Thanks, Mom...

Just a quick funny from Mom:

As we sat waiting at the pharmacy today, Mom jumped up and approached a man sitting across from us.  Very loudly she said, "I just wanted to warn you.  My dad (she points to me) is going to hit on you. I thought I'd give you the chance to run."

Yummy...

This is hanging in Mom's window today.  There's a stuffed bulldog, an empty paper towel roll, and enough dried up bread for a nice sized meat loaf.  Can you say yummy?               

Cruise control and flat tires...

This disease is so fickle.  Mom can go from not knowing her own name to calling me by name in the blink of an eye.  We have been going through each day on a virtual cruise control.  We sort of steer the day on the familiar route. Then we cruise along at the same safe speed that has been navigating the turns and speed-bumps with relatively little discomfort to the occupants of the car.  And then we get a flat tire and we have to pull over and regroup.

Well, today was definitely a day of flat tires and regrouping.  After several months of relative passiveness, Mom chose today to revert to her attempts of escaping from a moving car.  I had started to think the seat belt locks had become unnecessary.  My dad would have said, "That's what you get for thinking."  Mom and I were heading home from Walmart.  It was hot, she was agitated, I was frustrated, I forgot to put the lock on her belt.  Between her complaints of having to get home, having to go into a store and pay them, being late to work, etc., I heard the tell tale click of the seat belt being released.  I told her that she needed to put her belt back on.  She then attempted to open her door.  Thank goodness for "Grandma locks" on the back doors.  I again told her to put her belt on.  She slid over to the other door and tried to open it.  And, being my mother's child. I yelled, "You put your seat belt on right now young lady!  Do not make me pull this car over!"  Guess what?  It worked.  I learned from the best.  

We made it home safely.  But, I knew it wasn't over when she got out of the car.  She headed for the street and said, "I'll see you later."  I tricked her into the house and began the Grandma proofing that I haven't used in months.  The kitchen door closed and blocked.  The living room sofa blocking the front door with my big butt in the middle of it.  We've been home about 90 minutes.  She's had lunch and a snack with her requisite negative observations, "What is this white crap?  I haven't eaten in 2 days. I'm hungry."  I've settled in for a long afternoon with my Pandora, ear phones and laptop.  She is unhappy with the arrangement.  But, she's safe and I'm saving my remaining sanity.  You take the wins where you can.

I'm guessing this retro-phase won't last for long.  Tomorrow we will probably be back on cruise control.  She will likely complain and talk about leaving with no real attempts to do so.  But, I have to wonder if AAA includes virtual flat tire assistance in my membership.

Getting the message...

I'm not sure that I've ever felt this low.  Or this lonely.  I've always believed and accepted that I'm supposed to be alone.  And I have always been okay with that.  It's not that I'm not interested, it just never works out for me.

But, there are times, like tonight, that I just want someone to give me a hug and ask me if I am okay.  Because tonight?  I'm not okay.  I will get up tomorrow and try again.  But, tonight I cannot pretend that I'm not lonely. 

I have never felt that my life has been more of a failure than I do right now.  I am a lousy daughter who can show her mother not the smallest amount of compassion.  I have no patience.  I don't like her.  And I am ashamed.  She deserves so much more than what I am giving. 

My brothers have pretty well washed their hands of us.  One still pretends that nothing in this house is, or has been, of any concern to him.  The other brother, for the most part, has not contacted me since Mom started day care.  Mom's times at the day care fall on his days off, so, he is off the hook apparently.

But, legally I cannot walk away.  I am here, giving the little energy I have left to a woman who does everything in her power to see the negative in every situation.  Just like she always did, only now there is no filter.  I am angry, apathetic and depressed. 

And then there are my beautiful girls.  They are my world.  They used to know that.  I doubt that they still do.  I'm sure that they get up each day and ask themselves, "Which Mom will she be today?  The mellow Mom who can laugh and tease with us?  Or the Mom that cries all day?  Or the psycho Mom who screams about dishes not being done and then cries all day?"  Great choices aren't they? 

Yesterday, I read a caretaker's blog that said that our mind will believe what we tell it.  So, we should get up each day and tell ourselves that it will be a beautiful day full of opportunities to be positive.  I try to do that.  I honestly do.  But, lately my life just isn't getting the message.

Treasure in a ziploc...

Just a quick funny...

This morning as I was walking Mom to the Day Care van, I noticed that her purse was a little heavy.  I soon became sorry that I hadn't donned a pair of gloves as I reached in through a dozen or so wadded up tissues, past the beat up wallet that holds childhood pictures of my brothers, and down to where she keeps her abandoned lids, dried bread crusts, paper clips and marbles.  And there it was, the weight.  Apparently, Mom has decided to collect the tableware from her lunches at the day care. I pulled out a knife, fork and spoon. 

As I sheepishly asked the driver to please return my mother's ill-gotten bounty, he started laughing.  I mean gut laughing.  He got Mom buckled in, reached into the front seat and held up a ziploc baggy filled with silverware.  He laughed some more, and told me that at least one family each day comes to the van with at least part of a place setting.  He was impressed that Mom had gotten the entire set. 

Fast forward to this afternoon when Mom arrived home...

Each time I meet Mom at the van and try to coax her off, I always check to see whether she has her purse.  We all know how crucial that purse is to the peace of this household.  Anyway, today, she was sent home with a "dummy" purse.  While, Jose helped Mom down, I checked the contents of the decoy purse to make sure that there weren't any more pilfered utensils.  I pulled out a sock, a ratty, faded blue wash cloth, a flyer for last year's haunted house and a toothbrush.  The treasures in that purse made me feel much better about her choice to steal silverware. And whether a little old lady here in town was driving her family crazy looking for an old, blue rag. . 

No right...

It's 2 am and here I sit typing.  It's what I do when things get really bad.   It somehow helps me make sense of the senseless.  But, tonight there is no sense.  Just an overwhelming feeling of failure and shame.

Sometimes, on nights like these, I will sit in Mom's room while she fights the pills that will give us all a few hours of peace, and know just what I will say here.  Tonight, my words fail me.  Sitting here looking at a mostly blank page, I realize that I have said it all before.  I am still that person who complains and fails to do anything to make it better.  And until I find a way to do just that, I have no right to the words that console me.

I'm so scared...

Well, things are pretty normal around here.  Wow, that's probably the scariest sentence that I have ever typed.  This is normal?  Wow.  That, in itself, is a profound commentary of my daily experiences.  Here are some observations of my normal:

-Katie was outside riding her scooter up and down our very long driveway.  Mom is standing next to the driveway.  As Katie scoots by, Mom says, "Don't leave!  Please, don't leave!"  Katie reaches the end of the driveway, turns around and heads back the other direction.  And Mom says, "Don't leave! Please, don't leave!"  And, for a few minutes, I know they are both safe.

-As I am sitting here typing, Mom is on the couch, across the room, panicking.  She apparently needs to be somewhere, anywhere, other than here.  She keeps saying that she needs to get away.  She is repeatedly addressing me as "Sir."  I ignore her.  Finally, in her best Mom voice from my childhood, she says, "Nancy!  Are you listening to me?"

-I have become used to Mom yelling at strangers in the store. "They're leaving!  You're not going to let them leave without us are you?"  Or, pointing at a young lady, "There you are!  Get back over here right now!"  Or, her yelling in an impatient voice at a young man looking at a display,  "Are you coming?"  The saddest was when she wouldn't leave Burger King unless she could tell them thank you.  She approached the  manager, hugged him and cried on his shoulder until I had to pry her off.

-When I get Mom dressed each morning, as I hand her a pair of pants, she always checks the waistband and turns the pants around to correctly put them on.  And, when I hand her the pair of shoes, she always places the right show on the right foot and the left shoe on the left.  So, why is it that she can come out during the day with her underwear on the outside of her pants? And strut it likes its the latest trend.  Or, most evenings, after she goes to her room, she comes out with a shirt pulled on as a skirt with the neckline as the waist band?


And, her favorite declaration, that must sum up her perception of her current situation, "I'm scared.  I'm so scared that it scares me!"