This is a guest post written by my Big Sister. We are recognizing National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month here at Mom of the Perpetually Grounded. My sister took on living with my mom after my father passed away and was the closest witness to her decline for several years. She took on this job while maintaining a career as a police detective. Two of the most stressful jobs on the face of the earth.
She has done Tremendous work in both jobs.
So I bring you: The Most Awesome Big Sister; the Mighty Ms.K. (the one with the really cool suede boots)
In Memory of our Mom
I was the strong one and the one with no husband, or children. The one who helped when Daddy died, the one who took you back into my life after living alone for so many years. The last couple of years were the hardest….and I broke.
I was the nice stranger who cared for you, I was your sister you grew up with, but somehow never your daughter. You would look at me with those blue eyes and study my face, looking for some clue of who I was, looking for someone or something familiar. Tears would well up in your eyes as you realized you did not know where you were, or when, or how you were got there. Today it was 1942 and you were looking for your mom. Ten minutes later, it was 1983 and you were looking for my Daddy. It was then 1968 and you were looking for Johnny, “where is he, he should be home by now from school”.
We had more visitors from deceased family members than the ones who were living. They were not able to cope with what had happen to you. Alzheimer's. 8 years of sometimes slow, sometimes rapid decline. Then you would just sit and your eyes told me you were now somewhere else, another time and place I did not know. You no longer played the piano, playing the same song over and over again. You could not read a book, you could not even have a conversation anymore that made any sense.
Then sometimes, suddenly like a breeze across my face, you would look at me, know who I was and seemed to say…..I am still in here somewhere, I love you, thank you for still being here with me. Then just as suddenly you were gone again.
You were like a child. You would get so scared. I would hold you while you cried and it made me cry. I tried to make you feel safe. All the sleepless nights, finding you dressed, packed and ready to go, the searches for people who were no longer with us. The terror of suddenly finding yourself in a place and time you did not recognize.
I did as much as I could, but I was getting broken and I had to let you go. It broke my heart to leave you where they could care of you in ways I could not do any more. You died 4 months later.
I still grieve you. I miss you.
If you are a caregiver to a parent or family member with Alzheimers…not matter how strong you are, you can not do it alone. Don’t believe that you will be able to. You will break.
To the Mom of the Perpetually Grounded……Thank you for helping me get fixed again. I love you.
Luv Ya Back Mighty Ms. K.
If you are a Caregiver for an Alzheimers's patient you can visit alz.org to take the Caregiver Stress Check or find Caregiver Support in your area.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label Guest Posts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest Posts. Show all posts
Friday, November 19, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
In My Opinion (Commentary from Middlest)
(Middlest speaks for herself in answer to my previous post)
Hi, I am Middlest, as described in several of my mom’s posts. Yes, I did fail AP Lang. Yes, I refused to do my work. Yes, I drew instead of working with people who dislike me greatly (my teacher Constantly placed me in a group with these particular individuals who didn't even understand what we were working on). I don't like analyzing things, because, honestly, I highly doubt the writer intended that rock or hairbrush to have any real significant meaning. Also, as my mom said, I finished the reading assignments in days. The teacher didn't even give us the assignments to go along with it until she decided we were at that particular point. This bothers me greatly. I finish a book, I remember the main and even average details. Then two months later she tests me on "what shoes were Daisy wearing and why were they significant to the story". I find this utterly ridiculous. But, really, it isn’t even as simple as that. My frustration is deeply seeded.
I have always been a reader; I love books and words passionately. I can read up to three books (average sized, 200 page range) a day if I’m in the mood. I’ve probably spent more time reading than anything else. At some point I discovered writing. The first instance was in the third grade, when my teacher adored a story I wrote. I didn’t think much of it then, I just wrote like my then favorite author, Brian Jacques (side confession, I still read his books). Then in sixth grade, I wrote a poem in my Language Arts class. My teacher (a lovely woman who I still admire and look up to) had me read it in front of the class. When I finished, she said “It looks like we have a poet in the class”. Something clicked. I began to write and write and write. Nonstop. I loved it. I’d found a new way to use the words I loved so dearly. My teacher put me into her advanced writing class. (I attended a middle school designed for the arts, though I was there for orchestra, having been a cellist back then.) She became my idol and I went out of my way to impress her. I wanted her to praise my writing. It made me feel accomplished at something. She seemed to enjoy my work, which just fed my love for writing.
So, as most of the kids in my writing class did, I decided to go the arts high school for writing. I thought it would be the same and my teachers would be just as lovely as my wonderful mentor. But I quickly discovered how wrong I was. Where I had freedom in middle school, I was placed in a box here. My new writing teacher was a rather odd, scary man who preached contemporary writing. Everything was cliché, using big, beautiful words was a sin in his writing congregation. My writing freedom was yanked from beneath my feet. There I had to copy other writers who, in my opinion, were quite awful. The poetry I used to enjoy became torture, for I knew the next day it would be torn to shreds by competitive, arrogant freshmen who wanted to please the almighty King of Contemporary Literature. Here is where my hatred for every pin and thimble having sacred meaning became rooted. We were required to have“intent” with every piece. Slowly but surely, I began to cringe at the very thing I had loved.
I was also in an essay writing class, with a different teacher. The Grammar-Nazi Supreme. I’ve never been one for non-fiction, so I was already out of my comfort zone. She decided to “deprogram” us from standardized testing essay styles we’d been taught all our lives. So, were we to return to normal society where standardized testing ruled, we would be inevitably doomed. I didn’t do well in the class, and her constant criticism, telling me I didn’t want to be there, wilted and broke me down.
So, due to my stubborn nature and hatred for this confined box they kept me in, I ended up failing out of the school. I entered our local public school. (Having spent four years in the sheltered world of the magnet program, I was terrified.)
Now, two years later, I have failed AP Lang, much to the surprise of everyone. Simply, I didn’t want to do it anymore. I spent the first nine weeks kissing butt and showing off. For the first time, I received no acknowledgement for knowing my way around the English world. I could spend whole class periods being the only one to answer questions, but still there was not even a smile from the woman at the head of the class. So I shut down. I already knew most of what was being taught, so doing the work didn’t bring me any sense of accomplishment. I usually looked to praise in order to achieve that. In the absence of praise, I didn’t see the point in bothering anymore. I read the assigned books. I took the tests. That was the extent of it though. I could get much more satisfaction out of the two hours by drawing something beautiful, rather than reading and “analyzing” yet another essay on feminism or eating babies.
So, I admit to failing, and it being my fault. But I’m not ashamed of failing. It’s not because I’m stupid. Or I didn’t understand. The class just went too slowly for my taste. If I bothered to do the work it took me a matter of minutes. There is no achievement in it, so there was no point. I felt it was a waste of time, and yes, I did have to sacrifice three or four days of my summer for it. And a vacation. Which I’m sorry for. But what’s done is done, and I still would rather be drawing.
(As for my GPA and college, there is concern, but I, this may so like arrogant teenager speaking and it may be, usually figure something out in situations like these. I have another year. I’ll make good grades. And see where that gets me. Otherwise, it’s just a couple classes. If I have to do it again, I’ll do it again. If I can’t make it into college, I’ll figure something else out. Sure life will be a little harder, but really, it’d be hard either way.)
-Middlest, the Oblivious
And there you have it! Motpg.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Hi, I am Middlest, as described in several of my mom’s posts. Yes, I did fail AP Lang. Yes, I refused to do my work. Yes, I drew instead of working with people who dislike me greatly (my teacher Constantly placed me in a group with these particular individuals who didn't even understand what we were working on). I don't like analyzing things, because, honestly, I highly doubt the writer intended that rock or hairbrush to have any real significant meaning. Also, as my mom said, I finished the reading assignments in days. The teacher didn't even give us the assignments to go along with it until she decided we were at that particular point. This bothers me greatly. I finish a book, I remember the main and even average details. Then two months later she tests me on "what shoes were Daisy wearing and why were they significant to the story". I find this utterly ridiculous. But, really, it isn’t even as simple as that. My frustration is deeply seeded.
I have always been a reader; I love books and words passionately. I can read up to three books (average sized, 200 page range) a day if I’m in the mood. I’ve probably spent more time reading than anything else. At some point I discovered writing. The first instance was in the third grade, when my teacher adored a story I wrote. I didn’t think much of it then, I just wrote like my then favorite author, Brian Jacques (side confession, I still read his books). Then in sixth grade, I wrote a poem in my Language Arts class. My teacher (a lovely woman who I still admire and look up to) had me read it in front of the class. When I finished, she said “It looks like we have a poet in the class”. Something clicked. I began to write and write and write. Nonstop. I loved it. I’d found a new way to use the words I loved so dearly. My teacher put me into her advanced writing class. (I attended a middle school designed for the arts, though I was there for orchestra, having been a cellist back then.) She became my idol and I went out of my way to impress her. I wanted her to praise my writing. It made me feel accomplished at something. She seemed to enjoy my work, which just fed my love for writing.
So, as most of the kids in my writing class did, I decided to go the arts high school for writing. I thought it would be the same and my teachers would be just as lovely as my wonderful mentor. But I quickly discovered how wrong I was. Where I had freedom in middle school, I was placed in a box here. My new writing teacher was a rather odd, scary man who preached contemporary writing. Everything was cliché, using big, beautiful words was a sin in his writing congregation. My writing freedom was yanked from beneath my feet. There I had to copy other writers who, in my opinion, were quite awful. The poetry I used to enjoy became torture, for I knew the next day it would be torn to shreds by competitive, arrogant freshmen who wanted to please the almighty King of Contemporary Literature. Here is where my hatred for every pin and thimble having sacred meaning became rooted. We were required to have“intent” with every piece. Slowly but surely, I began to cringe at the very thing I had loved.
I was also in an essay writing class, with a different teacher. The Grammar-Nazi Supreme. I’ve never been one for non-fiction, so I was already out of my comfort zone. She decided to “deprogram” us from standardized testing essay styles we’d been taught all our lives. So, were we to return to normal society where standardized testing ruled, we would be inevitably doomed. I didn’t do well in the class, and her constant criticism, telling me I didn’t want to be there, wilted and broke me down.
So, due to my stubborn nature and hatred for this confined box they kept me in, I ended up failing out of the school. I entered our local public school. (Having spent four years in the sheltered world of the magnet program, I was terrified.)
Now, two years later, I have failed AP Lang, much to the surprise of everyone. Simply, I didn’t want to do it anymore. I spent the first nine weeks kissing butt and showing off. For the first time, I received no acknowledgement for knowing my way around the English world. I could spend whole class periods being the only one to answer questions, but still there was not even a smile from the woman at the head of the class. So I shut down. I already knew most of what was being taught, so doing the work didn’t bring me any sense of accomplishment. I usually looked to praise in order to achieve that. In the absence of praise, I didn’t see the point in bothering anymore. I read the assigned books. I took the tests. That was the extent of it though. I could get much more satisfaction out of the two hours by drawing something beautiful, rather than reading and “analyzing” yet another essay on feminism or eating babies.
So, I admit to failing, and it being my fault. But I’m not ashamed of failing. It’s not because I’m stupid. Or I didn’t understand. The class just went too slowly for my taste. If I bothered to do the work it took me a matter of minutes. There is no achievement in it, so there was no point. I felt it was a waste of time, and yes, I did have to sacrifice three or four days of my summer for it. And a vacation. Which I’m sorry for. But what’s done is done, and I still would rather be drawing.
(As for my GPA and college, there is concern, but I, this may so like arrogant teenager speaking and it may be, usually figure something out in situations like these. I have another year. I’ll make good grades. And see where that gets me. Otherwise, it’s just a couple classes. If I have to do it again, I’ll do it again. If I can’t make it into college, I’ll figure something else out. Sure life will be a little harder, but really, it’d be hard either way.)
-Middlest, the Oblivious
And there you have it! Motpg.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Guest Post! Our Hidden Secrets To Raising Teens.
Please Welcome..
Nicole from Help!Mama Remote... who is a Bloggy Blessing to me by Guest posting, as I have been working out of town and leave again tomorrow for some more work on the project.
I love reading her blog because she is always Real and Being Herself and that is one funny, wise and admirable woman! And of course..An Awesome Mom!
And so.......
I'd like to take this time and thank MOTPG for giving me this opportunity of being her guest blogger today. MOTPG was my first commentor when I started my blog last year. Not only did she comment but she came back! WooHoo! I'm also a faithful reader here. Here I receive encouragement and strength while raising my children. Thanks MOTPG for you encouraging posts.
Our Hidden Secrets To Raising Teens
I'm also a mom of a teenage daughter along with a 10 yr & a 2yr old. I've always envied moms that have their children close in age. However I do believe it was for my own sanity, that I didn't.
Being the mom of a teenager can be challenging at times but not as challenging as, I was to my mom.(Shhh don't tell) Not only is my teen a girl (Ewww), she's an athlete. Which I can admit I do believe that is the reason she's not as challenging as I was(No time for an idol mind).
Growing up I didn't KNOW who God had created me to be. Therefore I allowed people to dictate who I was. So, often I encourage her to KNOW who God has created her to be and not allow people to dictate, who she is.
We all have our secret struggles that we'll never tell our children. But....actually, we tell all our secrets....they are hidden in our love, warnings, joy, when we chastise , encouragement & praise.
Now they must find them, use them and pass them on to their children.
Nicole's blog is Help! Mama Remote... Where she blogs about her personal life as a wife, mom and business owner.
Nicole from Help!Mama Remote... who is a Bloggy Blessing to me by Guest posting, as I have been working out of town and leave again tomorrow for some more work on the project.
I love reading her blog because she is always Real and Being Herself and that is one funny, wise and admirable woman! And of course..An Awesome Mom!
And so.......
I'd like to take this time and thank MOTPG for giving me this opportunity of being her guest blogger today. MOTPG was my first commentor when I started my blog last year. Not only did she comment but she came back! WooHoo! I'm also a faithful reader here. Here I receive encouragement and strength while raising my children. Thanks MOTPG for you encouraging posts.
Our Hidden Secrets To Raising Teens
I'm also a mom of a teenage daughter along with a 10 yr & a 2yr old. I've always envied moms that have their children close in age. However I do believe it was for my own sanity, that I didn't.
Being the mom of a teenager can be challenging at times but not as challenging as, I was to my mom.(Shhh don't tell) Not only is my teen a girl (Ewww), she's an athlete. Which I can admit I do believe that is the reason she's not as challenging as I was(No time for an idol mind).
Growing up I didn't KNOW who God had created me to be. Therefore I allowed people to dictate who I was. So, often I encourage her to KNOW who God has created her to be and not allow people to dictate, who she is.
We all have our secret struggles that we'll never tell our children. But....actually, we tell all our secrets....they are hidden in our love, warnings, joy, when we chastise , encouragement & praise.
Now they must find them, use them and pass them on to their children.
Nicole's blog is Help! Mama Remote... Where she blogs about her personal life as a wife, mom and business owner.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Guest Post by Littlest
I am unfortunately being cursed with a back spasm that goes full throttle if I sit at the computer more than 5 minutes and Littlest has volunteered to contribute. She wrote this as an assigment for school, she didn't actually follow the directions which were to create a synopsis of an emotion using satire, being my child she twisted the assignment to suit herself but she thought that it might be useful information for all of the parents out there.
If you are not familiar with Littlest yet she is 14, a high school freshman who is already diligently mapping out a plan for college where she will major in psychology or psychiatry and minor in writing. She has already earned an Honorary Doctorate in Silly. As her sisters say she was born 30 (which makes her emotionally and intellectually the same age as me, but I think she is actually smarter than me) and totally dry. To get a head start on her career she has begun her own clinical analysis with the subjects most near at hand, her sisters. She says her thesis is not compromised by little sisterliness. Hmm.....
I refuse to consider the prospect that she chose her future career so that she could figure out what's wrong with us. That said......
Stupid Teenager Disorder
Stupid teenager disorder is a widely known issue in our world today. It ranges from being unable to remove ones self from the couch no matter what the circumstances may be. To staying out all night partying. It of course is a very serious problem that must be fixed immediately.
A very important question to ask is how you know if you have this common disorder. Well, there are many kinds of Stupid Teenager Disorder. There is the Brainlessly Believing Your in Love Disorder, The Living Couch Potato Disorder, The Facebook/Myspace is My Life Disorder, The If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I jump Disorder, the I Know Best Disorder, and many, many more.
One of the most common disorders you’ll see is the Brainlessly Thinking Your in Love Disorder. Hard to spot at first, it is well hidden but soon becomes very clear within days. It’s commonly known as an obsessive crush. The Symptoms are Believing He/She is “the one” after only a very short period of time, talking about Him/Her to an obnoxious extent, texting Him/Her so often that they can’t carry a conversation with anyone else, and becoming very defensive if the issue is brought up to them. This direct symptom is short lived for the most part, but has a tendency for reoccurrence with every boy/girl friend.
The Living Couch Potato Disorder might just be the most widely known to almost everyone, and is found in up to 85% of people, age ranging from thirteen to early to mid twenties. Commonly known as laziness, Living Couch Potato Disorder usually causes ones legs and butt to almost physically form into their couch, it makes ones brain go fuzzy making it easier for them to ignore orders and other such. And the only way that they will be unearthed from this state is to go get food and other such waste that adds to the growing of the potato-ness.
The Facebook/Myspace is my life disorder is the problem of not being able to remove ones self from the screen. These people have a tendency to revolve around their computers and web enabled phones. Everything they do is constantly updated onto their wall or profile. It can come to such extents that their entire social life is Facebook/Myspace. This disorder is related to Living Couch Potato Disorder, and they can usually occur in unison.
Then there is the If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I Jump disorder. This is a very serious disorder, also known as peer pressure. This disorder can be the most troublesome. It makes one act and think only as a group, and takes place in things that may be against ones individual morals. It may start small as maybe just laughing at a joke that wasn’t funny and possibly offensive just to fit in. This can lead to many unhealthy behaviors that are hard to drive away. This disorder is best dealt with in its early stages to remove future issues.
The last is the I Know Best Disorder. Widely known as a rebellious stage, I Know Best Disorder is common and doesn’t last forever. It’s hard to treat and may seem to thrive if left undisturbed. But poking at this issue may cause outburst of anger to occur. The disorder needs to be kept under a watchful eye just in case an intervention of some sort is necessary, for it can easily turn into the If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I Jump Disorder. Its symptoms are questioning authority in ones home, refusal to listen to advice, causing unneeded problems, and is usually accompanied by a never ending bad attitude. This problem will solve itself after a time, but is very long lasting.
Stupid Teenager Disorder is wide spread and found in almost every teenager. Almost every kind of this disorder is accompanied by a bad attitude when asked to go against the disorders symptoms. Each disorder causes one to be defensive about their issue and to most likely deny or ignore the situation. Stupid Teenager Disorder is treatable and will usually wear off after about six to eight years give or take depending one the person.
By: The Littlest
So there you have it. From a horse's mouth, so to speak. Any questions?
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
If you are not familiar with Littlest yet she is 14, a high school freshman who is already diligently mapping out a plan for college where she will major in psychology or psychiatry and minor in writing. She has already earned an Honorary Doctorate in Silly. As her sisters say she was born 30 (which makes her emotionally and intellectually the same age as me, but I think she is actually smarter than me) and totally dry. To get a head start on her career she has begun her own clinical analysis with the subjects most near at hand, her sisters. She says her thesis is not compromised by little sisterliness. Hmm.....
I refuse to consider the prospect that she chose her future career so that she could figure out what's wrong with us. That said......
Stupid Teenager Disorder
Stupid teenager disorder is a widely known issue in our world today. It ranges from being unable to remove ones self from the couch no matter what the circumstances may be. To staying out all night partying. It of course is a very serious problem that must be fixed immediately.
A very important question to ask is how you know if you have this common disorder. Well, there are many kinds of Stupid Teenager Disorder. There is the Brainlessly Believing Your in Love Disorder, The Living Couch Potato Disorder, The Facebook/Myspace is My Life Disorder, The If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I jump Disorder, the I Know Best Disorder, and many, many more.
One of the most common disorders you’ll see is the Brainlessly Thinking Your in Love Disorder. Hard to spot at first, it is well hidden but soon becomes very clear within days. It’s commonly known as an obsessive crush. The Symptoms are Believing He/She is “the one” after only a very short period of time, talking about Him/Her to an obnoxious extent, texting Him/Her so often that they can’t carry a conversation with anyone else, and becoming very defensive if the issue is brought up to them. This direct symptom is short lived for the most part, but has a tendency for reoccurrence with every boy/girl friend.
The Living Couch Potato Disorder might just be the most widely known to almost everyone, and is found in up to 85% of people, age ranging from thirteen to early to mid twenties. Commonly known as laziness, Living Couch Potato Disorder usually causes ones legs and butt to almost physically form into their couch, it makes ones brain go fuzzy making it easier for them to ignore orders and other such. And the only way that they will be unearthed from this state is to go get food and other such waste that adds to the growing of the potato-ness.
The Facebook/Myspace is my life disorder is the problem of not being able to remove ones self from the screen. These people have a tendency to revolve around their computers and web enabled phones. Everything they do is constantly updated onto their wall or profile. It can come to such extents that their entire social life is Facebook/Myspace. This disorder is related to Living Couch Potato Disorder, and they can usually occur in unison.
Then there is the If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I Jump disorder. This is a very serious disorder, also known as peer pressure. This disorder can be the most troublesome. It makes one act and think only as a group, and takes place in things that may be against ones individual morals. It may start small as maybe just laughing at a joke that wasn’t funny and possibly offensive just to fit in. This can lead to many unhealthy behaviors that are hard to drive away. This disorder is best dealt with in its early stages to remove future issues.
The last is the I Know Best Disorder. Widely known as a rebellious stage, I Know Best Disorder is common and doesn’t last forever. It’s hard to treat and may seem to thrive if left undisturbed. But poking at this issue may cause outburst of anger to occur. The disorder needs to be kept under a watchful eye just in case an intervention of some sort is necessary, for it can easily turn into the If My Friends Tell Me to Jump, I Jump Disorder. Its symptoms are questioning authority in ones home, refusal to listen to advice, causing unneeded problems, and is usually accompanied by a never ending bad attitude. This problem will solve itself after a time, but is very long lasting.
Stupid Teenager Disorder is wide spread and found in almost every teenager. Almost every kind of this disorder is accompanied by a bad attitude when asked to go against the disorders symptoms. Each disorder causes one to be defensive about their issue and to most likely deny or ignore the situation. Stupid Teenager Disorder is treatable and will usually wear off after about six to eight years give or take depending one the person.
By: The Littlest
So there you have it. From a horse's mouth, so to speak. Any questions?
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
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