My work schedule has changed so I am frequently up by 4 am now and out the door by 5. It sounds horrendous but really isn't that bad once you get used to it. This also happens to coincide with my mom's schedule of using the restroom so as I am getting ready I will see a little old lady appear at the door.
It's the same everyday... "can I come in, I have to pee."
"Of course you can come in." My mom shuffles forward then stops and says "I need a hug." So we hug and she hangs on for dear life. "I don't think I can let go" she always says. "Well if you're going to pee you HAVE to let go eventually." " I know, but I don't want to." Fair enough.
She uses the restroom and washes her hands. She is very good about the handwashing because it is routine now, which took us several months of training to accomplish. At first her response was "Why, I never pee on my hands." " Wash them anyway, you get no hugs if you don't wash your hands." She considered it a fair trade.
On her way out she always stops and says "I need a hug." "You just had a hug." Sometimes I get impatient because I am trying to get ready for work and get out the door. But her blue eyes and outstretched arms settle the matter. Another hug, and I realize that these moments will go away someday. She will stop asking for hugs and I will be devastated then. I will mourn the loss of hugs and the loss of her connection to me. I don't know what that will look like, but I am pretty certain that I won't like it.
The truth is, I need a hug too. And I am going to take them as long as she will give them to me.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
When he said Dip I thought he said Sip
So here's another church story. Couple of Sundays ago was a good day for church. First Sunday back to the normal fall schedule, new Sunday School classes, confirmation breakfast for me and my covenant partner (a young person going through confirmation class), and a communion Sunday.
We pick a seat at the very back in case my mom has to go to the bathroom, starts throwing a hissy fit, or otherwise needs to step out. Service is going swimmingly, except my mom can no longer read so she pretends to look at the hymnal and moves her mouth, trying to anticipate the words. She also pretends to read the bulletin and follow along, but every 5 seconds she asks Jesse, "ok, where are we now" and he has to point to the part of the bulletin that applies. She speaks in a "whisper" that really is a normal speaking voice, adding some breathiness to it so she thinks she is whispering. I can see the people in front of us moving their heads as far to the side as they can without really turning around, trying to see who is talking.
Before her Alzheimers became obvious, before the night of the "crisis" that took her out of her home and into a facility, there were signs. I just didn't see them. Momentary lapses and confusion that were infrequent so I attributed them to fatigue or preoccupation. We all have those moments right? It doesn't mean we are going to develop Alzheimers. One such incident occurred years ago at church. My mom was with us, which didn't happen very often because Presbyterians don't sing the "good hymns." But there she was, making the best of it... UNTIL communion time. This particular Sunday we passed the elements down the row rather than going up to the front of the church. As you pass the bread you turn to the next person and say "this is the body of Christ broken for you" and then the person next to you takes the plate and does the same thing and so on down the row. Ditto for the wine. Clear instructions are in the bulletin, the pastor goes explains it verbally before distributing the elements, and if you just watch all the 87 people who have just done it before you then you can pretty much mimic it. Unless you are MaMere...
As the plate comes to our row I tell her to get ready. "What the hell am I getting ready for? I'm not an idiot." I turn to her with the plate, "Mom, this is the body of Christ broken for you." She takes a piece of bread and JUST SITS THERE. "Mom, you have to pass this to the person next to you and say what I just said." "What? Well hell, let me get my glasses out." "You don't need glasses, just say the same thing I just said." "Oh hell you know I can't remember that without my glasses. Apparently glasses improve memory. (this is why I told her to get READY) She moves in slow motion, digging in her purse for glasses, and finally pulls them out. She puts them on with all the drama of a person who is about to see for the first time. "OK, what am I supposed to do." "Mom, offer the plate to the person next to you and say "this is the body of Christ broken for you. That's it." "Well isn't it written down someWHERE on the bulletin?" "YES, but I just told you what to say, so just say it." No one behind us can get communion until this comedy of errors plays out. She ignores me and starts looking in the bulletin for the written instructions. After eons of time and my mom mouthing the words to herself I finally raise my voice, "Just say the sentence I told you, JUST SAY IT AND PASS THE PLATE!" My mother has the nerve to look genuinely surprised and yells "STOP RUSHING ME!"
.
She finally pulls it together and gets the plate on its way down the row. Crisis averted, UNTIL.... someone decided that it was time to pass the wine... "This is the blood of Christ poured out for your sins." Take two........ The organist just keeps playing the same music over and over because my mom has delayed so long that his carefully chosen hymn has ended so he just keeps starting over and keeps playing.... and playing...
This was one of the "shots across the bow" that I should've known meant something was coming.
So now we are back at last Sunday's communion and the process has changed. This time we are taking communion by intinction, dip the bread into the wine. This should be easier for her so we head to the front of the church. She takes a piece of bread and puts it in her mouth. Then she reaches for the goblets and attempts to take it from the elder serving communion. A tug of war ensues and I try to intervene before one of us ends up wearing the wine, The elder says, "it's ok, you can get another piece of bread so you can dip it." My mom waves her arms at the elder and says, "I just had about all the Jesus I need." She waves away the goblet and starts shuffling back to her seat. She really does love Jesus, she just forgot for a minute.
We pick a seat at the very back in case my mom has to go to the bathroom, starts throwing a hissy fit, or otherwise needs to step out. Service is going swimmingly, except my mom can no longer read so she pretends to look at the hymnal and moves her mouth, trying to anticipate the words. She also pretends to read the bulletin and follow along, but every 5 seconds she asks Jesse, "ok, where are we now" and he has to point to the part of the bulletin that applies. She speaks in a "whisper" that really is a normal speaking voice, adding some breathiness to it so she thinks she is whispering. I can see the people in front of us moving their heads as far to the side as they can without really turning around, trying to see who is talking.
Before her Alzheimers became obvious, before the night of the "crisis" that took her out of her home and into a facility, there were signs. I just didn't see them. Momentary lapses and confusion that were infrequent so I attributed them to fatigue or preoccupation. We all have those moments right? It doesn't mean we are going to develop Alzheimers. One such incident occurred years ago at church. My mom was with us, which didn't happen very often because Presbyterians don't sing the "good hymns." But there she was, making the best of it... UNTIL communion time. This particular Sunday we passed the elements down the row rather than going up to the front of the church. As you pass the bread you turn to the next person and say "this is the body of Christ broken for you" and then the person next to you takes the plate and does the same thing and so on down the row. Ditto for the wine. Clear instructions are in the bulletin, the pastor goes explains it verbally before distributing the elements, and if you just watch all the 87 people who have just done it before you then you can pretty much mimic it. Unless you are MaMere...
As the plate comes to our row I tell her to get ready. "What the hell am I getting ready for? I'm not an idiot." I turn to her with the plate, "Mom, this is the body of Christ broken for you." She takes a piece of bread and JUST SITS THERE. "Mom, you have to pass this to the person next to you and say what I just said." "What? Well hell, let me get my glasses out." "You don't need glasses, just say the same thing I just said." "Oh hell you know I can't remember that without my glasses. Apparently glasses improve memory. (this is why I told her to get READY) She moves in slow motion, digging in her purse for glasses, and finally pulls them out. She puts them on with all the drama of a person who is about to see for the first time. "OK, what am I supposed to do." "Mom, offer the plate to the person next to you and say "this is the body of Christ broken for you. That's it." "Well isn't it written down someWHERE on the bulletin?" "YES, but I just told you what to say, so just say it." No one behind us can get communion until this comedy of errors plays out. She ignores me and starts looking in the bulletin for the written instructions. After eons of time and my mom mouthing the words to herself I finally raise my voice, "Just say the sentence I told you, JUST SAY IT AND PASS THE PLATE!" My mother has the nerve to look genuinely surprised and yells "STOP RUSHING ME!"
.
She finally pulls it together and gets the plate on its way down the row. Crisis averted, UNTIL.... someone decided that it was time to pass the wine... "This is the blood of Christ poured out for your sins." Take two........ The organist just keeps playing the same music over and over because my mom has delayed so long that his carefully chosen hymn has ended so he just keeps starting over and keeps playing.... and playing...
This was one of the "shots across the bow" that I should've known meant something was coming.
So now we are back at last Sunday's communion and the process has changed. This time we are taking communion by intinction, dip the bread into the wine. This should be easier for her so we head to the front of the church. She takes a piece of bread and puts it in her mouth. Then she reaches for the goblets and attempts to take it from the elder serving communion. A tug of war ensues and I try to intervene before one of us ends up wearing the wine, The elder says, "it's ok, you can get another piece of bread so you can dip it." My mom waves her arms at the elder and says, "I just had about all the Jesus I need." She waves away the goblet and starts shuffling back to her seat. She really does love Jesus, she just forgot for a minute.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Play Bingo in Church...
When the stars align and MaMere is having a good day on Sunday we take her to church with us. I can tell when she wakes up if it is a day for church or a day for someone to stay home with her. On a "good day for church" she comes out of her room smilig, blues eyes sparkling. On a "not so good day for church" she comes out of her room scowling, muttering curse words and waving her skinny arms at all of us. "I'm not really up yet, I just have to pee and then I'm getting back in the damn bed" she says as she shuffles to the bathroom. I know God understands, He doesn't want her ruining it for everyone else.
When we do take her with us she shuffles along smiling at everyone and acting like she is the model of good behavior. She says "I'm proud to meet you" when she is introduced to people, which is an old person expression. All of the residents at the facility she used to live in say the same thing. I'm not exactly sure why they are proud when they meet someone, I'm going to have to look up the origin of that expression.
Church members will tell her how sweet she is and she looks at me as if to say "see, I'm still smart enough to fool all these people." I roll my eyes at her and she grins bigger. Suckers.
One Sunday we had a youth fundraiser after church, complete with lunch and bingo. MaMere is settled with her bingo cards and is in rare form. She is ready to WIN. She has 4 cards in front of her which I know is a problem but she insisted. I'm not going to arm wrestle the bingo cards away from her... at least not in front of everyone. Let the games begin.
"Bingo" she screams, waving her skinny arm. She hands the card to my daughter who has to take it up to the front to be checked.
"I'm sorry, no bingo," one of the youth announces over the microphone.
"Well damn, I was sure I had it." I let it go because if I call her on it she will say twice as many curse words trying to convince me that she hasn't said a curse word.
She does her best impression of Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day" and does the exact same thing two more times. My daughter is losing her patience and stomps to the front of the room to have MaMere's cards checked.
"No bingo." "No bingo." My mom looks at me and rolls her eyes and sighs loudly, as if there is a secret Bingo conspiracy against her.
MaMere keeps marking her cards.... she stops and opens her mouth... "Don't say it" Laurel says under her breath. Too late, it's already coming out of her mouth.... "BINGO" she screams. "And this time I really have it!" My daughter makes no move to get up and my mother gets irritated. "Take it up there, I really have it this time. I was paying attention." Laurel looks at me and shakes her head no. "Just take it up there Laurel." "Mom, it's embarrassing, she doesn't have a bingo." I pull mom rank because I don't want to have to take the card up to the front. After all, I have to give her a shower so I figure Laurel can handle the embarrassment of the not-a-bingo card.
Laurel makes it obvious to everyone in the fellowship hall that she is not happy about this 4th trip to the front. She stomps her feet and sighs loudly, jaw set and eyes reflecting her irritation. I don't know where she gets these traits.....
Now the bingo callers are irritated.... my mother has completely disrupted the flow of the game with her continuous false bingos. "I'm sorry, NO BINGO." Laurel shoots daggers at me with her eyes and puts her hands in the air. She is done. My mother does not take this well, she was CERTAIN she had a bingo. We quickly go from a "good day for church" to a "not so good day for church." "Well goddamn it, this is so fucking frustrating" she screams out loud, smacking her hand on the table. Time slows down for a minute and I feel myself get hot. My vision tunnels... I see my kids visibly recoil and look for the nearest hole to fall into. I see the faces of the little kids, looking to see who is causing the disruption, the startled looks on the faces of other church members. I make a mental note to convert to a religion where speaking is forbidden. Then I see Jesse's face in my peripheral vision, he is trying hard to keep from laughing out loud. A split second later everyone recovers and someone starts laughing, then others laugh. Time speeds back up again. The bingo caller quickly calls out another number and the game moves on. I take all but one of MaMere's bingo cards and she keeps playing like nothing happened.
Afterwards several people came up to tell me how "funny" my mom is. "Yes, she's a real piece of work..." One lady told me that was the best laugh she had in a long time and she just "looooooves MaMere." (Great, you sit with her next time.)
As we are leaving my mom says goodbye to people on her way out, smiling sweetly like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She has no idea she just dropped an f-bomb in church so she is happy as a clam in sand, oblivious to embarrassment, impervious to shame. I guess that's freeing in a way. I am just thankful that I go to a church where the members will smile at her after an f-bomb and not judge her. Thank you baby Jesus for grace.
When we do take her with us she shuffles along smiling at everyone and acting like she is the model of good behavior. She says "I'm proud to meet you" when she is introduced to people, which is an old person expression. All of the residents at the facility she used to live in say the same thing. I'm not exactly sure why they are proud when they meet someone, I'm going to have to look up the origin of that expression.
Church members will tell her how sweet she is and she looks at me as if to say "see, I'm still smart enough to fool all these people." I roll my eyes at her and she grins bigger. Suckers.
One Sunday we had a youth fundraiser after church, complete with lunch and bingo. MaMere is settled with her bingo cards and is in rare form. She is ready to WIN. She has 4 cards in front of her which I know is a problem but she insisted. I'm not going to arm wrestle the bingo cards away from her... at least not in front of everyone. Let the games begin.
"Bingo" she screams, waving her skinny arm. She hands the card to my daughter who has to take it up to the front to be checked.
"I'm sorry, no bingo," one of the youth announces over the microphone.
"Well damn, I was sure I had it." I let it go because if I call her on it she will say twice as many curse words trying to convince me that she hasn't said a curse word.
She does her best impression of Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day" and does the exact same thing two more times. My daughter is losing her patience and stomps to the front of the room to have MaMere's cards checked.
"No bingo." "No bingo." My mom looks at me and rolls her eyes and sighs loudly, as if there is a secret Bingo conspiracy against her.
MaMere keeps marking her cards.... she stops and opens her mouth... "Don't say it" Laurel says under her breath. Too late, it's already coming out of her mouth.... "BINGO" she screams. "And this time I really have it!" My daughter makes no move to get up and my mother gets irritated. "Take it up there, I really have it this time. I was paying attention." Laurel looks at me and shakes her head no. "Just take it up there Laurel." "Mom, it's embarrassing, she doesn't have a bingo." I pull mom rank because I don't want to have to take the card up to the front. After all, I have to give her a shower so I figure Laurel can handle the embarrassment of the not-a-bingo card.
Laurel makes it obvious to everyone in the fellowship hall that she is not happy about this 4th trip to the front. She stomps her feet and sighs loudly, jaw set and eyes reflecting her irritation. I don't know where she gets these traits.....
Now the bingo callers are irritated.... my mother has completely disrupted the flow of the game with her continuous false bingos. "I'm sorry, NO BINGO." Laurel shoots daggers at me with her eyes and puts her hands in the air. She is done. My mother does not take this well, she was CERTAIN she had a bingo. We quickly go from a "good day for church" to a "not so good day for church." "Well goddamn it, this is so fucking frustrating" she screams out loud, smacking her hand on the table. Time slows down for a minute and I feel myself get hot. My vision tunnels... I see my kids visibly recoil and look for the nearest hole to fall into. I see the faces of the little kids, looking to see who is causing the disruption, the startled looks on the faces of other church members. I make a mental note to convert to a religion where speaking is forbidden. Then I see Jesse's face in my peripheral vision, he is trying hard to keep from laughing out loud. A split second later everyone recovers and someone starts laughing, then others laugh. Time speeds back up again. The bingo caller quickly calls out another number and the game moves on. I take all but one of MaMere's bingo cards and she keeps playing like nothing happened.
Afterwards several people came up to tell me how "funny" my mom is. "Yes, she's a real piece of work..." One lady told me that was the best laugh she had in a long time and she just "looooooves MaMere." (Great, you sit with her next time.)
As we are leaving my mom says goodbye to people on her way out, smiling sweetly like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She has no idea she just dropped an f-bomb in church so she is happy as a clam in sand, oblivious to embarrassment, impervious to shame. I guess that's freeing in a way. I am just thankful that I go to a church where the members will smile at her after an f-bomb and not judge her. Thank you baby Jesus for grace.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Where's my damn remote?
OK, I am the worst blogger ever.... the longer you delay something the easier it is to keep delaying. I went through a period of second guessing my decision to publicly chronicle my mother's battle with the forgetness disease. This illness that is rarely named, not because we are afraid to say it, but because she doesn't remember she has it. We let her have that illusion. Then comes the moments, farther and farther apart, when she looks at me with fear in her blue eyes and she whispers "This is so humiliating. I hate this." And then the moment is gone and she shuffles away, looking for someone to sneak up on and scare or trying to find her remote control.
The remote control is an object of great power at the Diaz house. My mother uses it in a vain attempt to connect to a world she no longer understands. She will often settle on a spanish station and turn the volume up as loud as it will go, as if she will suddenly understand spanish if only the sound is loud enough. I asked her why she was watching spanish novellas when she didn't speak spanish. She thought about it a minute and said, "I guess I forgot that I didn't speak spanish." That makes perfect sense to her and is actually a pretty good answer.
Jesse discovered the power of the remote one day when he and MaMere got in a fight about her physical therapy. Jesse is a saint, in case I haven't said it let me say it again: the man is a saint. He does physical therapy with MaMere on a daily basis. She does her leg lifts and sit/stand, and uses her three pound weights while Jesse sits with her physical therapy folder in his lap, a Jack and Coke in one hand. (I have it on video, the irony does not escape either of us.)
Some days she refuses to exercise and Jesse, bless his heart, tries to use logic to convince her. It goes like this:
M- "I'm not doing it. I'm a 70 year old woman and dammit I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
J- "You have to exercise mom, this keeps you up and moving."
M- "I move just fine, and besides the nurse/doctor/physical therapist (this changes with the day) told me I don't have to do it anymore."
J- "No, they told you THEY don't have to come anymore as long as YOU do your exercises everyday."
M-"I'm not doing any goddamn exercises and you can't make me." This usually ends with her kicking her feet as she sits on the side of her bed and her slippers go flying off.
Jesse gets his feelings hurt, MaMere sulks, exercises eventually get done, but it takes an emotional toll on Jesse and MaMere.
This daily ritual began again one day with MaMere refusing and Jesse cajoling. MaMere changed her argument though and it proved to be her downfall in the fight against physical therapy. "I'm not doing it, I am watching my damn shows" she yelled as she waved her remote at Jesse. The lightbulb went off in a blinding flash. "Fine," Jesse said as he grabbed the bobbing remote. "When you decide to do your exercises you can have this back." He left her room and hid the remote from her and a standoff ensued. MaMere severely misjudged Jesse's resolve in this matter and after a short time she broke.
"Ok, fine. I'll do the goddamn exercises if I can have my damn remote back," she said, waving a skinny arm at Jesse.
"Mom, this isn't for me, it's for your benefit."
"I just said I'll do it, let's get the damn show on the road. I'm missing my damn shows."
One night Jesse and I were watching TV in the family room. MaMere came out of her room and loudly announced that she is walking laps around the house and will we please give her remote back when she has done enough laps. She stands straight and walks at a fast clip, looking over to make sure we are watching her. "Did you take her remote again?" I asked Jesse. "No, we did exercises earlier, I don't know what she's talking about." A beat later I said "Should we tell her we don't have it?" "Wait until she does ten laps around the house, she needs to walk anyway."
Paybacks are a bitch.
The remote control is an object of great power at the Diaz house. My mother uses it in a vain attempt to connect to a world she no longer understands. She will often settle on a spanish station and turn the volume up as loud as it will go, as if she will suddenly understand spanish if only the sound is loud enough. I asked her why she was watching spanish novellas when she didn't speak spanish. She thought about it a minute and said, "I guess I forgot that I didn't speak spanish." That makes perfect sense to her and is actually a pretty good answer.
Jesse discovered the power of the remote one day when he and MaMere got in a fight about her physical therapy. Jesse is a saint, in case I haven't said it let me say it again: the man is a saint. He does physical therapy with MaMere on a daily basis. She does her leg lifts and sit/stand, and uses her three pound weights while Jesse sits with her physical therapy folder in his lap, a Jack and Coke in one hand. (I have it on video, the irony does not escape either of us.)
Some days she refuses to exercise and Jesse, bless his heart, tries to use logic to convince her. It goes like this:
M- "I'm not doing it. I'm a 70 year old woman and dammit I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
J- "You have to exercise mom, this keeps you up and moving."
M- "I move just fine, and besides the nurse/doctor/physical therapist (this changes with the day) told me I don't have to do it anymore."
J- "No, they told you THEY don't have to come anymore as long as YOU do your exercises everyday."
M-"I'm not doing any goddamn exercises and you can't make me." This usually ends with her kicking her feet as she sits on the side of her bed and her slippers go flying off.
Jesse gets his feelings hurt, MaMere sulks, exercises eventually get done, but it takes an emotional toll on Jesse and MaMere.
This daily ritual began again one day with MaMere refusing and Jesse cajoling. MaMere changed her argument though and it proved to be her downfall in the fight against physical therapy. "I'm not doing it, I am watching my damn shows" she yelled as she waved her remote at Jesse. The lightbulb went off in a blinding flash. "Fine," Jesse said as he grabbed the bobbing remote. "When you decide to do your exercises you can have this back." He left her room and hid the remote from her and a standoff ensued. MaMere severely misjudged Jesse's resolve in this matter and after a short time she broke.
"Ok, fine. I'll do the goddamn exercises if I can have my damn remote back," she said, waving a skinny arm at Jesse.
"Mom, this isn't for me, it's for your benefit."
"I just said I'll do it, let's get the damn show on the road. I'm missing my damn shows."
One night Jesse and I were watching TV in the family room. MaMere came out of her room and loudly announced that she is walking laps around the house and will we please give her remote back when she has done enough laps. She stands straight and walks at a fast clip, looking over to make sure we are watching her. "Did you take her remote again?" I asked Jesse. "No, we did exercises earlier, I don't know what she's talking about." A beat later I said "Should we tell her we don't have it?" "Wait until she does ten laps around the house, she needs to walk anyway."
Paybacks are a bitch.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I Have a Question
Haven't posted in a few days and I forgot my password to login... I am my mother's daughter after all!
We've had some rough nights with MaMere. She has been particularly restless at night, walking the hallways and coming in and out of everyone's room.
Last night's shenanigans:
Jesse and I are discussing some business matters and in walks MaMere.
"What's up MaMere?"
"I don't know, I had something to tell you and now I can't remember what it was."
"Do you need something? Do you want something to eat or drink?"
"No, but if you keep talking I'll never remember it." Yes, it's my fault she can't remember anything. She shuffles out of our room and down the hall....
90 seconds later we hear the slippers slapping on the tile.
"OK, I need to ask you something before I forget it."
"What's up MaMere?"
"Damn... I just forgot."
"Come back when you remember."
"I will!!"
This time only 60 seconds went by before we hear the slippers slapping on the tile.
"OK, I have a question. What I want to know is... What do I want to know?"
"I don't know MeMere, it's your question."
"Well son of a bitch." She turns around to leave.... But doesn't... In the time it takes her to start back down the hall she thinks that she remembers so she turns back around quickly, which puts her off balance and she almost falls down. "Well shit, I almost broke my damn neck."
"Did you remember what you wanted?"
"Yes, I sure did!"
"Great, what is it?"
The sound of silence and crickets ensues.
"Mamere, why don't you just go relax and see if it comes to you?"
She turns to go and says "That's what I want to do but SOME people are keeping me back here."
"WHAT?.. YOU keep coming back here!"
She looks back with a mischievous grin, "Ha, I got you that time!" she shuffled down the hall cackling.
Dear Lord, give me strength.
We've had some rough nights with MaMere. She has been particularly restless at night, walking the hallways and coming in and out of everyone's room.
Last night's shenanigans:
Jesse and I are discussing some business matters and in walks MaMere.
"What's up MaMere?"
"I don't know, I had something to tell you and now I can't remember what it was."
"Do you need something? Do you want something to eat or drink?"
"No, but if you keep talking I'll never remember it." Yes, it's my fault she can't remember anything. She shuffles out of our room and down the hall....
90 seconds later we hear the slippers slapping on the tile.
"OK, I need to ask you something before I forget it."
"What's up MaMere?"
"Damn... I just forgot."
"Come back when you remember."
"I will!!"
This time only 60 seconds went by before we hear the slippers slapping on the tile.
"OK, I have a question. What I want to know is... What do I want to know?"
"I don't know MeMere, it's your question."
"Well son of a bitch." She turns around to leave.... But doesn't... In the time it takes her to start back down the hall she thinks that she remembers so she turns back around quickly, which puts her off balance and she almost falls down. "Well shit, I almost broke my damn neck."
"Did you remember what you wanted?"
"Yes, I sure did!"
"Great, what is it?"
The sound of silence and crickets ensues.
"Mamere, why don't you just go relax and see if it comes to you?"
She turns to go and says "That's what I want to do but SOME people are keeping me back here."
"WHAT?.. YOU keep coming back here!"
She looks back with a mischievous grin, "Ha, I got you that time!" she shuffled down the hall cackling.
Dear Lord, give me strength.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Who's The President
Today Jesse took MaMere to lunch at Sonic. As he was waiting to pay, he quizzed her about which presidents were on the bills.
"Who is on the $5 bill mom?"
Mom starts thinking about it...
Jesse gives her a hint, "he got shot."
"KENNEDY!"
"No, he was tall and skinny and wore a tall hat."
"Abraham Lincoln!"
"Great, who's on the $1 bill?"
"George Washington!"
"Who's the current President?"
"Ummmmm........ Baaaaraaaaa........ yo mama?"
"You mean Barack Obama??" Jesse says cracking up.
MaMere burst out laughing and says "I guess I shouldn't have said that should I?"
Jesse is still laughing about it tonight. :)
"Who is on the $5 bill mom?"
Mom starts thinking about it...
Jesse gives her a hint, "he got shot."
"KENNEDY!"
"No, he was tall and skinny and wore a tall hat."
"Abraham Lincoln!"
"Great, who's on the $1 bill?"
"George Washington!"
"Who's the current President?"
"Ummmmm........ Baaaaraaaaa........ yo mama?"
"You mean Barack Obama??" Jesse says cracking up.
MaMere burst out laughing and says "I guess I shouldn't have said that should I?"
Jesse is still laughing about it tonight. :)
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Birthday Breakfast
Today we got up very early and took the twins out for a birthday breakfast. My mom gladly got up and got ready to go with us, even if she did curse all the way from the house to the car, the car to the restaurant and all the way back again. It's cold outside and MaMere DOES NOT LIKE COLD. Jesse teased her that we were thinking of moving to Alaska. She didn't find that funny.
Breakfast was nice and I loved having her there with the twins. Had she not been living with us she would have refused to get up and go. But something about being in the house with us has made her far more willing to participate in outings. Not sure why but I am grateful for it. Maybe it's because seeing us everyday makes her want to be with us. Maybe it's because she finds more comfort now in being with at least one of us at all times. Or maybe it's because I control whether or not we keep cable TV in the house and she wants to stay on my good side. Regardless, it's a win-win for us all and some great opportunities to make memories.
Breakfast was nice and I loved having her there with the twins. Had she not been living with us she would have refused to get up and go. But something about being in the house with us has made her far more willing to participate in outings. Not sure why but I am grateful for it. Maybe it's because seeing us everyday makes her want to be with us. Maybe it's because she finds more comfort now in being with at least one of us at all times. Or maybe it's because I control whether or not we keep cable TV in the house and she wants to stay on my good side. Regardless, it's a win-win for us all and some great opportunities to make memories.
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