I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed this week. I need to blog for therapy but am not even sure where to begin. We’re down to the wire (tomorrow) to have D1 emptied, have family visiting this week, CeCe’s track season has begun… and of course, Grandma. I’m reminded of the “Gotta, Wanta, Oughta” philosophy I used to utilize. Every task was mentally categorized and then prioritized in writing. It worked. I took care to include some “wanta’s” in my high priorities for my own mental health.
A few years later, I described my life as a stove with two rows of burners. The front row had only one burner and the back had several. I was the ‘cook’ who masterfully moved the pots of my life back and forth… taking care to tend them all but typically focusing on the front burner (7-9 minutes, cover – remove from heat).
My life has now progressed to what I’m calling the Bowling Pin Stage. I don’t multi-task as well as I used to. For the sake of this analogy, I will assign labels to the ten current bowling pins of my life…. in no particular order.
CeCe – age 15, social, athletic, homework, etc.
Grandma – no explanation needed
Children/Grandchildren – Our sons, their wives and their families… emphasis on grandchildren!
Sleep – If only we could exist without it. I could sure use those six extra hours in my day.
Work – Often a welcome diversion but still usually 40 hours of fairly intense brain strain
Housework/Laundry – Ya gotta have clean underwear, clean house is optional
Cooking/Shopping – Don’t shop, can’t eat.
Church/Bible Study – Fuel
Other Relationships - Often reduced to reading Facebook statuses, emails and text messages
Urgent Issues – Currently emptying D1 (Grandma’s apartment)
Unlike the stove analogy, where I move the pots back and forth between the front and back burners… the BPS is much different. Not only are the pins much further away from me – the automatic pinsetter positions them randomly. I stand at a distance, with a mere twelve pound bowing ball… (all I can handle) realizing it isn’t the weight, but the technique and finesse with which it is thrown that will yield the greatest score. I will aim for the pocket with high hopes – knowing a dead-on hit to the head pin will garner a split (which would then require a choice… and as you know, I’m decision impaired).
My three step approach (Pray, Plan, Pray again) is followed by release over the second arrow. I step back and watch the ball veer toward the pins of my life, standing stubbornly at the end of the alley. Clunk, clunk clunk … a few pins topple over. The ball returns and I go for the spare. Clunk, clunk. The little arm comes down and clears the remaining pins. The pinsetter replaces them and I try again.
Frame after frame, day after day – I throw ball after ball trying to get a strike. I can’t break 100. I need bumpers… I need a beer frame…. I need help.
You may have noted DH was not included in my pin lineup. There’s a good reason for that – and it isn’t because he’s not a high priority because he is. But DH isn’t found at the end of the lane with the pins of my life. He stands by my side and is involved in my every throw. He coaches me to move to the right or left… warns me not to loft the ball… advises, cheers, and consoles. He inspired me years ago, as I watched him live with and care for his own confused father…. and continues to encourage me as he helps care for my mother, as a son.
On Friday we will celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. Each year has held its own unique challenges and blessings. Having Grandma living with us is both, DH’s help makes it possible…. He picks up my spares and keeps me out of the gutter! Happy Anniversary DH – I love you.
So ends Episode 16
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Episode 15 - I Can See Clearly Now
Spring has finally arrived in Iowa. The melting snow and returning sunshine have brought to our attention, the dirty windows in the front our house. "Add it to the list..." DH says, referring to our never ending 'to do' list, though I knew it wouldn't be high priority.
Yesterday was a beautiul day. It was 60 degrees outside and the sunlight was streaming through the dirty windows.... well, it was streaming through two dirty windows - and a sparkling clean one.
G: What do you think of my window? Doesn't it look nice? (She's referring to the window next to her chair... the only one no longer covered in a yucky winter muck.)
Me: What happened? Did you clean the windows?
G: Just this one.... So I could see out.
Me: Did you find the window cleaner?
G: No, I just used some wet towels and rubbed it.
DH: We had cleaner right there in the kitchen.
G: I managed. The outside was harder. I had to get a step stool.
Me: Mom! You shouldn't be on a step stool.
G: I had to stand on one to get the screen out.
DH: You didn't need to take out the screen...
G: I did if I wanted to get the window clean.
DH and I look at each other and say nothing. What's to say? Some people see things that need to be done - Grandma just does them.
G: I just love my window....
One evening a couple weeks ago, Grandma told me she had lost her glasses. Since she was wearing them, I asked what I thought was the obvious question:
Me: Where did you find them?
G: I haven't found them yet.
Me: Mom, you have your glasses on...
G: Oh, these aren't my regular glasses, this is another pair I found in my purse.
Me: But they look exactly like your regular glasses... and when did you get a second pair?
G: Well, they are quite similar... but this part here is different (she points to the bows).
I look closely at the bows.... and the frames in general. These look like the only pair of glasses I've known her to have in the past couple years.... and the pair before these were easily recognizable because she had duct tape on the frames. (I mean, why would you want to get your glasses fixed when they are being held together perfectly with duck tape?)
I gently try to dissuade her from both the notion that her glasses are lost AND that she's wearing a spare pair. But forget that.
For the next several minutes, Grandma presents an argument that would sway any jury. She tells me word for word, what the eye doctor has "just" told her "with regard" to differentiating between the two pair. I sit silent, trying to take it in ... all the while knowing Grandma hasn't been to the eye doctor in over a year. She has ONE pair of glasses... and she has them on.
A few days later, I asked Grandma if she had found her glasses yet. "Yes, yes I did," she says happily. I didn't ask where she found them... or when. It took everything in me NOT to ask to see the spare pair of glasses - even under the pretense of 'comparing' the bows. For whatever reason, Grandma imagined losing one pair of glasses and finding another ... it's just another one of those "things" that we're getting used to.
No matter really. Grandma has her glasses. She has a clean window to look out. Spring has arrived. Life is good.
So ends Episode 15
Yesterday was a beautiul day. It was 60 degrees outside and the sunlight was streaming through the dirty windows.... well, it was streaming through two dirty windows - and a sparkling clean one.
G: What do you think of my window? Doesn't it look nice? (She's referring to the window next to her chair... the only one no longer covered in a yucky winter muck.)
Me: What happened? Did you clean the windows?
G: Just this one.... So I could see out.
Me: Did you find the window cleaner?
G: No, I just used some wet towels and rubbed it.
DH: We had cleaner right there in the kitchen.
G: I managed. The outside was harder. I had to get a step stool.
Me: Mom! You shouldn't be on a step stool.
G: I had to stand on one to get the screen out.
DH: You didn't need to take out the screen...
G: I did if I wanted to get the window clean.
DH and I look at each other and say nothing. What's to say? Some people see things that need to be done - Grandma just does them.
G: I just love my window....
One evening a couple weeks ago, Grandma told me she had lost her glasses. Since she was wearing them, I asked what I thought was the obvious question:
Me: Where did you find them?
G: I haven't found them yet.
Me: Mom, you have your glasses on...
G: Oh, these aren't my regular glasses, this is another pair I found in my purse.
Me: But they look exactly like your regular glasses... and when did you get a second pair?
G: Well, they are quite similar... but this part here is different (she points to the bows).
I look closely at the bows.... and the frames in general. These look like the only pair of glasses I've known her to have in the past couple years.... and the pair before these were easily recognizable because she had duct tape on the frames. (I mean, why would you want to get your glasses fixed when they are being held together perfectly with duck tape?)
I gently try to dissuade her from both the notion that her glasses are lost AND that she's wearing a spare pair. But forget that.
For the next several minutes, Grandma presents an argument that would sway any jury. She tells me word for word, what the eye doctor has "just" told her "with regard" to differentiating between the two pair. I sit silent, trying to take it in ... all the while knowing Grandma hasn't been to the eye doctor in over a year. She has ONE pair of glasses... and she has them on.
A few days later, I asked Grandma if she had found her glasses yet. "Yes, yes I did," she says happily. I didn't ask where she found them... or when. It took everything in me NOT to ask to see the spare pair of glasses - even under the pretense of 'comparing' the bows. For whatever reason, Grandma imagined losing one pair of glasses and finding another ... it's just another one of those "things" that we're getting used to.
No matter really. Grandma has her glasses. She has a clean window to look out. Spring has arrived. Life is good.
So ends Episode 15
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Episode 14 - Two and a Half Women
The TV continues to be a centerpiece in Grandma's life. DH found a remote control online that only has power, volume, channel and mute buttons. He bought three. With a Sharpie marker, we labeled each remote with the TV it controls (ie: the room it belongs in). Grandma still manages to carry them from room to room and gets frustrated when the TV won't work with the remote she's using. She then calls for DH, who fixes it for her.
DH and I enjoy watching some of the crime drama programs on television but have found these not to be Grandma's cup of tea. She doesn't care for any kind violence... so when we watch with her, we opt for game shows and reality television. She also likes sports, so if all else fails, there's always ESPN and the Golf Channel.
There are a few programs she especially looks forward to... one being, Lawrence Welk. Yes indeed... Grandma is the Champagne Lady (move over Norma Zimmer) every Saturday night when Iowa Public Television airs a thirty or forty year old rerun of this musical classic. Last evening, when DH and I returned home, we found Grandma fully engaged in her favorite weekend activity. I comment quietly to DH that we should have recorded it for her. At the next commercial, DH takes the remote and restarts the program, pressing "Record". We then sit down to watch the program with her. A middle-aged blonde in a bright blue suit begins singing.
G: Oh good, they have her on again. She sang a little while ago.
DH: Did she sing this same song?
G: No, it was a different one... and she didn't dance like that either.
We smile that Grandma had some recognition of what she'd seen an hour or so earlier, but was getting a little different perspective this time round. She enjoyed the repeat of a religious number as well as a dance number. I think she thought it a bit odd that the show's finale was "another" patriotic number, but she thoroughly enjoyed every song, every time.
This afternoon, we were again watching the Golf Channel. As with any sports broadcast, the commercial content is fairly predictable... beer, cars and other 'guy' appealing advertisements. Sure enough, right as we return to the 13th hole, Grandma asks the question I've long dreaded.
G: What's Cialis?
DH: What?!
G: Ci-alis. Is that how you say it? What is that for?
Me: It's a pill for men. (I exercise extreme caution NOT to lift my head from my laptop keyboard.)
G: What's it for?
Me: It's testoterone. Just like women lose estrogen as they age, men lose testosterone. It's testoterone replacement therapy.
G: Oh.
Not only can I not make eye contact with Grandma... I am careful not to look at DH either (at the risk of one or both of us losing our composure.)
A minute later, my cell phone signals a new text message. It is from DH (who is sitting 3 ft. away from me) ... "Just call it a boner pill" This graphic term is used regularly on one of our favorite sitcoms, which is likely what DH feels like he's starring in!
So ends Episode 14
DH and I enjoy watching some of the crime drama programs on television but have found these not to be Grandma's cup of tea. She doesn't care for any kind violence... so when we watch with her, we opt for game shows and reality television. She also likes sports, so if all else fails, there's always ESPN and the Golf Channel.
There are a few programs she especially looks forward to... one being, Lawrence Welk. Yes indeed... Grandma is the Champagne Lady (move over Norma Zimmer) every Saturday night when Iowa Public Television airs a thirty or forty year old rerun of this musical classic. Last evening, when DH and I returned home, we found Grandma fully engaged in her favorite weekend activity. I comment quietly to DH that we should have recorded it for her. At the next commercial, DH takes the remote and restarts the program, pressing "Record". We then sit down to watch the program with her. A middle-aged blonde in a bright blue suit begins singing.
G: Oh good, they have her on again. She sang a little while ago.
DH: Did she sing this same song?
G: No, it was a different one... and she didn't dance like that either.
We smile that Grandma had some recognition of what she'd seen an hour or so earlier, but was getting a little different perspective this time round. She enjoyed the repeat of a religious number as well as a dance number. I think she thought it a bit odd that the show's finale was "another" patriotic number, but she thoroughly enjoyed every song, every time.
This afternoon, we were again watching the Golf Channel. As with any sports broadcast, the commercial content is fairly predictable... beer, cars and other 'guy' appealing advertisements. Sure enough, right as we return to the 13th hole, Grandma asks the question I've long dreaded.
G: What's Cialis?
DH: What?!
G: Ci-alis. Is that how you say it? What is that for?
Me: It's a pill for men. (I exercise extreme caution NOT to lift my head from my laptop keyboard.)
G: What's it for?
Me: It's testoterone. Just like women lose estrogen as they age, men lose testosterone. It's testoterone replacement therapy.
G: Oh.
Not only can I not make eye contact with Grandma... I am careful not to look at DH either (at the risk of one or both of us losing our composure.)
A minute later, my cell phone signals a new text message. It is from DH (who is sitting 3 ft. away from me) ... "Just call it a boner pill" This graphic term is used regularly on one of our favorite sitcoms, which is likely what DH feels like he's starring in!
So ends Episode 14
Friday, March 19, 2010
Episode 13 - Respite Weekend Part 2
I am NanaMama’s youngest son and her guest writer today. My beautiful wife (BW) and I recently spent a weekend looking after Grandma. She (Grandma) and I have always been very close... we even share the same birthday. We lived only a couple miles from her growing up, and when I was in grade school, she drove me to school every day. During the summers, she would happily drop everything, to drive me to the golf course or swimming pool. I enjoyed spending a couple nights every week at her house, up until junior high, when time with Grandma lost out to time with friends, sports and homework.
As you know, when my Mom (NM), DH and CeCe made plans to take a long weekend to Kentucky, they called in reinforcements! With a weekend full of conference championship basketball, I couldn’t help but think of myself as the bench, coming into the game when the starting lineup needed to catch their breath and drink some water.
BW and I (along with our dog, Kaycee) pulled into Iowa at 2:30 am on Saturday morning. It was a late, rainy drive from North Central Missouri where we live, but we thought it best, to be in Iowa when Grandma woke up in the morning. My oldest brother, his wife and their daughter had also spent the night with her.
Morning came quickly. My brothers and I, all have pleasant memories of Grandma making us pancakes for breakfast, so my brother attempted to make pancakes for the family while I brewed coffee and Grandma reviewed her itinerary (an event that would occur and recur all weekend long).
G: It is so great having you all here! Where is NM?
Me: Mom and DH went to Kentucky.
G: Oh….that’s right.
My brother and SIL had plans for the day and evening so BW and I were going to take care of their Baby. They got their things around and departed, leaving us with our 20-month-old niece and our 1,019-month-old Grandma.
Just minutes after they departed, Grandma commented on how messy the house was. I cleaned up after the pancakes (which I’d made after my brother threw in the towel following one pancake). BW began our laundry. Grandma grabbed the itinerary.
G: This says that Meals on Wheels isn’t coming today. It says chicken pot pie and salad. NM should be home soon to make that.
Me: No Grandma – she’s in Kentucky. She’ll be home Tuesday. I’ll make you lunch.
G: Oh….that’s right. Did you tell me that already?
Me: Yes.
Lunch went as smoothly as it could have. Ruby, Grandma’s former dog-sitter and good friend, walked down from the retirement apartments up the street, to visit a while. I listened to the two discuss how they always forget things, while BW put Baby down for a nap.
During the afternoon, Grandma napped as well…a nice break for all of us. BW and I had made plans to take Baby with us, out to dinner with a friend of ours. Ruby was set to return for the afternoon and evening.
At 4:30, Grandma commented that she thought it was about time for her to go to bed. While she couldn’t head downstairs to her private quarters until her evening medicine, I gave it to her, relieved to know she would be fast asleep when we came home later that evening.
Before we left, Grandma went over the itinerary with me one more time:
G: Ruby is here. You’ll be back. Where is NM?
Me: She’s in Kentucky.
G: Oh…that’s right.
Dinner with Baby was an adventure within an adventure, but that’s a story for a whole different blog. (BW and I won’t be having children for a while).
When we pulled into the house after 9 pm, I was amazed to discover Ruby and Grandma sitting up watching television.
G: YOU’RE HOME! BLESS YOUR HEART! YOU’RE HOME! YOU’RE NOT LEAVING AGAIN ARE YOU?
Me: YOU’RE AWAKE! Grandma…. why are you awake?
Ruby explained that Grandma was wound up and refused to go to bed until we got home. We quickly began the process of letting all three dogs out individually, each getting their own treat as they come inside. I looked at the island and noticed that the package of cookies which had been entirely full when we left now had only 3 cookies remaining.
Me: Grandma? Did you and Ruby eat all these cookies?
G: Oh we just sat here and kept eating them - they were so good.
Me: Did you feed any to the dogs?
G: Oh? Huh? (walking into the other room)
Me: Grandma. Did you give cookies to the dogs?
G: Oh – I can’t remember.
She brushed the question aside as she checked if the garage door was locked.
G: Are all the doors locked?
Me: I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.
G: What’d you ask?
Me: DID YOU GIVE COOKIES TO THE DOGS?
G: Oh just a couple pieces.
Me: A couple pieces or a couple cookies?
G: We broke each cookie up into two pieces. They each only got two.
Me: Grandma. DO.NOT.FEED.THE.ANIMALS. Look at your itinerary! Sugar is poison to them.
G: Oh, is there sugar in those?
Me: Let’s go to bed.
G: OK – where’s NM?
Me: She’s in Kentucky… with DH.
G: Oh – that’s right. Did you tell me that already?
Me Yes. 5 times. Good night Grandma.
G: Good night.
My Mom admits to being passive aggressive and having us “Grandma-sit” on the weekend that Daylight Saving Time changed, has not gone by unnoticed. The hour time change really seemed to have Grandma worked up on Sunday. Mom had left instructions for us not to try to change the wall clock, (that chimes every quarter hour) in the living room. I finally had to call and have DH talk me through changing it. It was really bothering Grandma. Later:
G: The clock says 11. So it’s really noon?
Me: No – It’s 11. Yesterday it would’ve been 10. But now it’s 11. Whatever the clock says, is what time it is.
Meals on wheels arrived at 12:30. Grandma was convinced all three of us should share her meal, so BW and I were forced to find our lunch then, to appease her. Baby left in the early afternoon and the rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Overall, looking back at the weekend - we were very thankful nothing major happened, though many “looks” were exchanged between BW and me, in response to conversations with our sweet Grandma. I will offer a few examples of “look”-generating conversations below:
While we were sitting in the living room watching television:
G: Where is everyone?
Me: Who is everyone?
G: The girls.
Me: What girls?
G: From the bus.
Me: What bus?
G: The one from here to Mcville.
Me: Is that a bus you used to drive?
G: Oh no! I KNOW I used to drive a bus, this was just recent.
Me: Grandma, you haven’t been on a bus to Mcville recently.
G: Yes I was. See these two broken fingernails? (Shows me her hand) I chipped them on the brick.
I digress. She may or may not have ridden a brick bus with ‘the girls’ to Mcville….but this is not my battle. (But yes, I called my Mom to check on it – negative to the bus ride).
While watching The Amazing Race on television Sunday evening, there was a scene involving WWI trenches:
G: I’ve been there!
Me: Where? When?
G: In those… (pointing to the TV screen) In the war...
M: You were in the war? (this is news to me)
G: Well, I didn’t serve, but I took the carts to the girls that were. (There are those girls again)
M: Which war?
G: World War I
Me: Grandma….what year were you born?
G: 1925.
Me: World War I was over by then…. (I tell her, silently thanking my HS History teacher, Mr. Meeker, for that morsel of knowledge)
G: Oh…then maybe it was a different war.
While watching ESPN, there is discussion of the upcoming NCAA tourney:
G: That guy is really smart.
Me: Yes Grandma, I think he is too.
G: He’s said a lot, and I’ve been looking it up. It’s all true.
Me: What’ve you been looking it up in?
G: My Bible.
Me: So the guy talking about the tournament is saying things that you’re looking up in your Bible.
G: Yes.
Me: Well, then I’m going with his picks.
A little later….
G; Meals on wheels should be here soon. Are they bringing you lunch?
Me: No Grandma. Just you. We’ll find something else to eat.
G; Well, aren’t you set up like I am?
Me: You mean where someone just brings me food to my door every day?
G; Yes.
Me: No I’m not.
G: Well, why not? It’s great!
Me: Maybe in a few years.
While Facebooking on my laptop:
G: Do you enjoy your microwave?
Me: My microwave? Like, for food? Yeah it’s nice.
G; No…. that. (pointing to my laptop).
Me: OH! Yes, my laptop. That’s nice too. But three minutes on high won’t give me fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
And not long after that, while petting Ginger:
G: She doesn’t have a key on her collar. Maybe we should get her one.
Me: A key? Like for the door.
G; Yeah.
Me: Grandma – do you think Ginger could use a key to our house very well?
G: (Laughing) Well no, I guess not.
SCORE ONE FOR GRANDMA!
Having only been with Grandma a few times since I got married in August, it is sad to see how much she has slowed down since then. It is amazing, however, to see how her personality has stayed consistent, despite her confusion. The still organized, once highly effective businesswoman carries her phone numbers, itinerary and Bible everywhere she goes. Everything, from the cars driving by, to the music on television is just as important for her to have figured out, as anything in her past. I also know her emotions are as real and lucid as ever. Her excitement over seeing her grandsons is warming. So even though I’ll never call her again to give me a ride to the pool, I will still be sure to call her, just to say hello. And next time Grandma’s starting line up needs a break, I will be glad to step in for a couple days and pass the ball around.
As you know, when my Mom (NM), DH and CeCe made plans to take a long weekend to Kentucky, they called in reinforcements! With a weekend full of conference championship basketball, I couldn’t help but think of myself as the bench, coming into the game when the starting lineup needed to catch their breath and drink some water.
BW and I (along with our dog, Kaycee) pulled into Iowa at 2:30 am on Saturday morning. It was a late, rainy drive from North Central Missouri where we live, but we thought it best, to be in Iowa when Grandma woke up in the morning. My oldest brother, his wife and their daughter had also spent the night with her.
Morning came quickly. My brothers and I, all have pleasant memories of Grandma making us pancakes for breakfast, so my brother attempted to make pancakes for the family while I brewed coffee and Grandma reviewed her itinerary (an event that would occur and recur all weekend long).
G: It is so great having you all here! Where is NM?
Me: Mom and DH went to Kentucky.
G: Oh….that’s right.
My brother and SIL had plans for the day and evening so BW and I were going to take care of their Baby. They got their things around and departed, leaving us with our 20-month-old niece and our 1,019-month-old Grandma.
Just minutes after they departed, Grandma commented on how messy the house was. I cleaned up after the pancakes (which I’d made after my brother threw in the towel following one pancake). BW began our laundry. Grandma grabbed the itinerary.
G: This says that Meals on Wheels isn’t coming today. It says chicken pot pie and salad. NM should be home soon to make that.
Me: No Grandma – she’s in Kentucky. She’ll be home Tuesday. I’ll make you lunch.
G: Oh….that’s right. Did you tell me that already?
Me: Yes.
Lunch went as smoothly as it could have. Ruby, Grandma’s former dog-sitter and good friend, walked down from the retirement apartments up the street, to visit a while. I listened to the two discuss how they always forget things, while BW put Baby down for a nap.
During the afternoon, Grandma napped as well…a nice break for all of us. BW and I had made plans to take Baby with us, out to dinner with a friend of ours. Ruby was set to return for the afternoon and evening.
At 4:30, Grandma commented that she thought it was about time for her to go to bed. While she couldn’t head downstairs to her private quarters until her evening medicine, I gave it to her, relieved to know she would be fast asleep when we came home later that evening.
Before we left, Grandma went over the itinerary with me one more time:
G: Ruby is here. You’ll be back. Where is NM?
Me: She’s in Kentucky.
G: Oh…that’s right.
Dinner with Baby was an adventure within an adventure, but that’s a story for a whole different blog. (BW and I won’t be having children for a while).
When we pulled into the house after 9 pm, I was amazed to discover Ruby and Grandma sitting up watching television.
G: YOU’RE HOME! BLESS YOUR HEART! YOU’RE HOME! YOU’RE NOT LEAVING AGAIN ARE YOU?
Me: YOU’RE AWAKE! Grandma…. why are you awake?
Ruby explained that Grandma was wound up and refused to go to bed until we got home. We quickly began the process of letting all three dogs out individually, each getting their own treat as they come inside. I looked at the island and noticed that the package of cookies which had been entirely full when we left now had only 3 cookies remaining.
Me: Grandma? Did you and Ruby eat all these cookies?
G: Oh we just sat here and kept eating them - they were so good.
Me: Did you feed any to the dogs?
G: Oh? Huh? (walking into the other room)
Me: Grandma. Did you give cookies to the dogs?
G: Oh – I can’t remember.
She brushed the question aside as she checked if the garage door was locked.
G: Are all the doors locked?
Me: I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.
G: What’d you ask?
Me: DID YOU GIVE COOKIES TO THE DOGS?
G: Oh just a couple pieces.
Me: A couple pieces or a couple cookies?
G: We broke each cookie up into two pieces. They each only got two.
Me: Grandma. DO.NOT.FEED.THE.ANIMALS. Look at your itinerary! Sugar is poison to them.
G: Oh, is there sugar in those?
Me: Let’s go to bed.
G: OK – where’s NM?
Me: She’s in Kentucky… with DH.
G: Oh – that’s right. Did you tell me that already?
Me Yes. 5 times. Good night Grandma.
G: Good night.
My Mom admits to being passive aggressive and having us “Grandma-sit” on the weekend that Daylight Saving Time changed, has not gone by unnoticed. The hour time change really seemed to have Grandma worked up on Sunday. Mom had left instructions for us not to try to change the wall clock, (that chimes every quarter hour) in the living room. I finally had to call and have DH talk me through changing it. It was really bothering Grandma. Later:
G: The clock says 11. So it’s really noon?
Me: No – It’s 11. Yesterday it would’ve been 10. But now it’s 11. Whatever the clock says, is what time it is.
Meals on wheels arrived at 12:30. Grandma was convinced all three of us should share her meal, so BW and I were forced to find our lunch then, to appease her. Baby left in the early afternoon and the rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Overall, looking back at the weekend - we were very thankful nothing major happened, though many “looks” were exchanged between BW and me, in response to conversations with our sweet Grandma. I will offer a few examples of “look”-generating conversations below:
While we were sitting in the living room watching television:
G: Where is everyone?
Me: Who is everyone?
G: The girls.
Me: What girls?
G: From the bus.
Me: What bus?
G: The one from here to Mcville.
Me: Is that a bus you used to drive?
G: Oh no! I KNOW I used to drive a bus, this was just recent.
Me: Grandma, you haven’t been on a bus to Mcville recently.
G: Yes I was. See these two broken fingernails? (Shows me her hand) I chipped them on the brick.
I digress. She may or may not have ridden a brick bus with ‘the girls’ to Mcville….but this is not my battle. (But yes, I called my Mom to check on it – negative to the bus ride).
While watching The Amazing Race on television Sunday evening, there was a scene involving WWI trenches:
G: I’ve been there!
Me: Where? When?
G: In those… (pointing to the TV screen) In the war...
M: You were in the war? (this is news to me)
G: Well, I didn’t serve, but I took the carts to the girls that were. (There are those girls again)
M: Which war?
G: World War I
Me: Grandma….what year were you born?
G: 1925.
Me: World War I was over by then…. (I tell her, silently thanking my HS History teacher, Mr. Meeker, for that morsel of knowledge)
G: Oh…then maybe it was a different war.
While watching ESPN, there is discussion of the upcoming NCAA tourney:
G: That guy is really smart.
Me: Yes Grandma, I think he is too.
G: He’s said a lot, and I’ve been looking it up. It’s all true.
Me: What’ve you been looking it up in?
G: My Bible.
Me: So the guy talking about the tournament is saying things that you’re looking up in your Bible.
G: Yes.
Me: Well, then I’m going with his picks.
A little later….
G; Meals on wheels should be here soon. Are they bringing you lunch?
Me: No Grandma. Just you. We’ll find something else to eat.
G; Well, aren’t you set up like I am?
Me: You mean where someone just brings me food to my door every day?
G; Yes.
Me: No I’m not.
G: Well, why not? It’s great!
Me: Maybe in a few years.
While Facebooking on my laptop:
G: Do you enjoy your microwave?
Me: My microwave? Like, for food? Yeah it’s nice.
G; No…. that. (pointing to my laptop).
Me: OH! Yes, my laptop. That’s nice too. But three minutes on high won’t give me fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
And not long after that, while petting Ginger:
G: She doesn’t have a key on her collar. Maybe we should get her one.
Me: A key? Like for the door.
G; Yeah.
Me: Grandma – do you think Ginger could use a key to our house very well?
G: (Laughing) Well no, I guess not.
SCORE ONE FOR GRANDMA!
Having only been with Grandma a few times since I got married in August, it is sad to see how much she has slowed down since then. It is amazing, however, to see how her personality has stayed consistent, despite her confusion. The still organized, once highly effective businesswoman carries her phone numbers, itinerary and Bible everywhere she goes. Everything, from the cars driving by, to the music on television is just as important for her to have figured out, as anything in her past. I also know her emotions are as real and lucid as ever. Her excitement over seeing her grandsons is warming. So even though I’ll never call her again to give me a ride to the pool, I will still be sure to call her, just to say hello. And next time Grandma’s starting line up needs a break, I will be glad to step in for a couple days and pass the ball around.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Episode 12 - "Did you get that, Mr. President?"
My youngest son has told me he wants to write an episode on my blog... is that allowed? Would that be a Ghost writer? Guest writer? He spent three nights with Grandma while we were in Kentucky (which he believes, and I concur) qualifies him to write about "Life with NanaMama's Mama". Since I have yet to receive his episode and I'm in need of (blog) therapy,... I'm going to post Episode 12 before "Part 2 of Respite Weekend".
DH, CeCe and I had a wonderful time on our respite weekend and Grandma greatly enjoyed having some of her "grands" here while we were gone. I got a call from my oldest son shortly after we arrived in Kentucky. He said Grandma had been watching the Golf channel and mentioned to him she'd recently played golf with Barack Obama. She said, "I told him, normally when I talk to someone and I don't agree with them, I keep my mouth shut ... but from now on, if you say something I don't agree with, I'll let you know." That totally cracked me up... Grandma (a lifelong Republican) actually really likes President Obama (to the chagrin of DH).... and I love that she has now become a personal advisor to him!
Mom and I had an interesting conversation this evening. We are here by ourselves as DH and CeCe had other plans. It is my understanding that while we were in Kentucky, Grandma seldom let her copy of my printed itinerary out of her sight. She still hasn't. Although the day by day schedule ended when we got home last night... she continues to read and comment about the various entries.
G: It says right here that the kids are going to spend the night.
Me: They did spend the night Mom.
G: When are they coming?
Me: They aren't... they were already here.
G: It says that Ruby is coming in the afternoon.
Me: I'm sure she'd be happy to come down any time you want her to... just call her, but the paper you are reading was for while we were gone. Everything on it has already happened.
G: What are we doing tomorrow?
Me: Well, I'm going to work.
G: That's not on here. Is tomorrow Thursday?
Me: That's right.
G: There's no Thursday on the schedule.
Me: ...Because we're home now Mom... the schedule was to help everyone know what to do while we were gone.
G: Today's not on it either. They brought me a dinner today, but it's not on the paper.
Me: *sigh*
You may ask why I don't throw the 'has been' itinerary away. Although that sounds promising ... experience has shown Grandma will search relentlessly for any "paper" she once had. Whether it's her phone list, junk mail or a scrap of paper with a number on it ... if Grandma had it once... she'll find it again (or drive us all crazy looking...)
Maybe it would be better, if I created another itinerary, complete with meal deliveries, appointments and perhaps TV listings. She has an innate obsession to monitor and keep things on schedule. It's how she's always been and maybe how she'll always be. I wonder if President Obama is in need of an appointment secretary?
So ends Episode 12
DH, CeCe and I had a wonderful time on our respite weekend and Grandma greatly enjoyed having some of her "grands" here while we were gone. I got a call from my oldest son shortly after we arrived in Kentucky. He said Grandma had been watching the Golf channel and mentioned to him she'd recently played golf with Barack Obama. She said, "I told him, normally when I talk to someone and I don't agree with them, I keep my mouth shut ... but from now on, if you say something I don't agree with, I'll let you know." That totally cracked me up... Grandma (a lifelong Republican) actually really likes President Obama (to the chagrin of DH).... and I love that she has now become a personal advisor to him!
Mom and I had an interesting conversation this evening. We are here by ourselves as DH and CeCe had other plans. It is my understanding that while we were in Kentucky, Grandma seldom let her copy of my printed itinerary out of her sight. She still hasn't. Although the day by day schedule ended when we got home last night... she continues to read and comment about the various entries.
G: It says right here that the kids are going to spend the night.
Me: They did spend the night Mom.
G: When are they coming?
Me: They aren't... they were already here.
G: It says that Ruby is coming in the afternoon.
Me: I'm sure she'd be happy to come down any time you want her to... just call her, but the paper you are reading was for while we were gone. Everything on it has already happened.
G: What are we doing tomorrow?
Me: Well, I'm going to work.
G: That's not on here. Is tomorrow Thursday?
Me: That's right.
G: There's no Thursday on the schedule.
Me: ...Because we're home now Mom... the schedule was to help everyone know what to do while we were gone.
G: Today's not on it either. They brought me a dinner today, but it's not on the paper.
Me: *sigh*
You may ask why I don't throw the 'has been' itinerary away. Although that sounds promising ... experience has shown Grandma will search relentlessly for any "paper" she once had. Whether it's her phone list, junk mail or a scrap of paper with a number on it ... if Grandma had it once... she'll find it again (or drive us all crazy looking...)
Maybe it would be better, if I created another itinerary, complete with meal deliveries, appointments and perhaps TV listings. She has an innate obsession to monitor and keep things on schedule. It's how she's always been and maybe how she'll always be. I wonder if President Obama is in need of an appointment secretary?
So ends Episode 12
Monday, March 15, 2010
Episode 11 - Respite Weekend Part 1
Long before we entertained thoughts of Grandma moving in with us, DH, CeCe and I had planned a long weekend trip during Spring Break, to visit our son and his family in Kentucky. We don't make the trip often and since we spend two days on the road - it's best to do so when school is not in session.
I'm a planner by nature - Grandma passed that trait onto me; so a couple weeks ago, I began preparation for the trip. I talked to two of our sons to see if either would be available to come stay at our house while we were gone. One said it wasn't likely, the other said he could come part of the time. I contact a friend of Grandma's who lives close by. She said she'd be happy to come spend time with her while we are gone. A day before we are to leave, the second son calls to say he will be able to come for a portion of the time after all. I enlist the cooperation of our next door neighbors to be available in case of emergency. Personnel: Check.
We stock the freezer with meals for those not delivered by Meals on Wheels and stock the fridge and cupboards with those things Grandma likes to eat... cottage cheese, fruit cups, pancake mix, cookies and pot pies. (Pot pie used to be a staple in Grandma's diet... she has had only one since moving in with us.) Food: Check.
I create a document detailing a day by day itinerary of who will be here and when, who will spend the night, the food to prepare, etc. I include phone numbers, instructions regarding the dogs, remote controls and a chart to track the administration of her medications. Documents are distributed to all involved: Check.
The day arrives for our trip. DH and I have taken the day off work and CeCe has gone to school for the first few periods. DH is packing while I give Grandma a shower and do her hair (the grandsons requested NOT to have to give Grandma a bath... request granted). The closer we get to departure time, the less comfortable Grandma becomes with the whole idea.
A few days prior, when I had first told her about it, I sweetened the scenario - emphasizing that two of her grandsons, their wives and Grandma's only great-granddaughter would be coming to stay with her:
G: I don't know about all this.
Me: All what Mom?
G: You leaving me and all these people coming in here.
Me: What's to be worried about?
G: I just don't think I'm up to taking care of them....
Me: You don't have to take care of anyone, they are coming to take care of you.
G: Well, do they know where anything is or will I have to tell them?
Me: They'll figure it out.
So I knew she was slightly apprehensive. She has been reading over her copy of the itinerary, carefully making notes in the margins. I'm upstairs trying to finish packing when she calls to me.
G: Where are you?!
Me: Upstairs, what do you need?
G: What day is it?
Me: Friday, the 12th.
G: Come here for a minute...
I go down to find her with her itinerary.
G: What does this check mark mean?
Me: I don't know Mom - you tell me... you made the check mark.
G: Oh.
G: What should we do about this?
Me: About what?
G: This.... from JC Penney. (she is holding an ad from today's newspaper). These dates are the same as the ones on the schedule... the 12th through the 16th.
Me: Hmmm,interesting but just a coincidence.
G: What should we do about it?
Me: Nothing... I'm not planning to shop there.
G: So should I write 'no' on it?
Me: No, just throw it away....
G: Are you sure? I think we need to do something with it. (I look at the clock... it is nearing the time for us to leave)
Me: Here, give it to me, I'll take care of it. (She hands it to me and I take it and place it in the recyling bin)
I'm taking bags and provisions out to DH who is loading the car and again I hear my name - I return to the house to find Grandma in the kitchen.
G: There you are.
Me: What do you need Mom?
G: How does my hair look? Do you think it looks ok?
Me: Yes Mom, it looks great. I just did it - don't you remember?
G: Well yes, but I wasn't sure it looked good.
Me: It does.
Back to the car... DH informs me CeCe has texted and is done taking the test she would be missing later in the day. It's time to go. We go in to say good-bye. Grandma is standing there with her itinerary.
Me: OK Mom, we're leaving now... your lunch will be here soon and Ruby will be down after that. You can call us if you want, we'll see you on Tuesday... take care of the dogs!
G: Alright... I'm going to miss you.,,, (three sets of puppy dog eyes stare at me.)
We drive away and I Twitter, "Respite weekend begins." A few minutes later, the out of state son, who is coming to help, calls my cell.
Son: How was Grandma when you left?
Me: Sort of sad. Why don't you give her a call. (ie: relieve my guilt)
Son: OK, I will.
A short while later, I get a call back from the son.
Son: Well, I called Grandma and she is ecstatic.
Me: She is?
Son: Yes - she's so excited we're coming and can't wait to see us.....
Me: Really....
And so it is: Grandma's Respite (from us) begins.
So ends Episode 11
I'm a planner by nature - Grandma passed that trait onto me; so a couple weeks ago, I began preparation for the trip. I talked to two of our sons to see if either would be available to come stay at our house while we were gone. One said it wasn't likely, the other said he could come part of the time. I contact a friend of Grandma's who lives close by. She said she'd be happy to come spend time with her while we are gone. A day before we are to leave, the second son calls to say he will be able to come for a portion of the time after all. I enlist the cooperation of our next door neighbors to be available in case of emergency. Personnel: Check.
We stock the freezer with meals for those not delivered by Meals on Wheels and stock the fridge and cupboards with those things Grandma likes to eat... cottage cheese, fruit cups, pancake mix, cookies and pot pies. (Pot pie used to be a staple in Grandma's diet... she has had only one since moving in with us.) Food: Check.
I create a document detailing a day by day itinerary of who will be here and when, who will spend the night, the food to prepare, etc. I include phone numbers, instructions regarding the dogs, remote controls and a chart to track the administration of her medications. Documents are distributed to all involved: Check.
The day arrives for our trip. DH and I have taken the day off work and CeCe has gone to school for the first few periods. DH is packing while I give Grandma a shower and do her hair (the grandsons requested NOT to have to give Grandma a bath... request granted). The closer we get to departure time, the less comfortable Grandma becomes with the whole idea.
A few days prior, when I had first told her about it, I sweetened the scenario - emphasizing that two of her grandsons, their wives and Grandma's only great-granddaughter would be coming to stay with her:
G: I don't know about all this.
Me: All what Mom?
G: You leaving me and all these people coming in here.
Me: What's to be worried about?
G: I just don't think I'm up to taking care of them....
Me: You don't have to take care of anyone, they are coming to take care of you.
G: Well, do they know where anything is or will I have to tell them?
Me: They'll figure it out.
So I knew she was slightly apprehensive. She has been reading over her copy of the itinerary, carefully making notes in the margins. I'm upstairs trying to finish packing when she calls to me.
G: Where are you?!
Me: Upstairs, what do you need?
G: What day is it?
Me: Friday, the 12th.
G: Come here for a minute...
I go down to find her with her itinerary.
G: What does this check mark mean?
Me: I don't know Mom - you tell me... you made the check mark.
G: Oh.
G: What should we do about this?
Me: About what?
G: This.... from JC Penney. (she is holding an ad from today's newspaper). These dates are the same as the ones on the schedule... the 12th through the 16th.
Me: Hmmm,interesting but just a coincidence.
G: What should we do about it?
Me: Nothing... I'm not planning to shop there.
G: So should I write 'no' on it?
Me: No, just throw it away....
G: Are you sure? I think we need to do something with it. (I look at the clock... it is nearing the time for us to leave)
Me: Here, give it to me, I'll take care of it. (She hands it to me and I take it and place it in the recyling bin)
I'm taking bags and provisions out to DH who is loading the car and again I hear my name - I return to the house to find Grandma in the kitchen.
G: There you are.
Me: What do you need Mom?
G: How does my hair look? Do you think it looks ok?
Me: Yes Mom, it looks great. I just did it - don't you remember?
G: Well yes, but I wasn't sure it looked good.
Me: It does.
Back to the car... DH informs me CeCe has texted and is done taking the test she would be missing later in the day. It's time to go. We go in to say good-bye. Grandma is standing there with her itinerary.
Me: OK Mom, we're leaving now... your lunch will be here soon and Ruby will be down after that. You can call us if you want, we'll see you on Tuesday... take care of the dogs!
G: Alright... I'm going to miss you.,,, (three sets of puppy dog eyes stare at me.)
We drive away and I Twitter, "Respite weekend begins." A few minutes later, the out of state son, who is coming to help, calls my cell.
Son: How was Grandma when you left?
Me: Sort of sad. Why don't you give her a call. (ie: relieve my guilt)
Son: OK, I will.
A short while later, I get a call back from the son.
Son: Well, I called Grandma and she is ecstatic.
Me: She is?
Son: Yes - she's so excited we're coming and can't wait to see us.....
Me: Really....
And so it is: Grandma's Respite (from us) begins.
So ends Episode 11
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Episode 10 - Large and In Charge
I am sure you have gathered from previous episodes, that Grandma (in her day) was a type A “in charge” kind of woman. Interestingly, my father was also a type A “in charge” sort of man. It is little wonder that, as their only offspring – I am decision challenged (I rarely got to make one) and the only “A” they passed onto me was my A positive blood type.
Grandma is sadly aware of her diminishing abilities to take charge of matters. She has surrendered her vehicle, stove, checkbook and now living quarters. She is usually resigned to accept our instructions, admonishment and counsel. It’s difficult for me too, as I remember the feisty, determined woman she was – even a short couple years ago. She would stand toe to toe with anyone and set them straight – while pointing her crooked, arthritic finger right in their face. Not so much anymore. Occasionally I can see that inner beast of hers wanting to come to the surface, but then she forgets what she wanted to say, or can’t find the right words to get it out. “Just never mind,” She spouts. It’s a great cover for her forgetfulness. (“I’ll just let them think I’m mad”).
With that said, I wish to report that every now and then – Grandma relapses into her former “in charge” self. I’m sure the dogs are accustomed to her mastery during their daytime hours with her. And who wouldn’t listen to someone who slips you part of her lunch every time the Meals on Wheels chow wagon comes by?
Grandma has assumed management of the living room. She maintains taut slip covers and winds up our computer cords daily. She comments to me that CeCe never puts her Snuggie away.
“Oh, CeCe plans to come back” I feign an excuse for her, “She likes to leave it out.” (Problem is, CeCe may not come back to this spot for a couple days). One night, as CeCe got up to go upstairs to her room, leaving the red Snuggie where she’d been, Grandma rolled her eyes at me.
“CeCe,” I said. “Would you please put your blanket away before you go to bed?” Now CeCe rolls her eyes at me and returns to retrieve the Snuggie.
As CeCe tosses the crumpled cover over the quilt rack, Grandma says, “You should fold it” (another eye roll from the young one). “I usually have to put it on the floor to get it folded right,” Grandma continues. I don’t doubt this for a minute (nor would anyone who has ever tried to fold one of these sleeved blankets). We obviously lack Grandma’s fortitude.
The other evening, DH and I left for the weekly meeting of our church small group. We’d be gone no longer than 2 hours and 15 minutes. Grandma usually retires about the time we leave, we told her we’d see her “in the morning”.
CeCe was home with her and later told us, every little while - Grandma would ask when we were going to be home or where we had gone.
“Bible Study Grandma. They’ll be home about 9”
As predicted, at 9:10 , we walked in the house from the garage, surprised to see Grandma standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Well there you are!” She huffed. “You left us alone… all by ourselves…. just the two of us. We didn’t know where you were. I thought you’d be home before now…. I finally got her to sleep.”
“Who?” I ask.
“In there…” Grandma motions to the living room where CeCe is reclined on the loveseat, sound asleep with the TV on (just like many other nights.)
“Mom, you aren’t CeCe’s babysitter” (I didn’t want to say that CeCe was hers) “She’s 15 – she babysits for other people’s kids. You didn’t need to stay up. Why didn’t you go to bed?”
“Well … I guess I will now..” and then mumble mumble mumble, as she goes down the stairs to her room.
The day is done. She's done her job. It's time for bed.
So ends Episode 10
Grandma is sadly aware of her diminishing abilities to take charge of matters. She has surrendered her vehicle, stove, checkbook and now living quarters. She is usually resigned to accept our instructions, admonishment and counsel. It’s difficult for me too, as I remember the feisty, determined woman she was – even a short couple years ago. She would stand toe to toe with anyone and set them straight – while pointing her crooked, arthritic finger right in their face. Not so much anymore. Occasionally I can see that inner beast of hers wanting to come to the surface, but then she forgets what she wanted to say, or can’t find the right words to get it out. “Just never mind,” She spouts. It’s a great cover for her forgetfulness. (“I’ll just let them think I’m mad”).
With that said, I wish to report that every now and then – Grandma relapses into her former “in charge” self. I’m sure the dogs are accustomed to her mastery during their daytime hours with her. And who wouldn’t listen to someone who slips you part of her lunch every time the Meals on Wheels chow wagon comes by?
Grandma has assumed management of the living room. She maintains taut slip covers and winds up our computer cords daily. She comments to me that CeCe never puts her Snuggie away.
“Oh, CeCe plans to come back” I feign an excuse for her, “She likes to leave it out.” (Problem is, CeCe may not come back to this spot for a couple days). One night, as CeCe got up to go upstairs to her room, leaving the red Snuggie where she’d been, Grandma rolled her eyes at me.
“CeCe,” I said. “Would you please put your blanket away before you go to bed?” Now CeCe rolls her eyes at me and returns to retrieve the Snuggie.
As CeCe tosses the crumpled cover over the quilt rack, Grandma says, “You should fold it” (another eye roll from the young one). “I usually have to put it on the floor to get it folded right,” Grandma continues. I don’t doubt this for a minute (nor would anyone who has ever tried to fold one of these sleeved blankets). We obviously lack Grandma’s fortitude.
The other evening, DH and I left for the weekly meeting of our church small group. We’d be gone no longer than 2 hours and 15 minutes. Grandma usually retires about the time we leave, we told her we’d see her “in the morning”.
CeCe was home with her and later told us, every little while - Grandma would ask when we were going to be home or where we had gone.
“Bible Study Grandma. They’ll be home about 9”
As predicted, at 9:10 , we walked in the house from the garage, surprised to see Grandma standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Well there you are!” She huffed. “You left us alone… all by ourselves…. just the two of us. We didn’t know where you were. I thought you’d be home before now…. I finally got her to sleep.”
“Who?” I ask.
“In there…” Grandma motions to the living room where CeCe is reclined on the loveseat, sound asleep with the TV on (just like many other nights.)
“Mom, you aren’t CeCe’s babysitter” (I didn’t want to say that CeCe was hers) “She’s 15 – she babysits for other people’s kids. You didn’t need to stay up. Why didn’t you go to bed?”
“Well … I guess I will now..” and then mumble mumble mumble, as she goes down the stairs to her room.
The day is done. She's done her job. It's time for bed.
So ends Episode 10
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Episode 9 - More Stuff...
This past week I made another couple trips back to D1. We now have about three weeks to get the rest of Grandma’s “stuff” out and the apartment cleaned. I know I’ve procrastinated in the effort, but it’s what I do.
I can spend as much time making a plan, as I can executing it. In this case, I planned to empty the contents of all the kitchen cupboards and drawers, storage and front closets into the now empty living room. I came bearing garbage bags. In the interest of time, I’ll merely note the highlights in this episode.
The first cupboard I opened revealed several plates, vases and five ceramic shrimp boats. What is a shrimp boat you ask? Well, it looks like a boat, says “SHRIMP” on the side and has a little separator inside so you can place shrimp cocktail in one portion and the sauce to dip it in, in the other. I recall these being stored in the living room cupboard in the house I grew up in. I do not recall them ever being used. How they survived three moves, I’ll never know.
One garbage bag was reserved for plastic recyclables. Grandma likes cottage cheese and fruit. Every week the past two years, when we would buy her groceries, we would get a couple 4-packs of various kinds of little fruit cups and a large container of cottage cheese. This was a staple in her diet, along with pot pies and frozen dinners. I opened one cupboard to find it filled to overflowing with all the empty containers… washed, nested and bagged. Dozens of black plastic microwaveable dishes… hundreds of fruit cups… not to mention the many containers (with corresponding lids in another bag). With a stockpile like this, you’d wonder why there’d be a need for Tupperware. Except….
Grandma used to sell Tupperware. Anyone who has ever been to a Tupperware party knows the multitude of specialty products they offer. Grandma had them all. I know she has purged some over the years (probably gave them to me) but the volume of burpable plastic was still huge. The best find of the day was tucked back behind some of those plastic containers when I ran across some large pastel tumblers – likely not the ones I grew up with, but identical. They put a smile on my face. I put them in the pile to take home.
And then there were her “good dishes”. I remember my Mom admiring a particular pattern of Franciscan dinnerware, simply named, “Apple”. Her best friend had the “Desert Rose” pattern and encouraged Mom to start her set. She would buy one place setting at a time and would ask for additional pieces at holiday or other gift-giving time. She amassed enough to amply serve our small family for special occasions. She would frequently comment about how much she loved those dishes (and matching glassware). One day her friend said, “If you like them so much, why do you only use them for special occasions? Use them every day.”
Mother was aghast, “Every day? My ‘good’ dishes?”
And so it was, that for the last three dozen years, Grandma enjoyed her good dishes, most of which survived their everyday duty. I again smile as I place them in the living room along with the other significant and not so significant items.
More cupboards, more “stuff”. The plastic bags her newspapers came wrapped in… neatly folded and clothes pinned in tidy groups…. an assortment of coffee mugs… cookware… more Tupperware. And then the food.
Two years ago, we took ‘stove cooking privileges’ away from Grandma. She only used her microwave. I should have gone through her cupboards then, but I didn’t. Now – I find boxes and packets of every kind of food item known to inhabit a kitchen. The cake mix closest to the front of the cupboard shows an expiration date of 2007. A fresh garbage bag becomes the receptacle for every item in the grocery cabinets except for a box of four small bottles of food coloring. I put them with the Tupperware tumblers.
DH and I returned a couple days later to box and bag up enough Goodwill donations to fill the backseat of the car. I vacillate between wanting to keep as many of her things as possible, to wanting to pitch it all (and then going home to pitch my ‘stuff’ as well.) I continue to remind myself that this process is part of life. We all collect… keep… sometime horde – so that someday, someone else has to sift through what we thought was so important and couldn’t throw out. I’m as guilty as her.
As we go to the car, I take stock of the full backseat and rejoice knowing the trunk (which contains what we’re taking into our house) has only a fraction of that amount. Of course, we’re far from done. There will be more trips to D1… more trips to Goodwill… more trash and more treasures… and hopefully more thought on my part the next time I have to choose to dispose of or keep something of my own!
So ends Episode 9
I can spend as much time making a plan, as I can executing it. In this case, I planned to empty the contents of all the kitchen cupboards and drawers, storage and front closets into the now empty living room. I came bearing garbage bags. In the interest of time, I’ll merely note the highlights in this episode.
The first cupboard I opened revealed several plates, vases and five ceramic shrimp boats. What is a shrimp boat you ask? Well, it looks like a boat, says “SHRIMP” on the side and has a little separator inside so you can place shrimp cocktail in one portion and the sauce to dip it in, in the other. I recall these being stored in the living room cupboard in the house I grew up in. I do not recall them ever being used. How they survived three moves, I’ll never know.
One garbage bag was reserved for plastic recyclables. Grandma likes cottage cheese and fruit. Every week the past two years, when we would buy her groceries, we would get a couple 4-packs of various kinds of little fruit cups and a large container of cottage cheese. This was a staple in her diet, along with pot pies and frozen dinners. I opened one cupboard to find it filled to overflowing with all the empty containers… washed, nested and bagged. Dozens of black plastic microwaveable dishes… hundreds of fruit cups… not to mention the many containers (with corresponding lids in another bag). With a stockpile like this, you’d wonder why there’d be a need for Tupperware. Except….
Grandma used to sell Tupperware. Anyone who has ever been to a Tupperware party knows the multitude of specialty products they offer. Grandma had them all. I know she has purged some over the years (probably gave them to me) but the volume of burpable plastic was still huge. The best find of the day was tucked back behind some of those plastic containers when I ran across some large pastel tumblers – likely not the ones I grew up with, but identical. They put a smile on my face. I put them in the pile to take home.
And then there were her “good dishes”. I remember my Mom admiring a particular pattern of Franciscan dinnerware, simply named, “Apple”. Her best friend had the “Desert Rose” pattern and encouraged Mom to start her set. She would buy one place setting at a time and would ask for additional pieces at holiday or other gift-giving time. She amassed enough to amply serve our small family for special occasions. She would frequently comment about how much she loved those dishes (and matching glassware). One day her friend said, “If you like them so much, why do you only use them for special occasions? Use them every day.”
Mother was aghast, “Every day? My ‘good’ dishes?”
And so it was, that for the last three dozen years, Grandma enjoyed her good dishes, most of which survived their everyday duty. I again smile as I place them in the living room along with the other significant and not so significant items.
More cupboards, more “stuff”. The plastic bags her newspapers came wrapped in… neatly folded and clothes pinned in tidy groups…. an assortment of coffee mugs… cookware… more Tupperware. And then the food.
Two years ago, we took ‘stove cooking privileges’ away from Grandma. She only used her microwave. I should have gone through her cupboards then, but I didn’t. Now – I find boxes and packets of every kind of food item known to inhabit a kitchen. The cake mix closest to the front of the cupboard shows an expiration date of 2007. A fresh garbage bag becomes the receptacle for every item in the grocery cabinets except for a box of four small bottles of food coloring. I put them with the Tupperware tumblers.
DH and I returned a couple days later to box and bag up enough Goodwill donations to fill the backseat of the car. I vacillate between wanting to keep as many of her things as possible, to wanting to pitch it all (and then going home to pitch my ‘stuff’ as well.) I continue to remind myself that this process is part of life. We all collect… keep… sometime horde – so that someday, someone else has to sift through what we thought was so important and couldn’t throw out. I’m as guilty as her.
As we go to the car, I take stock of the full backseat and rejoice knowing the trunk (which contains what we’re taking into our house) has only a fraction of that amount. Of course, we’re far from done. There will be more trips to D1… more trips to Goodwill… more trash and more treasures… and hopefully more thought on my part the next time I have to choose to dispose of or keep something of my own!
So ends Episode 9
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Episode 8 - Reality Check
When Grandma lived on her own in D1, I would immediately and emphatically correct her if she got mixed up or confused about something. I didn’t do so to be cruel or because I lacked compassion. I did it because she was living independently, I needed to know she was dealing with, and in reality. Since moving here – she has had more than a few moments of confusion and I gently set her straight. Occasionally she gets way off track, but I know it’s a short trip and she’ll be back on course soon. My response to those episodes is often just to let her talk it through.
Grandma’s mindset is still “complex” oriented, in the senior housing sense of the word. She talks about “our people here” to which we say there’s just the four of us. A few times she has mentioned the "other tenant" in the basement.
“No Mom, there’s no one there but you.”
“Well, she was there when I moved in, because I heard her.”
Last night she asked me, “What is the number of your unit?”
We sleep upstairs, so I thoughtfully responded “I guess that’d be 2A.” She seemed satisfied, but DH told me later I was probably reinforcing her “complex” confusion. I somehow doubt that since she forgets simple conversation easily. Thankfully, these kind of moments of confusion aren’t frequent.
Her memories from long ago seem intact. She talks a lot about my Dad (who died 29 years ago). Over the weekend, she was telling two of my daughters-in-law about how she and Grandpa used to like to dance around the kitchen table. Grandma was smiling at the memory. The girls shared her delight and one asked teasingly, “What else did you and Grandpa do on the dining room table, Grandma?”
“No. Not the dining room – that had carpet. We danced in the kitchen.”
A couple days later, Grandma is telling DH and I about how Dad (her DH) talks to her. She shared bits of their conversations and how he has assured her things are going to be alright and how I will take care of her. DH politely tells Grandma, “I know it might seem real, but he’s been dead for many years and can’t really talk to you. You were just dreaming.”
Grandma looked at him blankly and I shot DH a “look” he will likely long remember. I then told Mom that Dad was right. Things are as they should be and we are going to take care of her. I later told DH if Grandma wants to talk to her dead husband(s) or any other dead friends, we should let her (as long as they don’t stay for supper, I’m thinking….) I want her to safe and happy. I won’t feed her fantasies (“So Mom,what’s Dad had to say lately?”) but I won’t dash them either. I can’t count the number of times in the past three decades I’ve wanted my Dad to talk to me and tell me “everything was going to be alright”. What comfort that would have been.
Sweet dreams Mom…
So ends Episode 8
Grandma’s mindset is still “complex” oriented, in the senior housing sense of the word. She talks about “our people here” to which we say there’s just the four of us. A few times she has mentioned the "other tenant" in the basement.
“No Mom, there’s no one there but you.”
“Well, she was there when I moved in, because I heard her.”
Last night she asked me, “What is the number of your unit?”
We sleep upstairs, so I thoughtfully responded “I guess that’d be 2A.” She seemed satisfied, but DH told me later I was probably reinforcing her “complex” confusion. I somehow doubt that since she forgets simple conversation easily. Thankfully, these kind of moments of confusion aren’t frequent.
Her memories from long ago seem intact. She talks a lot about my Dad (who died 29 years ago). Over the weekend, she was telling two of my daughters-in-law about how she and Grandpa used to like to dance around the kitchen table. Grandma was smiling at the memory. The girls shared her delight and one asked teasingly, “What else did you and Grandpa do on the dining room table, Grandma?”
“No. Not the dining room – that had carpet. We danced in the kitchen.”
A couple days later, Grandma is telling DH and I about how Dad (her DH) talks to her. She shared bits of their conversations and how he has assured her things are going to be alright and how I will take care of her. DH politely tells Grandma, “I know it might seem real, but he’s been dead for many years and can’t really talk to you. You were just dreaming.”
Grandma looked at him blankly and I shot DH a “look” he will likely long remember. I then told Mom that Dad was right. Things are as they should be and we are going to take care of her. I later told DH if Grandma wants to talk to her dead husband(s) or any other dead friends, we should let her (as long as they don’t stay for supper, I’m thinking….) I want her to safe and happy. I won’t feed her fantasies (“So Mom,what’s Dad had to say lately?”) but I won’t dash them either. I can’t count the number of times in the past three decades I’ve wanted my Dad to talk to me and tell me “everything was going to be alright”. What comfort that would have been.
Sweet dreams Mom…
So ends Episode 8
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