your feet. They just make you feel warm and fuzzy. That is the way it is with my friend "Jerry" (the name was changed to protect the innocent or because that was the nickname I always called her).

Growing up, Jerry was my complete opposite. She was outgoing, I was painfully shy. She was popular, I was painfully shy. She was daring and exciting, I was painfully shy.  Did I mention that I was shy?  And my shyness had a great deal to do with the break we took. She was so much more than I was. She knew who she was way back in the 6th grade. I figured out who I am while in my 40s. Big difference. But, Jerry and I had lunch today and it was just this warm, loving fun time... just like in middle school.

Thanks, Jerry. I love you, girl.  And thanks for waiting for me.