Change is good...

While I was getting Mom ready for her shower this morning, I asked her to take off her shoes.  First shoe comes off, a quarter and penny go rolling across the floor.  Second shoe comes off, another penny pings on the linoleum.  She stands up and takes her pants off, another quarter.  Gotta wonder what she is doing in her spare time.  So we're up to 52 cents.  By the time she stepped into the shower, there were 2 quarters and 5 pennies on the floor.  She showered and as she stepped out, I kid you not, another quarter drops from somewhere (do NOT make me think about where) onto the floor. 

I know you're thinking that this is kind of weird (and a little gross).  I'm thinking I made 80 cents. 

Sand castles...

Today was a bad day... more bad news in an already overwhelmingly bad time. As I sit here thinking, sinking into my melancholy, my mind's eye keeps seeing flashes of the ocean as it pounds the shore. I see a rather simple sand castle. There is a woman scrambling to finish the structure before the sea steals it all. The castle is humble. I feel the joy she is feeling in her work. As the tide finally starts to recede, I see her straighten and stretch her tired muscles, tears slowly slipping down her cheeks. She looks at me and I feel her struggle... the struggle of knowing that her castle is safe for today but if she wants it to stand tomorrow, she must return and fight the fight again. All the while knowing that the ocean is merciless and it will take it all. The sea will win. The sea always wins. And she will wonder why she fought at all. 

Things you never want to hear...

Mom just walked into the room and said, "It's cold in here.  Do you know where the matches are?"

Cutting off my nose to spite my face...

So, my brother won't be watching our mom on graduation night.  No, he didn't back out.  We did.  Turns out that my oldest daughter was as uncomfortable as I was about accepting the "favor" from him.  Ironic that watching his mother is a favor to us, but anyway...

Everything about it made me uncomfortable.

- If we had let him do it I would feel like I owed him a thank you.  I don't see or hear either of my brothers thanking me.  It is assumed that since I volunteered that I somehow have given up any expectations of gratitude.*  One of them once said that since I volunteered that I deserve what I get.  Yeah, no gratitude there.  So, I am petty enough that offering my thanks for a couple of hours of help is not going to happen. 

- I would have to speak to him.  I don't want to do that.  He cut us out of his life.  He is not going to be welcomed into ours because of this.  This time is for my youngest and I don't want to ruin it by adding the stress of dealing with him to her special day.  I want to focus on the joy, not the jerk. 

-He is not welcome in this house.  And he made it clear that he would not take Mom into his.  He was angry the last time he watched her here because we don't have cable. Apparently, he missed a big game.  Can you imagine the trauma of such a loss?  Such a sacrifice he made.  Yeah, cable was the first thing to go when I left my job to do this.  He's lucky we had electricity for him to read by. 

-I am so angry and disappointed with him that I could spit.  I put up with a lot from people.  I tend to forgive very easily, but once I'm done, I am done.  Accepting his help at this point would be more stress than I can handle and would make me feel like a hypocrite.
 
So, my oldest daughter will miss her sister's graduation so that she can watch her grandmother.  That makes me sad.  There is so little that we are able to do as a family.  But, it is a solution that I can live with for now.  


*After reading this through I need to clarify... I don't need or expect gratitude.  That is not why I'm here.  It is simply that I would appreciate it if he could recognize that my family has made huge sacrifices for this situation.  Whether I volunteered or not, we are here in the trenches everyday which gives him the luxury of ignoring the entire situation. 

This is how we roll...

This will be the fourth time in a year that I need to go to the dollar store and get one of those toilet paper spring loaded thingies.  Apparently, Mom has a collection started.

Pretty soon, we'll be the only ones in the neighborhood who lock up our toilet paper and our tooth-brushes.  Jealous, aren't you? 

 

Making the cut...

I have to be honest, each time a Facebook friend posts a quote about negativity or a status about cleaning up their list of friends and removing the negativity, I am surprised that I made the cut.  I feel as if all I do is complain and dwell on everything negative.

Each day I try to pull myself up and find a small portion of my sanity and my optimism. So many times, I say nothing rather than gripe or complain. But, I can only hold it in so long before I burst and the negativity comes spewing out of my mouth like a possessed woman with Tourette Syndrome.

As I sit here typing, feet up, Mom is sitting across from me. Each time she sees my feet move she yells, “OUCH! ” She then complains that I am hurting her... each and every time that I move. The problem is that we are on two separate couches and I am eight feet away from touching her. This is typical. I am wrong more often than I'm not. And that wears on me.

Then it hits me, I need to complain.  It is the way that I relieve stress.  This is not a normal situation where happiness is a choice.  This, with all of its anger and frustration, is my reality.

I will continue griping and moaning.  And I will continue sharing the positives when they happen.  But, if I don't make the next cut?  I understand.  I truly do.  Just don't be surprised if I blog about it. 

I want my mommy mood...

I'm having a really bad evening.  One of my medications is really kicking me in the butt.  I'm not feeling well, I'm not sleeping, and last night, neither did Mom.  I finally have a doctor's appointment next week.  Hopefully, they can help me and adjust the meds.  But, today I just want to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over my head.  Well, not really, that freaks me out, but you get the idea. 

Anyway, Mom stepped off the day care van in an extreme I-need-my-mommy mood.  Guess who she thinks is Mommy?  At least until I tell her to do something.  Then she somehow remembers that I'm not.  Unfortunately, an I-need-my-mommy mood requires a lot of patience.  I want to have patience, I really do, but it just isn't happening.  Each time I lose my patience (which has been non-stop) I feel my head just about ready to burst. 

What's one more breakdown, right?