I have seen many Neighborhood Watch signs posted along the streets of various towns and cities, but admittedly do not know much about the program. I would guess the signs are a warning to would be vandals and thieves, that the area they are encroaching upon is not the habitat for sitting ducks. Those living there are interdependent upon one another, for the well being of their homes and property. I imagine the residents of these Watch zones are trained somehow in what things to observe, as well as oddities to look for. They likely know what vehicles are parked regularly at the homes in their precinct and have one another’s phones on speed dial. It actually sounds pretty comforting to think that whether you are home or away, your place is under a watchful eye.
Our street has no Neighborhood Watch signs. In fact, I wouldn’t know many of the folks who live on my street, if I were to run into them at the grocery store. We may wave or say hello while out working in our yards, but nothing more. I might chat with the people who live on either side of our house, but no further.
And then came Grandma….
Since moving to our house, she has made it her business to know about other people’s business. Her chair sits right in front of a living room window, giving her full access to the happenings on our street. She keeps track of traffic, cars, dogs and sidewalks that are in need of repair. She enjoys the antics of the little boys next door as they play in their yard... reporting to us their fun or frustration. Some of her observations can make me cringe: “That fat lady over there sure has a cute little dog.” (I pray if they ever meet face to face Grandma forgets the NutriSystems commercial). Oh, and she simply marvels at the large dogs on the other side of us, who never venture from their yard.
G: My, those dogs are well trained. They don’t have a fence or anything. They bark, but they never leave the yard.
Me: They have an invisible fence.
G: A what?
Me: An invisible fence. It’s buried around their property and the dogs are trained by wearing special collars. If they cross the invisible line, they get a shock or something. They’re eventually trained not to cross the line, whether they have on the collar or not.
G: I’ve never heard of such a thing.
Me: Well, now you have… and you’d better not force us to get one….
G: … You mean for me?
Me: Just kidding Mom.
When Grandma lived in D1 – she was within hollering distance of dozens of people. The mailboxes (for everyone in the complex) were ten steps from her front door…. and the laundry room (for half the tenants) was right next to her apartment. People were coming and going, past her door throughout the day. Most everyone knew what was going on with everyone else. It was sort of a little campus. Grandma had her tan plastic lawn chairs sitting in a neat row outside D1. She would occupy one and the others provided a place for rest and conversation to anyone who wanted sit for a spell.
The tan chairs are on our front porch now. They are familiar fixtures on the face of a new springtime. The longer daylight and warmer weather offer us more opportunities to be outside and maybe even to get to know more of our neighbors. I'm sure they will all get to recognize Grandma... a One Woman Neighborhood Watch!
So ends Episode 23
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Episode 22 – Out of the Closet
Twice each year, I go through my clothes closet, switching one season's clothing for another. I took a couple hours this past Friday to start the process.
Grandma was engrossed in her game shows when I quietly arrived home. I told her I'd be upstairs if she needed me. Half way through the Capri pants, I heard the doorbell ring. Since I was in a state of mid-undress (from trying on clothes to determine their current fit level) I listened from the top of the stairway as Grandma went to the door.
At the door was a young man in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. He appeared to be in his early 20's. His hair rested on his shoulders and had a green streak in the bangs that hung over one eye. I couldn't hear their exchange of words but when Grandma said, "Why don't you step in?" I quickly threw on my jeans and sweatshirt.
I then heard Grandma's voice
G: Are you up there?
Me: Yes, I'll be right down.
G: There's someone here I need you to talk to.
I start down the stair steps as Grandma continues talking to me.
G: I want you to hear what this lady has to say. I told her you'd have to make the decision so she might as well only tell us once. Here.
The look of the guy's face was priceless. I stop mid-staircase and reach for the pink piece of paper Grandma is extending to me. I scan it quickly and see the word “Kirby”. Uh boy. An entirely different blog could be written about me and a variety of experiences with Kirby sales ’men’. S/he avoids Grandma’s eye and speaks to me.
Kirby Guy: We’re in the area and would like to shampoo your carpet. There’s no cost to you, it is for advertising purposes. What do you consider the area of your house with the most traffic?
I was tempted to say, “Grandma’s path up and down the basement steps” – however, I refrained.
Me: Actually, my husband and I just shampooed our entire house a few months ago [which was the honest truth] … so we’re not interested but thanks for stopping.
I have a feeling he was more relieved than disappointed. I handed him back his pink paper and out the door he went.
G: So she was going to clean your carpet? For free?
Me: No, he wanted to sell me the shampooer and it wasn’t a woman Mom… it was a guy.
G: You’re kidding. Looked like a woman to me. (Obviously)
Me: That’s OK – I’m sure it was the hair… (couldn’t have been his flat chest)… but you really shouldn’t let anyone in the house.
G: OK… but she had me fooled.
I return to the closet and Grandma to her chair.
Two days and one closet later, I am knee deep in piles of clothing. This particular closet has not been cleaned out in probably four years. … coats, graduation gowns, costumes, clothes that don’t fit, clothes someone didn’t like (I’m sure you’ve been there). Off season here, Goodwill there … kid’s dress up play clothes here… needs washing there… I’m drowning in piles and now regret the decision I’d made to go deeper into the abyss. I took a break.
As I settled into my recliner, DH handed me the remote… I scanned the DVR for something to watch. Fifteen minutes into the program, CeCe comes downstairs and wants her hair colored. I tell her to mix up the color and I’ll be right there. A few minutes later, I’m up to my elbows in hair dye, when Grandma comes into the kitchen.
G: Wow, what are you doing?
Me: Coloring CeCe’s hair. Does this look familiar to you Mom? (I say with a smile)
G: No…
Me: It should… you used to color my hair just like this…. (for years!)
G: Nope … I don’t remember.
CeCe had to wait 45 minutes to wash the dye out and I decided to seize the moment.
Me: Mom, you didn’t feel well yesterday so we didn’t do your shower… Let’s do it now.
G: Right now? I don’t think I feel like it.
Me: You never feel like it – let’s go.
We went through our usual shower routine (which we’re getting faster at all the time). When I had her hair dry and styled, I opened the bathroom door and directed her to the stairs. From this perspective, she got her first view of my open bedroom door and the clothes and chaos therein, extending into the hallway.
G: Wow… is she moving in or out?
Remember, sometimes Grandma thinks we all live in a complex.
Me: It’s all mine Mom… and I live here. I’m not going anywhere.
There are days I’d maybe like to… but for now, I’ll be content with clean closets.
So ends Episode 22.
Grandma was engrossed in her game shows when I quietly arrived home. I told her I'd be upstairs if she needed me. Half way through the Capri pants, I heard the doorbell ring. Since I was in a state of mid-undress (from trying on clothes to determine their current fit level) I listened from the top of the stairway as Grandma went to the door.
At the door was a young man in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. He appeared to be in his early 20's. His hair rested on his shoulders and had a green streak in the bangs that hung over one eye. I couldn't hear their exchange of words but when Grandma said, "Why don't you step in?" I quickly threw on my jeans and sweatshirt.
I then heard Grandma's voice
G: Are you up there?
Me: Yes, I'll be right down.
G: There's someone here I need you to talk to.
I start down the stair steps as Grandma continues talking to me.
G: I want you to hear what this lady has to say. I told her you'd have to make the decision so she might as well only tell us once. Here.
The look of the guy's face was priceless. I stop mid-staircase and reach for the pink piece of paper Grandma is extending to me. I scan it quickly and see the word “Kirby”. Uh boy. An entirely different blog could be written about me and a variety of experiences with Kirby sales ’men’. S/he avoids Grandma’s eye and speaks to me.
Kirby Guy: We’re in the area and would like to shampoo your carpet. There’s no cost to you, it is for advertising purposes. What do you consider the area of your house with the most traffic?
I was tempted to say, “Grandma’s path up and down the basement steps” – however, I refrained.
Me: Actually, my husband and I just shampooed our entire house a few months ago [which was the honest truth] … so we’re not interested but thanks for stopping.
I have a feeling he was more relieved than disappointed. I handed him back his pink paper and out the door he went.
G: So she was going to clean your carpet? For free?
Me: No, he wanted to sell me the shampooer and it wasn’t a woman Mom… it was a guy.
G: You’re kidding. Looked like a woman to me. (Obviously)
Me: That’s OK – I’m sure it was the hair… (couldn’t have been his flat chest)… but you really shouldn’t let anyone in the house.
G: OK… but she had me fooled.
I return to the closet and Grandma to her chair.
Two days and one closet later, I am knee deep in piles of clothing. This particular closet has not been cleaned out in probably four years. … coats, graduation gowns, costumes, clothes that don’t fit, clothes someone didn’t like (I’m sure you’ve been there). Off season here, Goodwill there … kid’s dress up play clothes here… needs washing there… I’m drowning in piles and now regret the decision I’d made to go deeper into the abyss. I took a break.
As I settled into my recliner, DH handed me the remote… I scanned the DVR for something to watch. Fifteen minutes into the program, CeCe comes downstairs and wants her hair colored. I tell her to mix up the color and I’ll be right there. A few minutes later, I’m up to my elbows in hair dye, when Grandma comes into the kitchen.
G: Wow, what are you doing?
Me: Coloring CeCe’s hair. Does this look familiar to you Mom? (I say with a smile)
G: No…
Me: It should… you used to color my hair just like this…. (for years!)
G: Nope … I don’t remember.
CeCe had to wait 45 minutes to wash the dye out and I decided to seize the moment.
Me: Mom, you didn’t feel well yesterday so we didn’t do your shower… Let’s do it now.
G: Right now? I don’t think I feel like it.
Me: You never feel like it – let’s go.
We went through our usual shower routine (which we’re getting faster at all the time). When I had her hair dry and styled, I opened the bathroom door and directed her to the stairs. From this perspective, she got her first view of my open bedroom door and the clothes and chaos therein, extending into the hallway.
G: Wow… is she moving in or out?
Remember, sometimes Grandma thinks we all live in a complex.
Me: It’s all mine Mom… and I live here. I’m not going anywhere.
There are days I’d maybe like to… but for now, I’ll be content with clean closets.
So ends Episode 22.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Episode 21 - Sammy Say-So
I grew up in a home where cussing was commonplace …. nothing vulgar – but the typical profanity and yes, the Lord’s name taken in vain. My father was a big, rough kind of guy and swearing was part of who he was. Mom cussed too, but to a lesser degree – and both could “abstain” from the bad words depending on who was around. I always understood those were not words I was to use… and I have a vivid memory of getting in trouble once, for saying hell. I was probably 7 or 8 years old when Mom told me to do something. I must have doubted my ability to complete the task and ended (or so I thought) the conversation with: “Well okay, but don’t give me hell if I don’t do it right.” Uh oh… that was one of the forbidden words and it had come out of my mouth! Trouble followed and I don’t recall (for many years) using salty (thus, soapy) language.
My children were raised (for the most part) in a ‘cuss-free home’. If a bad word was uttered, it was either under one’s breath or loud enough to make everyone run for cover. In either case, it was rare. Even the kids’ friends watched what they’d say when visiting and apologize if they swore. It wasn't like we posted signs prohibiting the use of certain words, it was just understood I guess.
Grandma has mellowed in her old age. I cannot remember her taking the Lord’s name in vain in years, although she has said a few times (when frustrated with her waning strength and stamina) “I’m not worth a damn.” (Remember, Grandma’s self-worth has always been rooted in what she can and can’t do.) Far be it from me to chastise her – all I can do is say “I’m sorry.” For all she can’t remember… she definitely can remember, all she could accomplish before old age stripped her of the satisfaction that comes with a difficult job, done well. That’s hard.
There’s one other phrase that Grandma has resumed using, which I hadn’t heard her say in a long while. The first occurrence (in our home) was a month or so ago when our son and 3 year old grandson were visiting. Grandma couldn’t find something and out of the blue says, “I don’t know where the Sam Hell it is.” (Shocked looks and concealed grins abound) No one says anything and I pray silently that the grandson hasn’t picked up on it … only to later give his mother or other grandparents, heart attacks by asking “Where the Sam Hell is my sippy cup?”
A few days later, we had another “Where the Sam Hell” utterance to which I said to Grandma, “I don’t know where you put it … and it’s Sam HILL … get it right.” This time it was NanaMama who got the shocked looks from everyone. “I Googled it,” I told them. (Sam Hill was a farmer and unsuccessful politician in 19th century New England … but I kept the History lesson to myself.)
At this point in the game, I’m choosing my battles. Whenever Grandma says “Sam Hell” – I reiterate “Sam Hill” …. If his is the only name she takes in vain… I sure as Sam Hill don’t care.
So ends Episode 21
My children were raised (for the most part) in a ‘cuss-free home’. If a bad word was uttered, it was either under one’s breath or loud enough to make everyone run for cover. In either case, it was rare. Even the kids’ friends watched what they’d say when visiting and apologize if they swore. It wasn't like we posted signs prohibiting the use of certain words, it was just understood I guess.
Grandma has mellowed in her old age. I cannot remember her taking the Lord’s name in vain in years, although she has said a few times (when frustrated with her waning strength and stamina) “I’m not worth a damn.” (Remember, Grandma’s self-worth has always been rooted in what she can and can’t do.) Far be it from me to chastise her – all I can do is say “I’m sorry.” For all she can’t remember… she definitely can remember, all she could accomplish before old age stripped her of the satisfaction that comes with a difficult job, done well. That’s hard.
There’s one other phrase that Grandma has resumed using, which I hadn’t heard her say in a long while. The first occurrence (in our home) was a month or so ago when our son and 3 year old grandson were visiting. Grandma couldn’t find something and out of the blue says, “I don’t know where the Sam Hell it is.” (Shocked looks and concealed grins abound) No one says anything and I pray silently that the grandson hasn’t picked up on it … only to later give his mother or other grandparents, heart attacks by asking “Where the Sam Hell is my sippy cup?”
A few days later, we had another “Where the Sam Hell” utterance to which I said to Grandma, “I don’t know where you put it … and it’s Sam HILL … get it right.” This time it was NanaMama who got the shocked looks from everyone. “I Googled it,” I told them. (Sam Hill was a farmer and unsuccessful politician in 19th century New England … but I kept the History lesson to myself.)
At this point in the game, I’m choosing my battles. Whenever Grandma says “Sam Hell” – I reiterate “Sam Hill” …. If his is the only name she takes in vain… I sure as Sam Hill don’t care.
So ends Episode 21
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Episode 20 - Happy Birthday Grandma
Today is Grandma's 85th birthday. It's been a wonderful day of quiet celebration. I put a birthday announcement in our local newspaper and shopper a week ago - so she's been receiving cards for several days. She slices each envelope open with a steak knife... reads aloud the verse on the card, any personal note - and the sender's name. Sometimes she shares a memory of the person ... and sometimes she has difficulty recollecting them - but always, she is happy to receive the good wishes. She found a plastic container to store her cards in ... keeping each envelope and its card together. I found it a bit cumbersome to look at the cards that way, so I took them out and put a rubber band around the envelopes, keeping the cards in the plastic holder. I placed the banded envelopes near the cards by her chair. A day later, the cards (and there were many) were once again reunited with their respective envelopes, back in the container.
We asked Grandma several times what she wanted to do for her birthday.
G: I don't know.
Me: Do you want to go out to eat?
G: Not really.
Me: Do you want to go somewhere special?
G: I don't think so.
Me: Well it's still a few days away, you can think about it.
One day DH remarked (as she showed him the cards she'd received that day), "You'll probably get a lot of cards this week."
G: Why? My birthday is over.
DH: No it isn't, it's next Sunday.
G: No, it was the 18th.
DH: I know, that's next Sunday.
Again (Friday) I asked if she'd decided what she wanted to do for her birthday.
G: Oh, I've been thinking but I don't know of anything.
Me: OK, keep thinking.
Two minutes later (maybe less) she asks:
G: So do we have any plans this weekend?
Me: Not yet, but I'm trying.
Yesterday she got flowers. She was thrilled. The woman delivering them for the flower shop was from our hometown. When she found out it was Grandma's birthday, she mentioned her own mother (who Mom knows). "Well tell her thank you.... these are beautiful."
"No - they aren't from my mother..."
"Oh ... then they are from you - that was so sweet of you..."
"No, no - I'm just delivering them"
"Then who are they from?"
"I don't know..."
I finally step in to rescue the poor delivery gal.
Me: Mom, it's a surprise. You need to open the card. She just brought them to you from the flower shop.
G: Oh - well thank you anyway.
I bet she shook her head all the way back to her van!
As we sat down to lunch Grandma commented that she couldn't believe she was 85 years old. She said she wanted to call her mother this morning and when she went to use the phone, she realized....
Yeah, Grandma's been gone for a long time (like 45 years). It just doesn't seem possible Grandma continued.
The day has been good. She finally decided she wanted one of those delicious chicken sandwiches (Thank you SUBWAY) and cherry angel food cake we'll have later. One grandson and his family joined us for lunch which she enjoyed greatly. The other grandsons called her on the phone which made her day.
Although I bought her a couple small gifts... I think the highlight of Mom's day was when I gave her a pedicure.
G: I've never had anything done like this before....
And for once I was able to honestly say,
Me: No Mom, you never have.
Usually when she says this about something - it's because she can't remember. But the bubbling footbath was a first and the bright red nail polish now adorning her toesies made for a special birthday treat. A short while ago, Grandma made mention of the experience.
G: Who gave me the towel for my birthday?
DH: You didn't get a towel for your birthday.
G: Yes, it's over there (motioning to her other gifts) I had it when you put my feet in the boiling water.
Me: It wasn't boiling Mom - it was just hot.
DH: We wouldn't put your feet in boiling water, that would hurt.
G: Well, it was bubbling.
This, my friends, is how rumors get started.
I don't think I have 85 candles lying around here (or room on the cake to put them).... no matter how many she blows out, I think she'd say she's gotten most of her birthday wishes.
Birthday Blessings Grandma!
So ends Episode 20
We asked Grandma several times what she wanted to do for her birthday.
G: I don't know.
Me: Do you want to go out to eat?
G: Not really.
Me: Do you want to go somewhere special?
G: I don't think so.
Me: Well it's still a few days away, you can think about it.
One day DH remarked (as she showed him the cards she'd received that day), "You'll probably get a lot of cards this week."
G: Why? My birthday is over.
DH: No it isn't, it's next Sunday.
G: No, it was the 18th.
DH: I know, that's next Sunday.
Again (Friday) I asked if she'd decided what she wanted to do for her birthday.
G: Oh, I've been thinking but I don't know of anything.
Me: OK, keep thinking.
Two minutes later (maybe less) she asks:
G: So do we have any plans this weekend?
Me: Not yet, but I'm trying.
Yesterday she got flowers. She was thrilled. The woman delivering them for the flower shop was from our hometown. When she found out it was Grandma's birthday, she mentioned her own mother (who Mom knows). "Well tell her thank you.... these are beautiful."
"No - they aren't from my mother..."
"Oh ... then they are from you - that was so sweet of you..."
"No, no - I'm just delivering them"
"Then who are they from?"
"I don't know..."
I finally step in to rescue the poor delivery gal.
Me: Mom, it's a surprise. You need to open the card. She just brought them to you from the flower shop.
G: Oh - well thank you anyway.
I bet she shook her head all the way back to her van!
As we sat down to lunch Grandma commented that she couldn't believe she was 85 years old. She said she wanted to call her mother this morning and when she went to use the phone, she realized....
Yeah, Grandma's been gone for a long time (like 45 years). It just doesn't seem possible Grandma continued.
The day has been good. She finally decided she wanted one of those delicious chicken sandwiches (Thank you SUBWAY) and cherry angel food cake we'll have later. One grandson and his family joined us for lunch which she enjoyed greatly. The other grandsons called her on the phone which made her day.
Although I bought her a couple small gifts... I think the highlight of Mom's day was when I gave her a pedicure.
G: I've never had anything done like this before....
And for once I was able to honestly say,
Me: No Mom, you never have.
Usually when she says this about something - it's because she can't remember. But the bubbling footbath was a first and the bright red nail polish now adorning her toesies made for a special birthday treat. A short while ago, Grandma made mention of the experience.
G: Who gave me the towel for my birthday?
DH: You didn't get a towel for your birthday.
G: Yes, it's over there (motioning to her other gifts) I had it when you put my feet in the boiling water.
Me: It wasn't boiling Mom - it was just hot.
DH: We wouldn't put your feet in boiling water, that would hurt.
G: Well, it was bubbling.
This, my friends, is how rumors get started.
I don't think I have 85 candles lying around here (or room on the cake to put them).... no matter how many she blows out, I think she'd say she's gotten most of her birthday wishes.
Birthday Blessings Grandma!
So ends Episode 20
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Episode 19 - Out of the Mouths... of Grandmas
Grandma, DH and I have been watching the Masters Golf Tournament this weekend. Grandma used to golf in her day and especially enjoys watching the pros on TV. Earlier in the week, she saw an advertisement (on GSN) for a motorized scooter - what better market to cater to, than those who watch game shows all day? (ie: the elderly) Our son who has been here for Spring Break texted me and said "Grandma is looking in the phone book for a scooter store". By the time I got home from work, she was expounding on the merits of a scooter and how she was thinking about getting one. I discouraged the idea and admit I'm a little nervous in that we brought our motorized golf cart home from storage today. It's parked along side our house, out of her sight for now... but I'm not looking forward to the day she discovers it. It could be interesting... she also told our son she needs to get back to the senior complex as she has a golf date with a friend there. Can we say "hide the keys"?
On my list of things to do this weekend, was cleaning the refrigerator - not my favorite job, so one I put off as long as possible (or longer). Grandma had made reference to the frightful state of the fridge several times lately ... so right after breakfast Saturday morning, I announced to Grandma that I was going to clean the refrigerator and she was going to help me. There appeared a slightly shocked look on her face but I told her she could do it from a seated position at the island. Her job was to throw gross things into the trash, and clean plastics into the box I had for recycleables. For the most part, she refrained from commenting on my procrastination and therefore, waste. I typically wash the glass shelves in the bathtub... it's large enough to hold them all and easy to rinse the soap off when I'm done. I put Grandma in charge of drying the shelves before they were put back. We were buzzing right along when I noticed.... she was singing. The woman was happy. I need to keep her busy, I decide... but by the time the refrigerator was done... so was Grandma. She had only enough energy to get through her shower and settle into her chair for some "pre-recorded" (by DH) musical programs on TV. I turned on The Gaithers, Lawrence Welk and Guy Lombardo and continued my work while she watched, sang and lamented she no longer had a dance partner. I remind her that her body is not really in dance condition anymore but it was wonderful to have such nice memories.
Later in the day, after I finished all the work I had planned to do ... I showered and joined Grandma in front of the TV set . We chose case numbers on Deal or No Deal and audience responses on Family Feud... things were going well... until.... "We'll be right back after this word from our sponsor..."
My pleasant Saturday afternoon was about to take a turn... a commercial comes on for NutriSystems. Some skinny chick is shown on a split screen next to a "before" picture showing her 40 or 50 pounds heavier. We've all seen them. And for a nominal fee (plus the cost of food) anyone can shed their own unwanted weight.
G: Have you ever looked into that?
Me: Into what?
G: That - (pointing to the television)
Me: That?! (hoping she was suggesting I be a contestant on a game show...)
G: For your weight... have you looked into that?
Me: Uh no... no I haven't.
G: Oh, I just wondered. It looks like it worked for them.
So there you have it - how a productive, relaxing day can be struck down in its prime and an entire weekend dampened.
Out of the mouths .... of Grandmas.
So ends Episode 19.
On my list of things to do this weekend, was cleaning the refrigerator - not my favorite job, so one I put off as long as possible (or longer). Grandma had made reference to the frightful state of the fridge several times lately ... so right after breakfast Saturday morning, I announced to Grandma that I was going to clean the refrigerator and she was going to help me. There appeared a slightly shocked look on her face but I told her she could do it from a seated position at the island. Her job was to throw gross things into the trash, and clean plastics into the box I had for recycleables. For the most part, she refrained from commenting on my procrastination and therefore, waste. I typically wash the glass shelves in the bathtub... it's large enough to hold them all and easy to rinse the soap off when I'm done. I put Grandma in charge of drying the shelves before they were put back. We were buzzing right along when I noticed.... she was singing. The woman was happy. I need to keep her busy, I decide... but by the time the refrigerator was done... so was Grandma. She had only enough energy to get through her shower and settle into her chair for some "pre-recorded" (by DH) musical programs on TV. I turned on The Gaithers, Lawrence Welk and Guy Lombardo and continued my work while she watched, sang and lamented she no longer had a dance partner. I remind her that her body is not really in dance condition anymore but it was wonderful to have such nice memories.
Later in the day, after I finished all the work I had planned to do ... I showered and joined Grandma in front of the TV set . We chose case numbers on Deal or No Deal and audience responses on Family Feud... things were going well... until.... "We'll be right back after this word from our sponsor..."
My pleasant Saturday afternoon was about to take a turn... a commercial comes on for NutriSystems. Some skinny chick is shown on a split screen next to a "before" picture showing her 40 or 50 pounds heavier. We've all seen them. And for a nominal fee (plus the cost of food) anyone can shed their own unwanted weight.
G: Have you ever looked into that?
Me: Into what?
G: That - (pointing to the television)
Me: That?! (hoping she was suggesting I be a contestant on a game show...)
G: For your weight... have you looked into that?
Me: Uh no... no I haven't.
G: Oh, I just wondered. It looks like it worked for them.
So there you have it - how a productive, relaxing day can be struck down in its prime and an entire weekend dampened.
Out of the mouths .... of Grandmas.
So ends Episode 19.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Episode 18 - Celebrity Sightings
We enjoyed Easter with our son's family, at their home a half hour from where we live. Grandma went with us and had a wonderful time, visiting, eating and watching Baby's first egg hunt. As enjoyable as the day was - it was not without cost. Grandma's confusion seemed much greater after we returned home. It eerily reminded me of Easter two years ago when we had our first encounter with Grandma's delusions. Shortly after returning home from our house on Easter 2008, she called me and said she needed to get the rent paid on "the other apartment."
Me: What other apartment?
G: The one I've been staying in.
Me: You only have one apartment Mom.
G: Well, only one here, but I have another one I stay at sometimes.
Needless to say, Mom had only ONE apartment. The confusion was short term but the days following involved evaluations and some tough decisions. Although she could no longer drive or use the stove, she was still able to live independently and we dealt with the occasional phantom apartment or similar illusions. One thing we noticed was any time spent away from her apartment resulted in manic confused episodes.
So while watching golf on television this past Easter Sunday, Grandma began talking (to DH and the grand kids) as if we were all at a country club.... (and she had a membership). This could be due in part to the televised tournament or the large glass windows looking out onto a spacious backyard (laden now with plastic eggs). No one minded her little fantasy until my absence was noticed (I was out hiding eggs). "Where's NanaMama?"
G: Oh, she went downstairs with Tiger.
That sent the son, whose country club/home we were at, straight outside to report to me. "Mom... she thinks you're downstairs with Tiger Woods!" That's just great. Like I don't have enough problems without being one of Tiger's women. Time to go home.
The week has had more than its usual share of "they tell me...." moments. She tells us something - we say it isn't correct - she responds with "that's what they tell me..."
"Who is they?"
"I don't remember..."
While watching American Idol this week with Grandma and one of the sons, the camera does a close up of Ellen DeGeneres.
G: I know her..
Son: Yeah, that's Ellen.
G: Yes. She lives here you know...
Son: Where? Who?
G: Ellen. She lives in town here - has for many years.
NM: No Mom, you see her on TV. She doesn't live here.
G: Does too.
Son: Grandma, I'm positive Ellen does not live around here.
G: Well I'm not going to argue with you about it.
I think it will be a while before we venture away from home with her again. It's too hard on all of us. In the meantime, please squelch any rumors you might hear about me and Tiger... and if you happen to run into Ellen... tell her Grandma says hello!
So ends Episode 18
Me: What other apartment?
G: The one I've been staying in.
Me: You only have one apartment Mom.
G: Well, only one here, but I have another one I stay at sometimes.
Needless to say, Mom had only ONE apartment. The confusion was short term but the days following involved evaluations and some tough decisions. Although she could no longer drive or use the stove, she was still able to live independently and we dealt with the occasional phantom apartment or similar illusions. One thing we noticed was any time spent away from her apartment resulted in manic confused episodes.
So while watching golf on television this past Easter Sunday, Grandma began talking (to DH and the grand kids) as if we were all at a country club.... (and she had a membership). This could be due in part to the televised tournament or the large glass windows looking out onto a spacious backyard (laden now with plastic eggs). No one minded her little fantasy until my absence was noticed (I was out hiding eggs). "Where's NanaMama?"
G: Oh, she went downstairs with Tiger.
That sent the son, whose country club/home we were at, straight outside to report to me. "Mom... she thinks you're downstairs with Tiger Woods!" That's just great. Like I don't have enough problems without being one of Tiger's women. Time to go home.
The week has had more than its usual share of "they tell me...." moments. She tells us something - we say it isn't correct - she responds with "that's what they tell me..."
"Who is they?"
"I don't remember..."
While watching American Idol this week with Grandma and one of the sons, the camera does a close up of Ellen DeGeneres.
G: I know her..
Son: Yeah, that's Ellen.
G: Yes. She lives here you know...
Son: Where? Who?
G: Ellen. She lives in town here - has for many years.
NM: No Mom, you see her on TV. She doesn't live here.
G: Does too.
Son: Grandma, I'm positive Ellen does not live around here.
G: Well I'm not going to argue with you about it.
I think it will be a while before we venture away from home with her again. It's too hard on all of us. In the meantime, please squelch any rumors you might hear about me and Tiger... and if you happen to run into Ellen... tell her Grandma says hello!
So ends Episode 18
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Episode 17 - Down for the Count
We were thrilled to have our son and grandson (from Kentucky) visiting this past week. Grandma enjoyed having them both here and I found several similarities between three year old Lil A and 84 year old Grandma. For instance, both enjoy their beverages in covered cups - Lil A in a sippy cup and Grandma, in a travel mug. Lil A enjoys watching the same Super Hero movie over and over. Grandma is glued to GSN most of the day. Each extends their forefinger toward you when trying to get their point across.... and speaks with a tone of authority, no matter how ridiculous their claim. Sometimes a little "three year old" psychology works with Grandma as well as Lil A. Letting them think something is their idea or presenting choices rather than merely asking questions.
As many parents of pre-school children can attest, bedtime can be a challenge. Likewise, "getting Grandma down for the night" is also a feat. We (DH, CeCe and I) play a little game each evening as Grandma retires to her basement quarters for bed.
G: It's time for bed Sam... Come on, let's go up to bed.
NM: Down
G: What?
NM: Down. You go 'down' to bed.
G: Oh yeah.
Sam saunters to the stairway and down they go. Game on. Each participant makes a guess as to how many times Grandma will be back upstairs before we go to bed.
Here she comes....
CeCe: One
G: I can't find my remote.
DH: It's on your nightstand.
G: No, It's not there.
DH: Go back and look again.
G: Maybe you can find it.
DH goes down with her and returns to tell us the remote was on the nightstand, but upside down.
A few minutes later, we hear her coming up the stairway, calling our names.
CeCe: Two
G: Sam needs to go out. I don't think I can do it.
NM: We can do that...
DH hooks Sam to the line while Grandma sits down in the living room.
G: I have a problem.
NM: What is it?
G: I don't know what pajamas to wear.
NM: Uh... wear blue.
G: Blue? OK.
Sam and Grandma return to the basement.
And then...
CeCe: Three
G: Hello? Something is wrong with my heater. It's way too hot in my room.
DH to the rescue.
And again, the familiar sound...
CeCe: Four,(Five,etc.)
G: Are the doors locked?
NM: Yes
G: Will you be going to church tomorrow?
NM: No, tomorrow is Wednesday.
G: There's a noise in the wall by the bathroom...
NM: It's the furnace.
G: Can someone take me to D1? I have some papers I need to get.
DH: Your papers are in the basement. There's nothing left at D1.
Never once has Grandma come up asking for a glass of water (a common bedtime diversion in three year old circles). She repeats the same queries frequently and some nights are worse than others. As for the "contestants," we waffle between amusement and frustration. There's no prize for the correct guess, but it's part of 'our' evening routine. It's entertainment that also adds levity to the situation. The record stands at six - we hope it stands for a long while!
So ends Episode 17.
As many parents of pre-school children can attest, bedtime can be a challenge. Likewise, "getting Grandma down for the night" is also a feat. We (DH, CeCe and I) play a little game each evening as Grandma retires to her basement quarters for bed.
G: It's time for bed Sam... Come on, let's go up to bed.
NM: Down
G: What?
NM: Down. You go 'down' to bed.
G: Oh yeah.
Sam saunters to the stairway and down they go. Game on. Each participant makes a guess as to how many times Grandma will be back upstairs before we go to bed.
Here she comes....
CeCe: One
G: I can't find my remote.
DH: It's on your nightstand.
G: No, It's not there.
DH: Go back and look again.
G: Maybe you can find it.
DH goes down with her and returns to tell us the remote was on the nightstand, but upside down.
A few minutes later, we hear her coming up the stairway, calling our names.
CeCe: Two
G: Sam needs to go out. I don't think I can do it.
NM: We can do that...
DH hooks Sam to the line while Grandma sits down in the living room.
G: I have a problem.
NM: What is it?
G: I don't know what pajamas to wear.
NM: Uh... wear blue.
G: Blue? OK.
Sam and Grandma return to the basement.
And then...
CeCe: Three
G: Hello? Something is wrong with my heater. It's way too hot in my room.
DH to the rescue.
And again, the familiar sound...
CeCe: Four,(Five,etc.)
G: Are the doors locked?
NM: Yes
G: Will you be going to church tomorrow?
NM: No, tomorrow is Wednesday.
G: There's a noise in the wall by the bathroom...
NM: It's the furnace.
G: Can someone take me to D1? I have some papers I need to get.
DH: Your papers are in the basement. There's nothing left at D1.
Never once has Grandma come up asking for a glass of water (a common bedtime diversion in three year old circles). She repeats the same queries frequently and some nights are worse than others. As for the "contestants," we waffle between amusement and frustration. There's no prize for the correct guess, but it's part of 'our' evening routine. It's entertainment that also adds levity to the situation. The record stands at six - we hope it stands for a long while!
So ends Episode 17.
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