Mom Notes

I think Mom, 90, brushed her teeth with her hand lotion yesterday--and decided she needed to find her Crest toothpaste --which was not lost. She showed me the lotion she used --clearly marked "hand lotion."

Everyday, we look for lost things among her chest of belongings. It keeps her busy. She is pretty sure other people are responsible for what she cannot find.

She has a favorite fleece sweater with pockets. It's baby or periwinckle blue with plaid elements --very casual looking. I have to hide it to keep her from wearing it every time she goes anywhere --especially with her favorite pants which are a more aqua blue --so they clash --in addition to wearing it every day at home which is fine. But it needs washing, and she gets real indignant in her opinion that things don't need to be washed just because they have food splotches on them.

"No one is going to notice. People don't look at those sorts of things!"

Same with baths. "People don't take baths every day." (or any day, by her calendar.) "Yes they do, Mom. Rob does; Jon does; I do."
"O that's ridiculous."

She can't open the shower door herself or turn the water on and off, so this supervision of the shower is my daily duty.

Rob gets her breakfast --and no body can make breakfast like Rob, she says. I will brew coffee and doctor it up with flavorings and splenda --and it's no way NEAR the quality of his instant mix of de-caf and caf, black. (Even though she likes sweets!) I fixed scrambled eggs once thinking it was a treat for both Grandmas -- had bacon and the works --and both were dissatisfied. (The other grandma is 88 and can hardly walk but has her mental faculties --and has been visiting quite frequently lately. She's very close to having to go into a facility as I won't be able to compensate if she can't walk anymore.

Of Rob, my mother says he's been taking care of her since he was a little boy.

"No, Mom, just since he stayed now and then with you during some college years. --He wasn't a little boy.

"Well, sure he was!"

She is quite willing to undress in front of nearly everybody, which we certainly don't allow. She just thinks I'm silly to think she ought not undress in front of the men in the family.

But she came here lonely--and she doesn't mind it if Rob and I are on computers in her room, the sun room (my only guest bed on the main floor with bathroom attached). She had gotten so lonely living alone. She would normally want to crab at any who kept her awake past her ridiculously early bed times --but she thinks Rob belongs in her room all night --and doesn't complain about me either. About Rob, she says, "Where IS he, the room is ready!!"

I said, "Mom, he doesn't sleep in your room."
"Why, yes he does!" with the look I get daily that says, "What are you, a do do bird??"

O the trials of life --Mudrake and Mom!

"God is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance and have eternal life."--the Bible

Doc and His Mother-in-Law

As some of you know if you've followed this blog, my mom has been with us since Valentine's Day and she is afflicted with dementia at 89 --which has been coming on for several years. She told me on the phone that day that she was feeling "sort of lonesome," so I invited her here. Rob went to get her, a three-hour drive. She would usually say she has too much to do to come visit us, so her visits were very rare.

I found I had to help her with shower and dressing because she hasn't the strength to open the shower door or turn on the faucet. I hold the shower head, one of those with a hose and a slider. She didn't seem to mind me doing this from the first, though she doesn't see the need of it.

On Sundays, I have to get her ready and then me. Rob or Jon does the breakfast for them while I run off to music and teaching duties at church. Today, she wanted to wear her old, fuzzy, pilled periwinkle blue sweater with her aqua slacks --which clash color-wise. But it's her favorite outfit. I guided her to a cotton knit navy blue slacks with white shirt and a navy and white striped cotton sweater that I bought for her. It's very springy, contemporary and nice-looking on her. She usually says, "I can't wear this!! It's black! I can't wear these stripes!!!" On Sunday, I also hide the fleece jacket she lives in all week because she's always cold. She has a London Fog jacket that looks nicer for church.

Tonight, Jon said there was a funny story about my mother that happened after I left this morning. He heard this huffing and puffing headed toward the kitchen and thought my mom was having trouble breathing. He said, "What's the matter, Jane?"

"(huff, puff) O I just hurt all over. (huff,puff) I can hardly walk. It's my hip pain. It's all my joints."

"Show me where it hurts."

"(huff puff) it's my stomach, right here. Well, (huff, puff, huff, puff).....what it is --I'M MAD!!! I'm mad at Barbara. I don't see why I can't wear whatever I want!" (She was also mad earlier about the hairdo from the hairdresser --for some reason it wasn't just right. Said, "That girl oughtta be fired!" )

"Well that looks really nice, what you have on, " he said. "You know, Jane, as we get older it's just inevitable that our kids become more like our parents to us --and tell us what to do --and we become the kids. Sometimes my kids tell me what to do, too" (not so true that I can think of --except that we DO accommodate them when it comes to the grandkids and where to eat and things like that.)

Mom brightened right up and giggled at the thought of his kids telling him what to do, I guess.

Anyway, next thing he knows, she's whistling in her room and then singing the children's song,
"Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah! Praise ye the Lord!"

Miracle cure! Some Doc!




"God is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance and have eternal life."--the Bible