A Nice Nun Story

Over my lifetime I have heard and read numerous stories of mean and cruel nuns scarring children for life. Some of the stories are humorous and some truly are not. The legacy of Catholic School sometimes seems to be "who had the meanest nun." The tormentor in my Catholic School story, however, was Not A Nun. She was a lay teacher. And a more nasty, sour, vitriolic old witch never walked the planet. But she had a nemesis. As a result, even though I have not been a Catholic in my adult life, I love nuns. I think they are lovely. And my nun was wonderful.

This is a quick digression to gush about nuns, so you can skip it if you wish. I have always admired and respected nuns. I have huge admiration for Mother Teresa and I adore Saint Bernadette. I have a rosary with some spring water from Lourdes that my mom bought me in Tijuana. Of course it's real! Have faith ; ) I read The Nuns Story, a novel from 1956 by Kathryn Hulme, it's a great book. Sometimes I turn on the Catholic channel and watch Mother Angelica or listen to them saying the rosary. I find it peaceful. I don't want to be a Catholic but I think Nuns, Are Awesome.

Anyway...

 I believe that the flashes of memory from my Kindergarten and first grade years, with their partner of afternoons at Aunt Kate's Fly Swatter Wielding Nursery From Hell,  are so very clear in my mind even after all these years because they were traumatic. Can we really remember events from an early age that clearly?  Well I do very clearly remember that in first grade we had a Christmas gift exchange where names were drawn and I was very excited that a little boy named John had my name and very upset that I had Robert, a freckle faced lad with perpetual green snot hanging out of his nose. I begged my Mom to let me buy John a present too, but she said "No. Only the one whose name you have."  I was terribly angry and begrudged poor Robert his Hot Wheels car, barely looking at him as I thrust it in his hands and turned away. I told John that I Really Wanted to get him a present and saved his gift of a box of lollipops shaped like wild animals in a box decorated like a zoo cage for a long time before eating them.
 Due to the fact that I only vaguely remember moments from second and third grade, after I begged to be allowed to go to the public school because I didn't want to go back, I think our memories of frightening experiences can be very accurate.  I was an extremely shy and nervous child. My memory of my emotional feeling while at this school is clear to me. Dread. I still feel it when I think about the place.

I started kindergarten at four. I turned 5 in October but was always one of the youngest kids in my class. This was the  1969/70 school year. I believe in those days kindergarten was optional in the public school and it wasn't as advanced as it is now. Catholic school, however, started early. We started ABC's and learning to read right off the bat. My kindergarten teacher wasn't exactly sweet. She could be very nice if you were doing well and really had a temper if you crossed her. She once screamed in my face because I decided writing my alphabet was hard and drew a picture instead. But the day my mind clicked and I started reading, I looked up in wonder at what had just happened and she smiled broadly and told me 'You did it! Very Good!' : ) I got a gold star on a prayer card that day.

 Then it was time for first grade. Time to get serious. We had to wear uniforms. Navy skirt, white blouse, and a tie. The tie. A half inch slip of blue fabric that crossed at the collar with a mother of pearl snap. Black or brown hard sole strapped shoes only. Twice a week we should wear navy shorts under our skirts and bring tennis shoes for PE day. I had my pencils. I had my wonderful box of 84 Crayola Crayons. I had my yellow cigar box to keep them in. I had a red plaid metal lunchbox because my mom thought they were cute and wouldn't get me one with H R Pufynstuf on it.

 My mother worked and didn't drive. She took the bus in the mornings and actually took me to Kindergarten every morning on the city bus. By happy chance the summer before first grade a new family moved in across the street with two little girls included that would be attending the Catholic School. Their mom would drive and didn't mind if I came too. Gigi. She was a nice woman with a hard life who worked nights as a waitress. Sometimes my mom had to leave early and I would finish getting ready alone and then go across the street.

My first grade teacher met her class with a frown daily. She was strict and all business. She struck fear in our hearts walking us over to church for prayers. We were required to bring lace veils and wear them there. I wonder about that now. It wasn't something our mass normally required. I think it was her own preference. The teacher kept them in her desk for us. Before we went down she would admonish us about our behavior with threats of 'Father' being angry and coming after us if we didn't do things correctly. Within the church she hissed orders through clenched teeth. I was so petrified most of the time that I didn't remember anything. Afraid to make a move I often was in trouble for not moving at all. When someone stole my awesome box of 84 Crayola Crayons and I was apparently in meltdown mode, my mother finally went in to have a chat with this teacher. My mother learned then that I was not exaggerating. When she came home I asked about the crayons and she said, 'I couldn't get an answer about anything.'  Later she told me. "all she would talk about was how you kept chewing on the ends of your tie." She was completely fixated on it.
Yes, due to overwhelming anxiety I had become a TIE CHEWER! Disgraceful. The only thing more unforgivable would be....Not Having A Tie At All. *Gasp*

My dad kept my ties in his desk. Sometimes I would forget to put them away after school. Sometimes I could not find my tie. Often there was no one there to help me look.  Sometimes Gigi had a spare. Sometimes she didn't. When she didn't I had to go tie-less. This happened more than once. When we had inspection in the morning the teacher would sputter with anger about my missing tie. One morning she had enough!

"You go down the hall to the Principles Office and tell SISTER that you have forgotten your tie!"

 She glared with an evil gleam that let me know I was done for. The rest of the class froze in terror and disbelief staring with their eyes bugged and mouths hanging open. Sent to the Principle! Sent to Sister!

"I have had enough and I will let The Principle Take CARE OF IT THIS TIME !" MayBE thEN YOU Will leARN YOur  LESSON!"

She left me in no doubt that I would be flayed alive and returned to class a bloody pulp to stand as an example to the others of the repercussions of sin. Breaking the eleventh commandment. Thou Shall Not Go Tie- Less in school.

 I was silent and terrified as only a critically shy, anxiety ridden little girl could be. I slowly made my way down the cavernous high ceilinged hall alone. I glanced up at each door cautiously. Unsure of finding my way by myself because we always traveled in a line with an adult at the head. Finally I arrived at a door leading into the Principle's office. I hung back standing awkwardly in the doorway. A woman sat at the big desk, writing. She was intimidating in a full black habit. Only the beige of her face and hands stood out against her cuffs and wimple.  I can't remember the details of her face but I can see her hands holding the pen clearly. It was her. The Principle. She looked up and said,

"Yes? Come in. What is it?"

I told her Mrs. : ( had sent me.

"Come and sit down. What did you do? Tell me."

The tears starting to leak out I began, 'i don't have my tie.'

"Why don't you have it?"

I can't remember exactly what I said. But I explained my tie not being in it's usual place and that I looked everywhere and probably told her no one had been home to help me look as well.

I waited for her forehead to wrinkle and her voice to raise. Instead we chatted for a little while and she told me to be more careful about remembering my tie.

"Yes Sister." Was it time for my punishment yet? What would it be? A paddling? Fed to wolves?

She opened her desk drawer and I watched closely as her hand reached in wondering what form of torture would be produced. Her hand emerged holding...

a tie.

'Here you are. Wear this one today but remember to bring it back to me directly after school. Don't forget." And then...

She smiled.

I was in shock and awe and felt an incredible flood of LOVE and relief wash over me. I was off the hook. When I entered the classroom wearing my substitute tie the teacher greeted me with anxious hope. You're Back? What did she do about it? I couldn't help my smile. 'She gave me this tie to wear today.'

I still remember the look of disappointment followed by rage that came over the women's face. Bull dog framed by tight,  graying pin curls. But. I was unscathed by it. I had. A tie.

Her hatred of me was unrivaled from that day forward and she found any way she could to make my life a misery. This is what she accomplished. My parents and Gigi took their daughters out of the school and let us go to public in second grade. Oh yeah! Freckled Robert and his Snot turned up in my public school class the next year too. The Catholic School lost four tuition's that I know of.

As for my Nun, I never forgot her. I would love to thank her now and a few years ago I contacted the school and church to see if she was still alive and if I could write her. They claimed they don't keep records of where transfers are made. I'm not sure I believe that,  but I find it understandable that it may be a safety precaution. But I am so grateful for her kindness that day. I was a very scared child and this Nun was kind and understanding. It is the only memory I have of not feeling terrorized while there. In only a few moments in time she made an indelible impression on my life. Though the shortest part of this story it is the biggest part and gives me something to keep in mind when interacting with others. Truly,

Everything we do matters.

And can last a lifetime.



© 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.

Meanwhile...Back At The Cardboard Box.

My family is playing stomach flu dominoes and we are down 3 out of 4 with a possible alternate in Biggest because she spent a lot of time here this week. As the last one standing I am hoping to keep up my visiting/reading the next few days in between Gatorade refills and before I go down but I'm not feeling very promising at the moment so if I seem to have disappeared SEND GATORADE!....

If you are new here or missed my: Ms. G. is Grounded post, In September I thought that since I chronicle my teenagers here it would only be fair to share a little bit about myself as a teen back in the renaissance. You remember the Renaissance right? As I dug threw my cardboard box I came upon this brilliant gem that I penned in March 1982 when I was 16.  So here is a second installment filed under Pack Rat/ Me As A Teenager. The Poetry Edition.

At this mid point in my life, I again peruse these lines that bear my profound young soul and emerging self knowledge and I realize something.
I really haven't changed too much.

Fantasy
1982

Rising out of the ocean
Golden skin glistening in the sun
This is how I first  saw you
The unbelievably perfect one

If I were Aphrodite
You'd be my Adonis
And I'd hide us away
So no one could find us

Perfectly carved features
Almost painful to see
I couldn't believe you
Would really want me

And I was right
You walked right past
I knew something that good
Just wouldn't last.


By Miss G. aged 16 but probably telling people she was 18 ...or maybe 20.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved



Not a full moon but might as well be

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

So I Took Off My Cape & My Tights....

This poem A Cup of Tea and a Book I posted in November was actually written in 2007. it described exactly how I felt at the time. And sometimes still do.

 That was the year I realized there are some things you can't control.  I used to be a highly organized individual. My calendar was marked clearly. I knew where everyone was supposed to be, what they needed to do, and orchestrated how it was all accomplished. It was not the year I had the worst problems with my oldest. Those were behind us. During that time I had soldiered on. Held my head up and looked people in the eye while trying not to let judgement get to me. Continued to carry on making sure the younger girls lives were as normal, fruitful, and fulfilling as any other child's despite the issues our family faced at the time. Supermom had been caught by surprise but fought valiantly to fix something that ultimately had to fix itself and at the same time help run the business, check homework, listen to cello practice, drive to gymnastics, balance the checkbook & a meal. And it had wore me out. But I moved forward still.

I met my husband when I was 19, married at 20, had my daughter at 21.  We were married 7 months when I wound up pregnant and though we weren't planning on starting a family right away we were glad of it and took the job seriously  and I was prepared to throw myself into this job. Which meant staying home with my child even though we would be poor as dirt. I like dirt.
  During those years we shared a home with my husbands grandfather. It was a good arrangement for all of us. Relieving financial stress and giving him someone to help out with things he couldn't keep up with. We all lived together for several years including the years after he suffered a bad stroke and when he needed care, we provided it. So basically I spent my 20's taking care of a badly disabled elderly man and small children. I liked my little life.  I didn't have the ambition of doing anything else. But at times it was very secluded. And I learned my strength by emptying urine bottles along with changing diapers. My biggest outing was usually when my husband would stay at home and I would go visit my parents.

   When Biggest was six the Grandfather was no longer with us. My husband looked at me and said, "hey she is starting school, do you want to go back to work?" And I said "hey, let's have some more kids!" ; ). Not really...but sorta. During the following years I was busy with the kids schools and activities. Making sure they had every opportunity available to them and helping my husband start his business. We had several years of growth and stability building a normal life. I was Supermom, and when problems evolved as Biggest hit her teens I continued on even in the face of adversity.

 I love being a mother. At this point in my life I can't think of any place I would rather be or wish that I would rather have fulfilled. I have fallen into my role: The Caregiver, which includes sometimes feeling like the Worry Warrior, or Keeper of the World. It comes so naturally to me now that I have to say This is what defines me.

But still..I remember when the younger girls were in preschool. I mentioned to the other moms that I couldn't wait till Littlest started 1st grade. All there with their firstborns, they looked at me like I was a black mark on motherhood. I laughed. But, I said, "I've been doing this for ten years." I haven't been alone since I was 19. My husband and I were married 12 years before we were able to take a trip with just the two of us. There were times on that trip I had to admit, I didn't miss anyone. Well, little twinges. But not much.
They were all in full time school for 2 years and I had a little more time for myself, before Biggest crashed and burned and I set my new freedom aside to begin Homeschooling. I had to learn Algebra all over again, Oh Joy!

  In 2007 I thought I could catch my breath. The kids were finally old enough that I could leave them on their own and function without 6 legs. Biggest was doing well. Middlest was accepted into the high school she had been working toward for 4 years. Littlest had just come through a difficult period was coming out of her shell & seemed to be losing some of the sadness that had plagued her. Perhaps I could get off the hotwheels track I had been on for years from home, helping with office work, to school, to the grocery, bank, post office, sports and kids events every now and then and pick up a paintbrush or Go Do Something...of my own!  The economy was causing  stress in our business but we had dealt with that before.
 And then......
After my father passed away my mom had gone to live with my sister who is single and doesn't have kids. At the time mom moved in she was still working part time and led an independent life. Later she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  My sister  was a  police detective and as my moms disease progressed I took on some of the daytime duties of driving her to doctors & her volunteer work at a hospital. I can never express how much appreciation I feel for my sister for taking on the bulk of this job during those years. It is the hardest one in the world. My mom had progressed to the point where she needed to be in an adult day care during the day when my sister was injured at work. She was under financial stress as well as worrying about the future and trying to deal with Mom who was wavering between stage 2 & 3. She couldn't handle it anymore. Could I take this on? Why not, I was Supermom.

My husband was terrific and dealt with my mom beautifully. He really had a way with her and could playfully tease her into calming down. And the kids really did their best to be understanding. But, this was when my need to be organized and in control sent me over the edge. I loved my Mom so much and we had been very close and had really been friends. I missed that person but wanted to do all I could to make her happy and take good care of her. One of the issues we faced was that her mind was completely gone but she was still pretty healthy and extremely mobile. She could take the stairs faster than me. She had to be entertained and watched at all times.
I was running a race from 5:00 AM to 11:00 PM and usually up in the middle of the night. My Mom was always worried about her appearance & this hadn't changed yet so I helped her with her hair, makeup & clothes every morning while at the same time getting the kids together. Kept track of meds, meals, bathing, her bills, every aspect of her life. The girls specialized schools required parent participation and extra activities normal schools do not and also were located 30 & 45 minutes from our home.  Their academic classes carried a large workload that I would oversee. The economy was taking a toll on our business and we were very stressed by this. I am the one my husband  counts on to talk him through when he feels hopeless, so I suck my worry up and present the brighter possibilities. Keep the worry from becoming consuming.
   As the months progressed, everything began to slide downhill while I used all my Superpower strength up trying to hold it up.  Middlest was failing ninth grade. She was throwing away an amazing opportunity and nothing I tried could make her see that. Littlest was just coming out of a difficult period where she had withdrawn and been depressed, these were some after effects from her sisters problems. She was just beginning to unfold and branch back out.  Unfortunately my Mom had zeroed in on Littlest to harass. She was on her constantly and Littlest had retreated to spending nearly all her time on her swing. She wasn't even safe there. My mom would find her. She had retained her motherhood worry instinct and  would constantly tell her she was swinging to high. She needs to stop that. She would come to me to try to make Littlest get off that swing before she got hurt. Littlest understood what was going on but it didn't make it any easier for her. And it didn't help that Middlest, who was actually being a real problem for me, could do no wrong in my Moms eyes (even though she didn't know who she was) and she would defend her whenever I needed to fuss at her for something.

 I was in a hamster wheel with jet packs attached to it. I stressed over the girls school and emotional problems, money, making sure my mom was safe and happy & getting all the resources available to her. Adding support and keeping up with business, making sure the house was in order, appointments were kept, and everybody was well fed, washed and tucked in at night. Until sun downing started and I would get up a 2 AM to try to explain to mom that it wasn't time to "go" wherever she was going and she could put her pajama's back on and get some more sleep. Which usually led to anger because I was wrong and telling her what to do or tears because she was disappointed. 
Alzheimer's is delicate. My mom retained the awareness of  her authority as an adult while dealing with situations like a child. The wearing Depends at night talk was a regular occurrence. Because she "did not need these, what was wrong with me?" Oh my...delicacy. It's a seesaw you constantly have to balance.

This is my identity. I am the Caregiver. This is my Purpose. This is not only My Life.
This is what I have been given. I refused to not do it well.

Life hopped off the other end of my see-saw.

 Everyone has their own level of ability to cope. For me I say there are two kinds of stress: Cookie Stress and Can't even eat cookies Stress. I really didn't have much appetite, but it kept me out of the junk. That's a good thing, right? As I was winging my way full speed through perfectionism and keeping it all together without dropping any threads I failed to notice I was going nuts. I am not a big person but was rather pleased when the extra weight I carried around my waist began to melt away. Why I haven't weighed 113 lbs. since I was...well 13 but this is healthier for my heart, right?  I was just having a bad day when I accused my poor husband of being supportive of my mom coming to us so that he could keep me trapped in the house, while he did as the pleased.
They started to notice. My husband tried even harder to be of help. He began to urge me to relax a little. You can let some of this go. If the girls aren't keeping up in school that is their responsibility, they aren't little. If my mom wanted to wear the same outfit for 3 days and it wasn't soiled, so what. Quit hiding clothes and staging her closet so she always a fresh outfit. He started tempting me with pizza and brownies. Was he crazy?

 This is my job, this is my purpose. Why else do I exist?

One day Biggest asked to see my stomach and told me I looked like a crackhead.
Not long after my sister looked at me and said I looked anorexic and she asked what was happening with Littlest.  And then she took my mother back.
My mom was moving into the later stages, a swift decline and within a couple months of going back to my sister had degenerated to the point where a skilled nursing home was necessary. Later that year she passed away from complications of a physical illness.

And I, well, I Resigned my position as Supermom.
 I had to admit that I could not do it all. I had to learn that it's ok to be a human myself. I went out and had some fun. I went surfing. I sat on the beach while dust bunnies partied under the beds. I painted my toenails and started working out. I had a mini at home honeymoon with my husband where we re-connected on a "we as a couple" level not just an "all of us level" which we had lost at some point without realizing it. Our marriage has never been better.  I didn't check to make sure anyone finished homework. If they slacked in school I didn't beg teachers to help with this kid who wouldn't be bothered. I told Middlest enjoy summer school, I'm going to the beach. I realized I could point them in the right direction and give them resources and offer help when needed but if they didn't utilize these, I was not the one who failed. I made sure they knew their responsibilities and praised when they accomplished and restricted when they didn't. I avoided hovering to make things happen. I didn't join one committee. I helped with the business but didn't worry it to death when things didn't go well. What can you do? Nothing, just move on. I let my house get a little messy. I forgot to buy a new calendar. I said No.

 I couldn't control everything and make it right. I had to learn to let go a little. I had a year of (sorta)being selfish, at least that's how it felt to me. And I loved it. For now I am satisfied with being Good Mom, at least my kids think so and that is what matters to me. They know I am there for them. I do my best but it's not always perfect. Oh well. My seesaw isn't always balanced but it stays in motion.

I do still look forward to my life being my own but...

 I have to admit that my biggest fear of the future is a selfish one. I have never in my entire life not been responsible to or for someone else. I include my husband as part of myself, we still have never lived alone together and had the freedom to just up and do what we want and it will be a whole new experience. In my post previous to this one there is a song that I love and call my theme song. The Way.  In four more years my responsibilities will mostly be reduced to what they were 24 years ago. I am really looking forward to it. But I have this fear hanging over my head. My siblings are older than me. Two are married. My sister is 13 years older than me and  has no family of her own to turn to when she's older. My husbands parents are only a few years older than her. He does have siblings but I have to admit that my biggest fear is that just as soon as my responsibilities for caring for my kids are completed that I will be given a new assignment. My biggest fear is that I will never be in control of my own life without taking a back seat to my responsibilities to others.

But if that happens I know myself well. I love these people. And... I am not a Superhero but....


This is my Identity. I am the Caregiver. This is my Purpose. This is My Life.
This is what I have been Given. And I Try to do it well.

And hopefully I will be finished before I lose my mind. If I lose my husband first I am planning on packing up my books and my cats and disappearing up a mountain to become a crazy hermit lady. If my kids take care of me, Biggest would drive herself nuts trying to do everything perfectly. Middlest would forget to feed me and change my Depends, and Littlest would make me eat Sushi and experiment on me for her research on Dementia in her psychiatry practice.

Um...No!


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