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Posts Tagged ‘mothers’

  1. Aging Crazily

    October 3, 2016 by C.

     

    Hey, everybody!

    Hey, everybody!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    As I get older, I’m becoming more aware that I’ll be a lunatic when I hit my sixties. How do I know this as fact? Well, my Mom and all my friend’s mothers are complete whack jobs in their sixties and my generation has eaten far more processed foods, been a million times more stressed, slept less, and done many more drugs, so in actuality we will probably be even crazier than they are in around twenty years.

     

    Now, this should make me a more sympathetic person to the aging mothers in my life, but quite the opposite. I strive to make them even more insane and bewildered. Let me give you a great example…

     

    I have a friend who made the HUGE mistake of dragging along her sixty-something mother on a vacation to the beach. On the first day, they decide to tour a fort that was on an island they were going to hang out on for the day. It was a gorgeous day and the fort was on the way to the other side of the island where they would lounge all day long on the beach, swimming and collecting seashells with the kids. Sounds marvelous, right? Well, old Mom took a tumble down the stairs in the fort tower and broke her femur (she tells everyone she broke her “FEMA” and they stare at her wondering why this woman needed FEMA assistance and how in the world she broke them). An emergency Coast Guard rescue from the island, surgery to place a rod in her leg, an extended vacation in a hospital room nowhere near the beach, not to mention a blown budget and you have a really craptastic vacation spent with good old Mom. Yay!

     

    After a grueling car trip home with doped up Mom and two kids who were wishing they had been born into another family, my friend made it home in one piece. Her main goal was to just get her mom home and things would be so much easier. Wrong! Mom’s a widow with no one to look out for her so my friend and her children took shifts watching over her because she was on a walker and had to have someone follow her around on it. Not to mention, help give her baths, fix her food, do her laundry and various other household tasks, shop for her groceries, get more pain meds from the pharmacy, take her to follow-up doctor appointments and take her to physical therapy three days a week. That hospital stay seemed like a spa week at this rate.

     

    Here’s where I come in…

    Being such a kind and generous human being, and hearing that her Mom was having horrible hallucinations on a certain pain medication, I ran right over to bring dinner for them all just so I could witness and perhaps help out with this hallucination problem (aka make her feel like she’s crazier than she really is or at least join in on the fun).

     

    It didn’t take long. She opened up her box of food I had brought in and started chowing. About halfway through, she froze, staring off across the living room floor.

    “Do you see that rat sitting over there in the corner?” she whispered.

    This was the chance I had been waiting for!

    “Yes, yes, I see it! Where do you keep your broom, Gertrude (I have changed her name to protect her innocence)?” I shouted.

    Both of the kids immediately left the room covering the giggling noises coming from their mouths.

    “In the kitchen…there’s a cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. Please hurry…it’s sitting over there smiling at me,” she responded.

    “Nothing worse than a cocky rat. I’ll beat that smile right off his face!” I replied.

    I ran off to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. I took confident strides back into the living room, ready to smash me an invisible rat (I would like to admit at this point, had it been a real rat, I would have left the premises upon first sight). I stood in the corner and beat her carpet with that broom until she screamed, “You got him! You killed that rat! Thank you so much!”

    This was the most fun I’d had in a long time. I was someone’s hero for doing absolutely nothing. As I returned to my chair, my friend rolled her eyes at me and mouthed, “STOP IT.”

    I stayed a little longer and Gertrude looks at me and says, “Can you turn on the Foxfire?”

    “Um, pardon?”

    “I don’t know what I did with that thingie. Can you turn on the Foxfire for me? And Bessie, (my friend’s name has also been changed to protect her innocence), could you please bring me some Ibupropaline?”

    I look over at my friend who was cracking up and she hands me the remote to an Amazon Firestick and says, “Yeah, turn on the “Foxfire” for her while I go get her some

    “Ibupropaline”. I flipped on the TV and followed my friend into the other room. I had to ask…

    “Why’d she change the names? Is it the pain medication causing this?”

    “Oh no, she calls them that when she’s completely sober. Just something she started doing a couple of years ago.”

    Good grief. I might as well start making payments on my padded room at the old folks’ home. I’ll make sure to pick a place that has plenty of Ibupropaline because as my Mom says to me, “Growing old is painful and you, my dear, are too much of a wimp.” 

     

     

     


  2. Mother Masked Me

    January 25, 2013 by C.

    WTH???

    WTH???

     

     

     

    This evening I got to the hotel and mother was being snarky so I had to put her in her place.

    “I believe I am footing the bill for this hotel room so when I come in after a hard day at work I expect my bed turned down and my slippers waiting by the door.”

    “Chanin, you are not footing the bill for this hotel. The company you work for is.”

    “Same diff. I didn’t see you whipping out any plastic at check-in so I expect you to get with it and make my stay much more pleasurable for the last week we are here or you will immediately be placed in an old folks home once we arrive back home.”

    She just glared at me.

    I have injured my back and pretty much get doped up on muscle relaxers once I get in for the evening. I got out my head pad and leaned back against it to watch a few episodes of Downton Abbey.

    I had my headphones in and was all involved in the show (Lord Anthony was ditching poor Edith at the alter…what an old bastard!). I see my mom moving pretty quickly for her age out of the corner of my eye. Next thing I know she is on top of me with a tube of something smearing it all over my face. Being half-doped, depressed for poor Edith and in pain, I really had no chance to get out of her death grip.

    Through my Downton soundtrack, I hear her say that I am getting older and need to take much better care of my skin (she has been saying this since I was 12). Could these drugs be so good that I am imagining all of this? Who attacks their daughter with a facial mask???

    Someone not in their right mind and on their way to the old folks home, that’s who.

    To make matters worse she is laughing so hard she starts farting. At this point I am praying the pain in my back gets so bad I will lose consciousness.

    When she finally releases me, she says in her snarky voice, “Now snap a picture of that and share it on Facebook with all your friends.”

    So I did…well not on Facebook, but on my blog. She really doesn’t know the difference between the two so does it really matter?


  3. Me and Mom Be Trippin’

    January 20, 2013 by C.

    Ohhhhh early bird dinner specials! Yea!

    Ohhhhh early bird dinner specials! Yea!

     

     

     

     

    As of today, I am starting on my 3rd week in Springfield, Ohio. When I was first told that I was going (for a week), my mom mentioned it might be fun for her to go along and she would pay her own way etc, etc. That was fine with me but then a few days before leaving it was turned into being gone for 2 weeks. I honestly thought she would want to stay home. I mean hell, I didn’t even want to go for a week, let alone for 2.

    Surprisingly, she said she still wanted to go. After being in Springfield for 3 days, this 2 week stay then turned into staying for a month. I volunteered to drive her home on a Saturday and drive back alone on a Sunday but she didn’t want to leave. She said she didn’t like the idea of my being alone all this time in a strange city. I am 41-years-old for shits sake!

    So here I sit, sharing a hotel room with my mom for 2 more weeks. The most disturbing part of this is that I am starting to act more and more like an old lady. Here are the new habits I have picked up from spending so much time with her…

     

    I like to have had my dinner no later than 6 pm. We have a routine where I get off work and pull up in front of the hotel, then we immediately go to wherever she has picked for dinner. Most nights it is a place that offers an early bird dinner special. She gets very excited about this because she boxes up part of it for her lunch the next day and saves money.

    I am in my pajamas by 7:30. Lights out usually by 9:30. At home, I was up past 11 every night.

    Laying out all of my medication the night before I need it. Thinking of getting a pill-box soon to match Mom’s.

    Bitching about all my hotel neighbors.”Seriously, another damn kids birthday party at the pool??? There is water all over the floor and someone is going to fall and break a hip!”

    There are things she does that I have not picked up on because frankly it freaks me out. Her evening treat is to get on my laptop (because she cannot figure out how to connect to the hotel Wi-Fi when I am not here) and getting online to look at the obituaries in our hometown online newspaper. Why do people look at this stuff? If a  friend or family member died, I would hope someone would notify you and you would not have to find out about it online. Why care about the deaths of complete strangers? This is what I hear every night, “Chanin, a 2-year-old baby died. Is that not horrible?”

    “Yes, it is horrible.”

    “Awwww and a 32-year-old woman. That is just too young to die. Oh, and she had kids! Those poor babies.”

    I got tired of listening to the stories of the dead strangers so I got out my tablet one night and filled my ears with headphones, watching a video. She just continued talking to me. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I heard her voice just talking away about something…probably a homeless man died or something.

    Then there are her motherly warnings that are getting old now…

    We have been very fortunate and not had any snow while we have been here. But every morning, she gets up to warn me about black ice. I am not sure where this mystery black ice has come from but it is something that shows up during the night, every single night, just waiting out there on the highways to spin my car out of control.

    And…

    “Can you please get us back to the hotel? It is dark and I don’t like being out after dark. Someone will see these out-of-state plates and knock us in the head.”

    Being knocked in the head doesn’t sound so bad right now.