The faculty of making stupid discoveries by accident. The name of my first Fantasy Football Team. Neither of which have anything to do with this blog. I just like the word. Deal with it !!!!!!
I “miss” my mom.
It is 11:18 am and mom is still in bed sleeping. Dad is sitting downstairs, totally bored. I asked him if he wanted to read the paper – so he is, at least, browsing it. I feel bad that there isn’t lot for him to do. His only real hobbies were hunting and fishing and he can’t do either of those anymore either. I understand the boredom issue – I myself have moments when I wish there was “something to do”. But there always is something to do around here so my moments are more of laziness rather than boredom.
Mom would sleep 24/7 if we let her. This is another phase of her disease. I have been warned that there could also be the opposite where she does not sleep and will have to be watched 24/7. I am dreading that phase more than her sleeping phase. At least while she is sleeping I can get things done without having to stop and ask her not to touch things please. I hate asking her that as much as she hates hearing it. It makes my job that more difficult when I have to do something twice. For instance, the dishes. I hate doing dishes. When I first moved in here I had a dishwasher. It bit the dust in May and as of yet Landlord Man has not replaced it as required in the Residential Tenancies Act nor as he promised he would do in June.
After each meal I collect all the dishes and set them in the kitchen. Sometimes I am finished my meal long before mom and dad. I eat much less, therefore faster than them. At dinner time I prefer to have my coffee and sometimes dessert later in the evening while watching TV.
Mom has this ingrained trait that dishes must be done as soon as a meal is over. I do not share this trait with mom. Instead, I do the dishes when I get to them, sometime between laundry, showering, sleeping and other general life occurances. Mom also thinks that by wiping dishes down with a wet paper towel is washing them. This is also a trait I do not share with my mother. When I do the dishes I use the hottest water possible and wear rubber gloves. I do this for two reasons. It is more sanitary and when they are that hot coming out of the water they dry alot faster. I told you, I hate doing dishes.
There are times when inadvertantly mom is left to her own devices in the kitchen. Usually, after dinner we watch TV. And usually I fall asleep in the big easy chair…this leaves mom free and clear to enter the kitchen and wreck some havoc. No one ever knows what they will find if she has been in there alone. Once, a container of Bungee Cords made its way into the fridge. Just yesterday I opened the fridge door to find a pile of clean dish towels on the shelf. Ok, so it was neatly folded and stacked but that is not the point!
I never realized how picky I was about my kitchen until mom and dad came to live with me. I am by no means a control freak, but I am a Virgo. There is a place for everything in my kitchen, at least there is a place in my mind for everything in my kitchen. Knives are separated by usage in the cutlery drawer. As are spoons and forks. In mom’s world they all go together. Pots, pans, baking sheets etc are under the counter in the cupboard. Dish towels, dish clothes, rubber gloves go in the drawer in the microwave stand. The list goes on. In mom’s world something goes wherever she can find a place for it. I have now come to understand what I once thought was an OCD trait in my father of buying something – kitchen things in particular was not in fact OCD but rather the fact that mom had put something away and didn’t know where so dad just went and bought new. At one time they had 4 coffee machines. Somewhere in their place are more dish towels than at WalMart.
I love my mother. I always have. Even in those wacky teen years when some children hate their parents…not really hate them, just think they do…I never did. My mom and I got along great. Sure we had our differences, what parents and children do not, but never anything that would have us running to a shrink for help. My mom was a cool mom. One that all my friends would come and visit even if I wasn’t home. We had one of those homes where all the kids hung out. Myself and my brothers friends even called my parents mom and dad. (Moreso my mother than my father…) To this day some of my friends still call them mom and dad. Unfortunately mom and dad don’t remember most of them. 😦
Alzheimers has robbed my mother of most of her “motherly” traits. Mom was always a shoulder to cry on, a calmer of all fears, a tender hand to wipe away tears. I could talk to her about almost anything and she would understand and tell me what she would do. She could see the good in almost any situation. She was kind and compassionate. That is all gone.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer in 2004 all she could come up with was that it wasn’t “fair”. She didn’t understand the ramifications of the diagnosis, the severity of it all was lost on her. On a daily basis she would ask what was wrong with me and what the doctors were going to do to fix it. Explaining the surgery, what it entailed and the subsequent chemo and radiation elicted nothing more than a perfunctatory “that doesn’t sound good”. One time and one time only, in a moment of lucidity she wrapped her arms around me and let me cry on her shoulder. The moment was brief and ended when she decided she was hungry and wanted some toast.
I miss my mom. Even though she is here physically she is all but lost to me. She is not the same woman I called Mom my whole life. I want her back. I want her to wrap her arms around me while I sob and tell me it is all going to be alright. But, that is not going to happen. Instead I will go through my day wishing for some small miracle that includes just once her remembering that I am her daughter, her first born and not just the woman who lives upstairs.