Mothers, Daughters Something Like the Circle of Life and a Fun Surprise at the Bottom of the Box

I started writing this post in the middle of last week but I didn't have time to finish. Which was a good thing. Because it wasn't finished. Events unfolded that changed the whole direction. Brought it around in a circle so to speak. Something like the circle of life : )

No it isn't Mothers Day. It also isn't the anniversary of my mothers death, which is in September.   And it isn't my mothers birthday. That was actually in mid March and I totally forgot because it was the day I had drive downtown and cross two bridges to take Littlest to the Orthopedic Specialist to get a cast on a broken hand.  So I was very distracted and knowing my mother, I'm sure, I hope, she would completely understand and forgive me. I felt horrible the next day when I realized I'd forgotten.

 One of my mothers favorite movies was, I Remember Mama. I always liked it too. And I liked the books she shared with me. And going shopping. We shared that too.  I was the baby of the family and we spent a lot of time together.  From the time I was very small I remember following her around the mall. eating at Piccadilly. Next we would have ice cream by the fountain and I would get a penny to throw in with a wish. Then she would dip a napkin in the fountain and give me a good scrub right in the middle of the mall. My parents continued to spoil me from time to time long after I was grown. Something pretty for my house. New pots and pans. A new outfit. Always a new outfit or some awesome shoes that I looked at longingly in the store. And the grandbabies brought on a new round of spoiling because there was nothing my mom liked better than loading up the stroller and hitting the children's department to find pretty things for the girls. Then we would go to lunch. This was a pattern from my earliest childhood all the way into my thirties. That's how I remember my Mama. I miss my mother so much but, unlike other lost members of my family, I don't even have a special date or time of year that I think of her or write about my memories of her. She is always present in my life as though she isn't really gone. Her voice echoing in my ear. "You're Welcome. I Love You. "Can she hear, Thank You, I Love You too? I think so. And sometimes I think I catch a glimpse, a little message that she is still being my mom. March was a very eventful month for our family and I know she is looking out for us. And perhaps she was getting my attention. Letting me know that motherhood doesn't end and I had more work ahead of me.

Last week during spring break I took Littlest shopping. She desperately needed new jeans and also some shorts for summer. Since Middlest is a 'grown up' now I didn't take her with us. She buys her own things. But I found myself missing bringing her along too. It is much quieter these days with only the baby of the family to shop for. To be honest I was a little irritable and not really in the mood. I left her in the Juniors section and wandered off to the grown up clothes but within minutes my phone rang. "Where are you? Come back and help me." I heaved a sigh. Fiiine. Then she gave me a guilt trip about how this was the last time I ever had to buy clothes for her and she would be gone in November and I wouldn't have to do this anymore. I noticed she was holding a pale blue sundress that definitely wasn't on the list but she smiled and said, "It's Amazing!" "Yes, I replied, but you don't need it. " I know, she said, I just want to try it on for fun and see how it looks on me."  After awhile she was ready for the dressing room which is a place that often makes me want to strangle her but I leaned against the wall and waited..and waited..and waited ; ).for her to pop out with each outfit and give her my opinion. The first thing that popped out was the blue dress accessorized with a smile like a beacon. "Yeah, that looks cute on you," I told her.

 As I held up the wall a blond woman in her early thirties came in with a couple of things and closed her stall door. A short time later a heavy set woman in the sixtyish range popped her head in and looked around and called out a name. Around the corner the blond woman peeked out but didn't see anyone. I told the older woman she was around the corner and she came in holding a few more blouses. Finding what was obviously her daughters changing room she went in with her. I half listened as they chatted about each outfit. The daughter trying to decide what she liked best. The mom making suggestions, mentioning that one top would look good with her daughters jeans skirt and you could never go wrong with a jeans skirt and finally hinting that they all would do. The door opened and the mom walked out with the hand full of hangers. Her daughter followed close behind. As she passed me the younger woman quietly said, Thanks Mom, to her mothers departing back. You're welcome hon, she casually threw back over her shoulder with a smile. They disappeared into the store. And I...I felt like something precious had been ripped out of me. And I started crying. Right there in the middle of the damn changing rooms, tears started to trickle down my face and I couldn't stop them. Because I missed my mom. I missed her more than anything in this world. I remembered the little smile and sparkle in her eye when she would say, "I'll get it for you." "No Mom!", I would protest but she would answer, "I want to." I recognized that almost embarrassed thankfulness in the daughters voice. Something that we may feel as adults when we are reminded that our parents never really stop caring for us. As well as the muted joy in the mothers voice that she has done something for her child to show her love. That she still enjoys spoiling her a little. Because no matter how old we are we are our mothers 'babies.' Our mothers always love us. You never stop having a mom or being one.

Littlest came out and I told her to hold up a second before we went back in the store. She looked up at me, and immediately concerned, asked what happened. I felt ridiculous but told her and My Baby, my Littlest, stood in the middle of the dressing room with a cast on one hand and an armload of clothes in the other and gave me a huge hug. "I'm sorry", she said,  I love you." I said, I love you too." Even though I felt even more ridiculous crying with her clutching me to the point of nearly knocking me over in the middle of a department store changing room. And she is a sweetheart. And it won't be long before she isn't there to give me hugs awkward or otherwise.

I've been focused on the endings. The fact that my youngest child will be graduating soon and will be gone in the fall. I've been thinking, with some delight, of the sudden freedom that will bring. After 26 years of parenting it will be over. Because I'll be finished. And mixed with my delight at that freedom is some sadness. Because I'll be finished. And because my mom isn't here to see how everything is turning out.
 Though I sometimes feel I miss that mother daughter relationship in my life, the truth of it is, though the circumstances have been spun around, I still have one, don't I? I have three. I just needed to be reminded.

 As we left the store I heard Littlest, "Thank You". I smiled, "You're Welcome."
 And you can bet your ass she had that blue dress in the bag : )

Later in the week Middlest was in tears because she needed new clothes and didn't want to get into her savings. Then her tax return check showed up so I suggested that we go shopping. Just us. Something that was rare the entire time she was growing up. I enjoyed watching her model her outfits. I could relish that though she is 'growing' away into an adult. She isn't 'going' away. Not just yet. She's always been the easiest to shop with and we oohed and ahhed over dresses we had no place to wear but would if we did. As we waited in the check out line she nodded at me to look behind me. I heard the excited banter and joking tones. It was some grandparents. I turned around to see an impeccably dressed gray haired women holding a large Horton (Horton Hears a Who) and a jolly grandpa loaded with baby paraphernalia, obviously on a grand baby shopping spree, followed by a young woman with a tiny baby in a sling. Middlest became giggly. And I? I teared up again, only just slightly, in the middle of the same damn department store. This time over grandparents and babies. Because a couple days before.....

Biggest called.
 She said: There are two pink lines on this thing but the second one is a little blurry.
What does that mean?

SURPRISE!

It means that in November when My Littlest will be graduating from boot camp and leaving home for good, someone else will be arriving.  It means that while my first baby will always be my baby, she isn't a baby anymore. And I have come full circle.

We were working out of town on Monday. When we arrived at our hotel I glanced at our room number. 313. And that, that is my mothers birthday: )



© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

The Day Harry Didn't Come.

She came to me, asking, "Can you help me with my hair?"

"Of course."

She looked very neat and pretty in a striped blouse and slacks. Her makeup was lightly and neatly applied. Just a whisper of blush, a slip a frosted peach lipstick. I pulled out the brush and helped turn her bob under using a curling iron. She fussed and picked until it fell just right and I sprayed it all down with Final Net. Then she fussed and picked some more and I wandered away to let her finish. After awhile she appeared in the kitchen with her purse on her shoulder.

Have you seen Harry, she asked?

Um, no,why?

He's supposed to pick me up.
 

I don't know. I haven't heard anything. I didn't think he was coming today.

He was supposed to come and now he's late.
 

I can't help but be curious, so I ask,

Where were you going?

Oh, you know, what's it called? A touch of frustration wrinkles her forehead.

That place. That place we always go.

Oh yeah, I answer, well as far as I know he isn't coming today. Maybe we'll hear from him later.
I'm sorry.

He's probably with that woman.

I'm shocked for a moment by that brow raising statement and ask,

What woman?

You know. That one. That floozy! He's probably off traipsing around having a grand old time with that tramp!

She flops on the kitchen chair, slapping her purse down, her brow furrowed and mouth set in an angry staright line.

Oh my. This is injustice. I feel it keenly in my heart. This is not fair. It is untrue. But I can't say what's true. I can't tell her why Harry will not be arriving. She is too fragile for this news. This is something she cannot handle at this point in her life. It isn't the right time. It will never be the right time. But I can't bring myself to cause her this pain. Harry would not be coming. Harry was dead.

My husband had come in the room and was listening.

What's wrong,? he asked her.

She started to cry. Harry was supposed to come get me. We were going out and now he's not coming and I got all dressed and ready to go for nothing.

I look at my husband, helpless, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say.

He stood you up? he asked her.

Yes, she smacked her fist on the table. I was looking forward to it all week.

What a jerk, my husband exclaimed, telling you you were going out and then standing you up!

My eyes widened in shock. What on earth was he doing?

Yeah, you're right she replied angrily. He is a jerk. I bet he's with some other girl.

Seems to me you don't need a jerk like that, he said. There's plenty of other guys. Why should you care about going out with someone who would treat you that way. Forget him!

 I guess you're right, she sighed. But I really wanted to go.

Would you like to go out to the store with me in a little while, my kind husband asked my 80 year old mother, since you're already dressed?

She smiled, Sure, let's go!

Good, he smiled back, who needs Harry anyway?

 Puzzled, her face scrunched with confusion, she looked at him like he was nuts and asked,

Who the Hell is Harry?
 

Just one day in our life and one of the funny moments from the time we spent with my mother and Alzheimer's. My father, Harry, had been dead for seven years - and was never known to run around with floozies either. What he didn't know was that, for all her fussing, sometimes she would have a date with somebody else ; ) They never showed up either. Despite the  delusions  caused by her illness, she loved my father very much

My mother passed away in 2008 just two days before what would have been their 59th wedding anniversary.  I'm pretty sure he was there to pick her up : )

November is National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month.

For information or to help you can visit here: alz.org

Another great place for information is here: www.alzheimers.gov


Offer support however you can. Donate. Participate. Hug an Alzheimer's patient-even have a chat with them-it's an interesting place to visit ; ) And if you know a Caregiver please offer your support, and Hugs...and Chocolate....
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If I don't reply to comments right away, I didn't forget you! I'll be going out of town for a little while. I'll be able to read comments but may not be able to reply, if not, I'll catch you when I get back.
Don't forget me either...eat some blueberries or something...



© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

The Sweep Stakes Were High at My House

I was laying on the couch watching television in my usual posture. On my side, arm bent to cradle my head in my hand, top leg bent at the knee and held in the crook of my elbow. I was eleven. It was Saturday morning. I don't know what I was watching but I'm sure I wasn't really interested in it either. I was avoiding. The voice called from somewhere in the house, yet again, "Clean your room." I remained silent. My mother appeared. Each day of the week she left a messy house behind, impeccably dressed and coiffed for work,  and came home to the same clutter to sit on the couch and throw her shoes off, unhook her bra and magically remove it, draping it over the couch. Weekends were usually spent escaping the mess.  My mother was always ready to get out of the house and go somewhere rather than deal with it. Then suddenly she would be overcome with a cleaning frenzy. But. As happened every so often without warning my mom was fed up. It was a Capital Letters Cleaning Day. She stood before me in ugly gray stretchy shorts and old t shirt. Her hair haphazardly pushed back with a band.  "Get in there and clean that room!"
I will, I answered flatly, staring at the TV screen and making no move beyond rocking my bent leg a bit. Now! she yelled. I will in a minute, I repeated, for about the fifth time that morning. I was being a brat. My mother swooped on the room picking up handfuls of clutter in a whirlwind. Thrown into sudden and full onset raging menopause by a hysterectomy, she had already in recent weeks, broken  dishes in the sink, shockingly used to F word, and her reaction to my dads Christmas gift of new pots and pans guaranteed something gorgeous under the tree for her the rest of his life.

I should have known better.

My room was a daunting task I wished to avoid. With the exception of my neatly arranged bookshelf, everything was chaos. I don't remember exactly what was in there. I do know I couldn't see the floor. I recall making an Olympic medal worthy jump from the door to my bed at night to avoid injury.

She threatened again. "If you don't clean that room I'm going to throw everything in it away." I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes. "I'll do it! ...later...."I resumed my concentration on...I don't know...probably Wild Kingdom...it was getting that late in the morning.

A short time later, I heard a lot of noise coming from the back of the house. "Geez, what's she doing now? Cleaning out the closets? It sounded rather violent. Due to recent events,  I decided it was wise to stay out of the way. Besides, if she wore herself out she'd forget about my room. Then a bizarre, long swishing sound on our wooden floors,  followed my clanking and bumping noises, began to descend the hall. "What the heck?" It would stop for a moment and then resume, louder than before.
 And Then...

Suddenly a mountain of clothing and objects came pouring through the door to the living room. MY clothing and My Stuff,  like lava exploding through a crevice and flowing freely over the living room floor. The mountain continued into the middle of the room, being propelled by the huge push broom we used to clear the driveway and front walk. My mother pulled back, gripping tight,  and with a forceful shove cleared the doorway.  She walked to the front door and opened it wide. I stood up from the couch, finally distracted from the TV.  "What are you doing?" I cried out, full of righteous indignation. "You can't do that! I said I would do it!" My mother ignored me. With a mighty heave she pushed the entire contents of my bedroom out the front door across the porch and into the front yard.

I was speechless.

She Was Grand.


The moral of this story being, of course, that I then had to pick up everything and return it to my room neatly. This incident created a lasting impression on me as a child, no doubt, but it has evolved into a fond memory. It created respect and admiration and awe. Even though I've been a mother for a long time, Mothers Day for me is still about my mother.  She died in 2008 but I still feel like the title belongs to her.  I may get some perks on that day but the throne is reserved for My Mom.


I wish all of you moms out there a HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

Relax. Have Fun! Collect Your Due Regards. Be Grand : )


© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

It Has Arrived

I soon will spend days longing for rain, to take the sting out of the onset of the heat. It will be 90 degrees this second day of April.  Spring,  always heralded by the blooming Ligustrum, the scent reaching into the farthest corners of my brain. Tiny white blossoms blasting their damn poison in to every pore of my body, a plant that drives me to depression.  It only took me to the age of eleven to realize it. Each year as they flanked the front porch of my childhood home and sneakily popped into bloom my head would ache. My limbs feel heavy and encumbered, my thoughts becoming fuzzy and unfocused. Then the sadness loomed, overwhelming and all encompassing.

My mother would ask, "What’s wrong?"

  "I don't feel well". “My head hurts.”  “I'm tired."

"It must be the Ligustrum", she would say.

One day as I sat on the brick steps feeling like I was drowning in the thickness of my own lethargy, the sweet smell enveloping my head, I spied my fathers hedge clippers propped against the iron railings and the solution was as clear and immediate to me as breaking the surface of black water to find pure oxygen waiting.

When she came home, my mother eyed the bruised white carcasses strewn across the walkway and asked sharply,

"What did you do?"

I braced myself. Willing to accept my sentence to uphold my principles I looked her straight in the eye.

   "I killed them."

She stared for a moment at the hacked hedge. Her mouth seemed to twitch ever so slightly and I waited.  I waited for her eyes to narrow in anger.  Waited for her to grit her teeth and begin the tirade. Waited for her voice.  Her  lash of choice.  I stood waiting and then…..

She simply looked back at me for a moment, then turned nodding her head, and without another word walked up the stairs and into the house.

He said: I bought eight of these bushes to plant out front. They get about ten feet high so they will make a great privacy hedge. They grow fast and they are supposed to get little flowers on them in the spring.
When he saw my face he said: They aren't Ligustrum. The tag says something else.

I said: They look like Ligustrum. That's just a general name. There are different varieties.

No, he said, They're not Ligustrum.

Ligustrum (Japanese Privet)

Sometimes I miss the hell out of my mother.

© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Life Is But A Dream

Sometimes we are given little gifts in this life.  Tiny stitches looped far apart are pulled together and the fabric of our lives gathers around us in a snug finished piece. A gift homemade with memories and still warm from the arms of a loved one,  pressed into our hand as we say goodbye as a token to remember them by.

My mother loved a sing along. My closest brother in age was nine years older than me and the brother that I lived with at home the longest. We were the ones who sang. A recurrent theme through my childhood was my mother asking us to sing for her and with her. And we did. From my earliest memories I can see her, mostly in the kitchen, dancing and singing away. Old songs, War songs, Children's songs, Silly songs most of all. When I was still very young, I remember her stopping and saying to me, "Come on, I'll teach you to sing a round." "Sing, Row Row Row Your Boat", she instructed. I began and shortly after she followed. It took me awhile to get it. But before I knew it we were singing a round and having a grand time. The first of many times we would do so. Any chance she got she would ask me to 'round' Row Your Boat, with her. No matter how old I was I never tired of hearing her repertoire and joining in too as we would happily

Row Row Row...


September 2008
She never had any idea who we were when we visited but she was always happy to see us. She was eighty years old. She would smile and chat nonsense with all of her social graces intact. She had come to the point where most of the time it was a string of words rather than actual sentences. But one day, when I came in she was sitting motionless in a chair. Lethargic. This was unusual. I braced myself for reaching the next level. It was just so sudden. Then the nurse called me over and told me she had been getting ready to contact us. Something was wrong. Physically. This was the cause of the change, not the Alzheimer's. After tests were done we found she was having internal bleeding from the colon. My mother had a "No Heroic Measures" Directive but the gastrointerologist said they would check it out. There was no cancer. A small tear. It was repaired. It went very well they said. No problem but they couldn't be sure it wouldn't happen again.  But when I visited her back at the nursing home the next day,  she was lying in bed and did not wake at all during my visit. She was so pale and still. You could barely see her breath rise and fall. Her arm was swollen. The skin stretched tight. She had developed a blood clot. She was being given blood thinner but we were told to be prepared. I realized then I might never see her up again. Might possibly never see her open her eyes. It could be over at any time. They told my brother he needed to sign some papers. Even with my mothers instructions already in place they wanted back up paperwork showing that the directives were understood by the family. I could tell he did not not like this job. All I could do was be there with him for support.

The next morning I met with my brother in the lobby. After he  finished the paperwork we climbed on the elevator to go check on our mom. At the end of the hall I entered the room, expecting to see my mother lying there, much like the day before. There was no one in the room. Panic immediately set in. I turned to my brother, "She's not here!" Where is our mother? We hurried down the hall to the nurses station with frightened thoughts flashing through my brain. Had it already happened? Did they forget to tell us? What did they do with our mom?

"Mrs. --?, said the attendant, she's right over there in the common room, we got her up today."

You What?

I turned and my eyes frantically searched the room. There she was. My brother and I looked at each other in confusion and disbelief. What the heck was going on here?  Our mother was dangerously ill.

 "Hey mom", we came to see you".  She seemed perfectly fine physically. There was no swelling visible in her arm at all. The clot was not there. I don't know who we were that day, but she was glad we came. Her bright blue eyes were shining and clear. Her smile quick. We did the usual, asking how she was, telling her what was going on with us and she answered politely even though she had no idea what we were talking about. Her hair was a mess. My mother was always extremely picky about her hair and I couldn't stand to see it that way, knowing how upset she would have been if she was aware of it. I  stood, pulling my brush out of my bag to try to smooth it down. She loved having her hair brushed and now she did as she always had, closing her eyes and leaning her head back to enjoy it.  My brother and I kept exchanging glances of bewilderment.
  This was an Alzheimer's unit and the elderly people who were still mobile began to congregate near the front of the room where a young woman with a camp counselor voice boomed out that it was time for everyone to gather around. My mother was distracted from our visit. It had been a very long time since I had seen the mother I loved and the woman who was my dear friend. She had been confused, sometimes incoherent, angry, in tears, like a child and serenely polite, but never my mom anymore.
  My brother and I whispered that it would be a good time to go. We both had kids to pick up from school soon. The camp counselor for the aged called out in a rousing tone, come on everyone, it's time for sing along! My mother looked toward the others lined up in their chairs ready to clap and sing.  Her eyes lit up and she smiled, " Oh Boy!" We told her, "I guess we will go now,  mom. You go have fun."  She turned to us her eyes alight, No, you don't have to go yet do you?  Come on! You sing too! I flashed through the years to our old kitchen. "Come on. You sing too."  My brother and I shrugged and sat back down. Just like a preschool class the gray haired children around us clapped their hands and raised their voices. Children's songs. They all still knew the words. "Okay, it's time for Row Your Boat" their leader cried.
I watched my brother, the one who all our lives had been lively and musical and full of fun. I watched him change from the posture of stress and sadness, and grin. My mother sang, she tapped her feet. We laughed. We sang. Loud and clear we joined the boisterous choir rowing in our chairs. We rowed along our mirth and our mothers joy and memories and miracles.

Merrily Merrily Merrily......

It was time to go. "You have to go now?" my mother asked politely but cheerfully as we rose. "Yes. Do you want to move up closer to the others?"  "No. I'm fine here."  Hugs and kisses. I love you. I love you. I love you too. I will see you soon. She forgot we were there before we even reached the end of the room. We got on the elevator and as we waited for the doors to close, I turned to watch my mother. Framed in the opening, she sat erect in her straight back chair. For a moment she frowned,  rubbing her hands together nervously. She looked lost. I felt as strong a pull as I have ever felt in my life. I want to go back. I want to stay. I want my mother. The doors began to close and I almost reached to push the button and get off again but at that moment the next song began and she perked up with a smile. As the doors closed over my view she once again began to sing along. I decided to let it be. We had a nice afternoon.  And my children would be waiting soon, for their mother.
 It had been a very long time since the three of us sang together. I have no clear memory of how the room around us looked. It was full of people who are a background blur. I hear the voices. Like when we were children, our world in that hour revolved around our mother. We sang with our mother that day. We had a good time with her.  Best of all, so did she.

When we reached the parking lot my brother and I were fit to be tied. She was doing great! We were totally confused. We could not believe what had just happened. He would need to call the doctors and see what was going on. "I don't know what to do," he said. Our sister had moved to England and had already purchased her plane tickets to hurry home and see our mom.  "I don't think she can get a refund, he said, and I don't know whether she should still come back now or wait." I didn't know either. But it looked like maybe we had all been granted a reprieve. We had certainly been granted a lovely visit with mom.  My sister decided to come home anyway in the end. That was good. I was glad she did. Perhaps my mother could sense somehow that all of her children were close by. Because in the middle of the next night, shortly after my sisters plane landed , with barely a ripple my mother peacefully drifted away in her dreams.

Gently down the stream.


© 2011 All Rights Reserved

Note to Self....

There is no guarantee either way. It might happen. It might not.

Just in case it happens someday..

This is you. These are your babies beyond the scrapbooks. These are the words that you did not always speak but chose to share. This is who you were and those you love at this period of time. I hope you are not desperately searching for them without seeing them in front of your eyes. Your parents are not here. It is most likely your brothers and sisters are gone too. Don't worry, you will see them soon.
Everyone is right, you shouldn't be driving. Those are your pills and you are supposed to take them. Take your shower and listen to them. They love you.

Your mother and your grandmother are not there now. But they were where you are now. Confused. A little lost. Sometimes really pissed off. 

Your grandmothers cheek was like a silk cased feather pillow, dusted with powdered sugar when you rested against it. She used Ponds her whole life. Her voice was a river you floated along in a daydream as a child and you liked the way it sounded when she voiced the name of her sister so much that you named your youngest child the same so that you would continue to hear the voice. When she was young she was a flapper! She was really something. You weren't her favorite. She liked the brown eyed cousins best but that was ok. She lived with them and helped raise them. When this happened to her she had hallucinations of bugs. She would ask people if they could see them.  Her grandmother had spoke German to her as a small child and she had forgotten most of it. One night she woke your uncle's family in the middle of the night yelling at them in fluent German. The mind is a very strange thing. Then she began to wander away from home. She got lost. They had no choice.
You saw what it did to your mom when this happened to your grandmother. You watched as she worked all day and then rushed to the nursing home almost every night. The attendants were washing your grandmothers face with soap. The silk was turning to linen. Coarse and wrinkled, when it began to peel your mother cried. She bought Ponds and would sit on the edge of the bed. Gently, lovingly rubbing the cream into your grandmothers face. Desperately trying to save ....something. Some part of her mother.

Your mother had more lines in her face but not a lot. She took some care. She loved to keep busy. Working, volunteering,  just going somewhere. She was your friend. At first it was ok when it began to happen. You could tell her your favorite stories over and over and she never tired of them.  Everyone joked the first time she put bologna in the freezer and then couldn't find it. It was years before these episodes began to show a consistent pattern. Long before it was obvious she once called, angry at your father because he had given away a special box. Did you have it? No, you don't remember ever seeing it. He just told her she was wrong. He didn't point out that it never existed. He just let her rant it out. After he was gone the problems at work became apparent. This new boss was undermining her. Plotting against her. She should retire. Then she began  searching for the missing little boy. Where did he go? You felt sad because you thought she was missing your brother. He had been a grown man but he was her boy. She knew someone was missing that should not be. More people became missing. Ones who were long gone and the ones in front of her face.
The dead were waited for patiently, with purse in her lap. The family in front of her face, kind strangers. She enjoyed her visit very much but was ready to go home now. My husband and kids are waiting for me. Have you seen my mother?

You saw what it did to all of you when this happened to your mom.

So just in case
you are waiting for your mom right now, just relax. There will be time for that before you know it. Your face will have the most lines. It already does. You did not have the most difficult life. You stayed out in the sun too much. Dummy. Is there a cute old guy around? I bet he'll kiss you if you ask.
Your husband and children have said that if it happens they will keep you home and take care of you. You told them to please put you in a nice facility. This is a personal choice.  You never want to be that kind of burden. You never want your grandchildren to remember a person who was not aware of their love. They can explain it to them all day long. It does not stop the pain.

Read. If you can't remember it is alright. You won't notice the difference.

Feel free to burst into song in public. I insist on it.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved



November is National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month.
Here are some ways you can help.
Visit the Alzheimer's Association Website
Donate
Advocate
Join or start a Memory Walk  in your area.
Or read for more information on Alzheimer's Disease and ways to help further the search for a cure.
The memory you save may be your own....or possibly mine ; )

Equally Important:
If you know someone who is a Caregiver for a loved one with Alzheimer's, Reach Out. Support. Listen.

For Mom

Some Sunday Music.


Because I still don't have the words......

All I have is.....Row Row Row Your Boat......Gently Down The Stream......: )



"Amazing Grace," Chris Tomlin
  Explore more music videos.

U R Gounded....Ms. G. The Wisdom of Mothers..

I am heading towards 45 years old in October. Since I spend a lot of time picking on my teenagers here I thought it might be fun...and only fair... during the upcoming month to spend some time revisiting myself as a teen. Do I remember being a teenager? Yes I do. Vividly. And I have some help with that. Being a pack rat can sometimes be useful. Having a mother who was one also can be useful. I took a little visit to my cardboard box where I have my teen years recorded in poetry.... and the beginning of a (really bad) historical novel that I began when I was 17 and was going to be a writer...or an artist....or a Broadway/rock star....or make a career out of drycleaning...anyway.....

When Biggest was 14 and was starting to go wild she was grounded and of course gave me the line that I "didn't understand."
You know how it goes...you're a fuddy duddy and probably was one of those girls who volunteered to scrape gum off the bottom of the desks for teachers. Yep, that was me....volunteering.....ok

This was my answer to her.
2000
My Dear Biggest,
You have more in common with you're mother than you want to believe. One thing is being a pack rat. This is one time that it has come in handy for me. When you think I don't understand or know exactly what & how you're feeling you are wrong. When you tell me Grandma didn't treat me this way you are wrong. I have proof. Before you read these you must know that I would have said anything to go skating again. Most of it is manipulation to get my own way. It didn't work. Thank God. I am older and wiser now as Grandma was then. We do know where you are coming from. I love you.

I didn't get my response until 5 years later and it is very personal but I shared a very tiny part of it here.

Somewhere around the time I was freaking out because I couldn't believe my child was making such poor decisions my mother gave me these reminders of THE BIG GROUNDING. This would be the one when I was 14 and left the skating rink and went to a party and drank some beer with an unapproved boy. And got Busted by a tipped off, ticked off mother when I returned to the parking lot.

A  Letter From My Mother
1980
Dear Miss G,
If you do not stop talking to Unapproved Boy on the phone and write him off -I am afraid you will never again be allowed to go skating and I will never again trust you. I really don't want that to happen. This would make me unhappy and make you not only unhappy but but might possibly cause you to cheat and lie and cheapen yourself by sneaking around behind my back. You are a beautiful and smart girl. You do not need to waste time on someone who has no regard for your safety or reputation. You deserve better and should aim higher. I love you very much, though you don't seem to think I do - and I'm not an old senile lady who has forgotten what it is like to be young. I AM old enough to have learned  a lot. Some of the things I have learned should help you make the right decisions now. When you are a little older you will have plenty of time to learn things for yourself first hand. You said something about "not being able to handle much beer at your age" ( This is a digression to explain that I believe I had explained that I only drank a tiny amount of beer before I realized my mistake because I was afraid it would hit me me too hard--A' La Richie Cunningham) This is true of many things besides beer. Don't try to be tough and hard. Stay soft and sweet for as long as you can. I love you very much. I will not always be around to watch over you and you won't always need me to. But for now that is how it is. So relax and enjoy life while you can without the complications that come from rushing everything.
Love Mom

My mother was very wise and of course she was right as I realized when I was older.

I also possess my answer to this missive.

1980
Dear Mrs. Mom, ( I actually addressed it to her surname!)
I am afraid you are sadly mistaken. I have not been talking to 'Unapproved boy' and have written him off as you put it. I had not stopped liking him but he has moved away to live with his dad so I figured it was not worth the trouble of fretting over him. I am now in the process of liking: 'different boy' an amazingly adorable hunk that goes to my school. I have even put him above "approved boy" (who was the one that called my house and got me busted) since whenever I go out with him I am just practicing for my hopeful future as an actress. Because all I'm doing is playing a role. Being mature, stiff, fake. Not all the time but most of it.
Skating is the ONLY (I had it underlined) thing I enjoy doing. I love it to such an extent that if I ever went back I wouldn't step foot off the curb in front of the door. For not wanting to keep me from skating and stop trusting me you're doing a pretty good job of making yourself miserable. I don't think I'd readily sneak behind your back because every time I have ventured to do so I've been caught. ( yeah right) Don't you think if I ad left the rink other times somebody would have called? Even though I've almost completely put " unapproved boy' out of my mind I don't appreciate you degrading him. What I did was my own sorry, poor judgement. He was probably a little bit to blame but I am equally responsible and a little bit more so. I realize I don't always do the right things but I can tell for myself when what I did wasn't smart and know better than to do it again. I have made my own decisions in these areas before, successfully for that matter.
Shouldn't I learn something now to be a responsible adult. How will I ever get anywhere being naive? I'm not saying you should let me do what I want or that I was right doing what I did. If you thought that I'd be disappointed in you. (The nerve). I'd be even sadder than I am now because I'd get in alot of trouble (hear the violins?) I'm just like everyone else my age curious and confused (isn't that what the film at school said?) You say someday I won't need you but if you try to keep me from the bad things in life I'll always be here. Always coming to you with everything! (The clincher along with a thinly veiled threat)
I'm trying to enjoy life now but there are complications now too. There's no hiding me from that. I'm not rushing anything. It's all coming at it's own pace.The good and the bad are there. I try to do right. Sometimes I slip. Everyone does. It's only human and punishing someone for being human isn't.

Ms. Very Grounded (age 14)

Recognize me in there? ; )

I'm pretty sure my Mom laughed her ass off when she read this. And yes it is just about the biggest bunch of hooey ever written. Except for one thing. When I went skating, I never stepped off the curb in front of that skating rink and went somewhere else behind her back again.

I would say I was going to the movies.

This knowledge of myself as a teen has made me a wiser parent. It also leads to some of my mistakes as a parent. We have to point them in the right direction. We have to be watchful and aware because we may need to step in. But we can't always prevent them from making mistakes. They do have to learn to make the right choices on their own.

"I am old enough to have learned a lot. Some of the things I have learned should help you make the right decisions now. When you are a little older you will have plenty of time to learn things for yourself first hand."
My mother was right.

"I'm trying to enjoy life now but there are complications now too. There's no hiding me from that"
So was I.


© 2010 All Rights Reserved

My Mom Could Roller Skate

I once devastated my mother by telling her that my friends mother was "a real mom." She had asked me what my new best friends mom "did".
What do you mean a real mom? she had that funny little vertical line thing on her forehead between her eyes thing happening as she asked this. You know, I answered, she stays home and takes care of the kids and her house.
Uh Oh,.... wrong answer. She never forgave me for that comment. She would bring it up years later. After her Alzheimer's had set in I would sometimes catch her looking at me with that same look. She may not have known why but I sometimes thought, she's thinking that she doesn't like me much, she must be getting the vibe from that memory.

She had her first 4 children one after another.  My four older brothers and sisters had a stay at home mom. Four small children at home and at the time no car and a husband away at war.That that may be why I had what in the 1960's and 70's was not an unheard of thing but was much less common than today,  A Working Mom,  and 4 older brothers and sisters plus a stay at home Aunt. Collectively, I personally think they all did an excellent job: )

I was an afterthought. I also had an older Mom than my siblings, she had me at 39. When I was little she would sing the song "Close To You" to me every time it came on the radio. I never had any doubt I was a loved child. Also, as the child of older parents I was a hostage to Sunday drives and know all the lyrics to all of Burt Bacharach's songs. There was a time in my life when I wouldn't have discussed that. Now that I am older I know that he truly is Awesomeness.

  Anyway, though my mom was gone during the day  the evenings and weekends were all ours. We had a hell of a good time. I remember a period when my father worked nights for a long time. I would climb up in the big bed with her and we would watch our shows. We never missed Mary Tyler Moore.
   My mother was a late driver but once she had that license we were off! We visited her friends and my Grandmother. I grew up loving to sit quietly and listen to the sound of their voices as they chatted. I was great a disappearing and knew everybodies business. We shopped. We sometimes participated in the theatre. We went to the hairdresser. I loved it there. They had a style manikin just for me to play with. "Maybe that's were I actually got started on my almost career." The lady who owned the shop's mother in law was the receptionist and one day she taught me to crochet. Basically I hung out with my mom a lot when I was kid and I enjoyed it. When I was a teenager that didn't really change too much. I still preferred going shopping with my mom to my friends and we still had a lot of fun. Though of course she sometimes drove me nuts.

  At the age of 13 my life began to revolve around a place. The Skating Rink. I loved to skate and I spent about 3 nights a week going from that time until I was married. We don't have a decent rink here anymore and I still miss it so much. Sometimes I dream about it. My skates are still in the closet.
  I was surprised when my mom was so willing to drive me the 1st time I asked. She smiled. You want to go skating? Alright, that would be fine. And then I heard the story. My Mom loved to roller skate. She not only went almost Every Night during her teens and 20's, she met my Dad at a skating rink!
  It's funny, back then she told me she sometimes dreamed about it .

One of my favorite memories of my mom was when I was around 15. During one of the many times she smiled wistfully and said she sure missed roller skating. She was around 54 at the time. So I told her. You should go. ""No I can't." Ultimately....I talked her into it.
 
  When we arrived at the rink she came in. My friends asked, "what is your mom doing here? I proudly told them. She is going to skate. You should have seen their faces. Way short of being embarrassed I was excited, this was something I had to see. I don't think she had been on skates much since her 20's but that didn't matter. She laced up and  hit the floor.
   She was Awesome, my Mom rocked and I was so proud of her I couldn't believe it! That was My Mom and she was out there keeping up with the best of them. OMG she was "rubber legging"! "Where did you learn that, I asked her amazed?" She looked at me confused and said "What? It's the 2 step."  Another case of teens being surprised they haven't invented everything. She wasn't kidding, she was a Master Roller Skater.  And so Cool she could do it AC/DC. She only lasted about an hour and was ready to hand my hangout back to me but in that time I really became her biggest fan. The funnest part, my friends thought she was the coolest thing on earth. They were properly awed by her skills and bravery. I can't count how many times I heard that night," your mom is great, mine could/would never do that." Yes...she was!

So to describe my mom I would say

In her profession she was a great, highly organized and dedicated  professional and very respected at work. She tried to retire in her sixties but couldn't stand it and went back to work. They were pleased for her to come back.

Her house was a mess.

Once when she was sick of mess and I was being a pain about cleaning my way out of control room, She  took a push broom and pushed the entire contents from the floor of my room down the hall through the house and out the front door. I was shocked! And rather impressed.

She was not afraid of being silly and loved fun. She knew any number of silly songs and, like myself, performed them in the kitchen. She would make a funny face anywhere. She was known to secretly stick her tongue out at people if she thought they were being ugly. After she had Alzheimer's she forgot it was supposed to be secret which I have to admit I enjoyed the hell out of.

She had amazing good taste and really knew how to dress. All the way into her 70's elastic waist pants were Ok around the house but I would pick her up for church and she would be wearing the most beautiful outfits. I was always so proud of her. When she wore the color magenta her skin would glow and her eyes would explode with color. Even at 80 her skin was only lightly lined, her hair was thick and luxurious and she was damned gorgeous.

She wore Chanel # 5

I guess she was the kind of woman you would see walk in to a room and the words Elegant and Lovely might come to mind. And then she would look at you with a kind smile, cross her eyes and thumb her nose at you.

She loved to take car rides and travel. She always wanted to go somewhere. God help my Dad if it was football season : )

She had a Mean temper......and a big Soft squishy heart.

Whenever she held a baby her face would get the most peaceful, blissful look. Near the end she was always looking for her baby and she had a doll to hold and take care of.

She loved her family. Her favorite thing was when all her kids and their families were home at once and we would sing and cut up. We had a blast !

She cried at some point every holiday.

She loved my Dad. She missed him terribly. One day she had been looking for him all day which was a touchy subject. I was trying to keep her busy and suggested she play the piano which she had forgotten she could do but in little miracles sometimes did anyway. She told me"I don't know how".
Oh, just try for fun, I suggested. She sat down, reached out and felt the keys. Her eyes looked far away.
The notes began and the lyrics filled my head.
 Let me call you Sweetheart......I'm in love with you.......
I sat on the stairs and listened in the other room. When she finally stopped my eyes were full of tears and I peeked into the room to see she was staring out for a moment through another time.
Please, I asked, play some more.
"I can't" she said. "I don't know how."

I was always a  private person. My mother was very respectful of that.  She never pushed or pried and I appreciated that so much as a young person. I knew that I could trust her if I needed to. And when I needed her to, she came through.

Once when I was in my thirties we were walking through a grocery store when I glanced down and noticed something. I stopped and pointed out, look at this, like mother like daughter. We were both wearing jeans and Keds and I pulled up my pants leg to show her, socks that matched our shirts. We stood in the middle of the store looking at each others socks and cracking up. The picture was so obvious the store manager walked by and looked at us and started cracking up too.

I have to say that even if she had not been my mom she would have been the friend of a lifetime. I feel sometimes that I let her down by not being able to manage near the end. This is the second year that flowers are the Only option I have to give for Mothers Day. But I can offer this tribute that I feel she would like best.

Over the years I gave her many mothers day gifts.  Perfume, books, address books a scarf or pretty pin. Maybe a special lunch out.

It all seems so inadequate for a woman who was

Beautiful, Creative, Loving, Funny, Smart. Tough, Loyal.......

And Could Really Rock on Roller Skates.



© 2010 All Rights Reserved