clickmom

On an Aging Parent

I am home from a week visiting with my Mom and Dad. The kids and I had a great time, but I am worried about my Dad. My Dad is getting old, and I never thought he’d get old like this. No one ever knew how old Dad really was. At Dads 80th birthday party, the guests were all wondering exactly how old he was. Most of his friends thought he was in his mid 70’s but they were figuring out his real age. It helped that Mom is 20 years younger, and also that my Dad seemed so young. We thought he would always be sharp, fun, and fit. I just thought one day he’d be this miraculous 100 year old guy, who could still do anything he wanted, and would still be the same great guy.

When my 93 year old grandmother got obviously old, a few years ago, it did not come as a shock to me. Grandma just always seemed old to me, and I could easily accept her failing memory, depression, and physical limitations without any problem. I even tried to be her advocate, explaining to my Mom and Uncle that their Mom needed help around the house, or maybe even that shouldn’t live alone any more. . I thought it would be a good idea for her to live with me so that she could be included in my nuclear family activities and so I could watch her, make sure took her meds, and went to the doctor, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I fought and fought until a social worker helped me see that sometimes a person can’t be removed from their environment because where they are has become everything to them.

Now, however, my Dad is getting old, and acting old, and I am not able to take it in stride. He is cranky, self absorbed, combative, and worst of all, in denial of it all. He was even cranky with the kids. Normally he would have a little outing planned and he would take them fishing or to see something special, but this time he kept putting them off and didn’t have any enthusiasm to go on golf cart rides, or anything else. They begged him to go on a few, rides but I don’t think it was the same for them. The last time we were there he had a “graduation” ceremony for them with sparklers, and they loved it. This time they seemed afraid to just request a ride.

One day Dad told me that he heard an expert say that people should sing when they get older to keep their spirits up. He thought this was a good idea. He would quietly sing to himself when he stood beside me in the kitchen, or as he sat next to me in the car and we didn’t get to talk. He was singing during the times he should have been sharing and having discussions. It was definitely a behavior that gave me the message “Even though you are beside me, I am not interested in talking to you.”

Dad’s behavior really hit home when Matt said, on our last evening “Next time can we visit when it isn’t tax season so Pop-Pop can spend some time with us?” Matt had thought Dad was working on Wednesday when he spent the entire day reviewing the next days racing forms so he could spend the day on Thursday at the Track with his buddies.

On our last morning in Florida we all went out to breakfast. At first Dad had decided to play his regular golf game. When I realized he wasn’t planning on eating with us I began to cry knowing it was the last chance the kids would have to be with him on this trip. He came with us because I made him feel guilty. At the diner Dad started to work on a find-a-word game on the place mat. I suggested he do it together with Matt, but he refused and actually celebrated finishing it ahead of his grand kids. Then he snapped at them if they bumped him with their elbows, or touched him in any way. Dad was angry. The kids feelings were definitely hurt.

I am also quite worried about my Mom, who has to live with my Dad. I don’t think Mom has the support systems she needs. I don’t think there is anyone she can really talk to. Her friends are their friends and I do not think she would confide in any of them. Mom would never say anything “bad” about my Dad. They have too much mutual respect for each other. They have always had the greatest most passionate love affair with each other. He adores her and has had her on a pedestal since the day they met and no one could touch that. He has always been very tender and affectionate with her. He’s the kind of guy who makes loving toasts, so since and touching, that cause crowds to weep. It’s always been the kind of love that makes the rest of us jealous.

I know there is nothing I can do. I think there is no place for me here. It pains me to be so far away when I would like them to be more a part of our lives and us more a part of their lives. I’d like to be able to offer my Mom some relief, support and encouragement, and would like to spend more time with my Dad before he becomes a man that only looks like my Dad, but acts like someone else, someone I don’t know any more. There is so much time between visits that it scares me. Will he still be Dad the next time I see him? I am not ready to lose him, and I fear he is already entering into another world, a world where he isn’t a family guy anymore.

Is Sunny Trained?

I got Sunny this morning, and the trainer did a demonstration of her new leash walking skills, but he never got her to nip anyone and so didn't address it. I am disappointed over that, and tried to get him to set her up, but he wasn't on the same track as me on this and didn't understand my frustration and fear over it. He claimed that as an obedient dog she would be more responsive to me and my corrections, but I will believe it when I see it. I'll set her up with Evan running across the lawn, but can't set her up using any other kid and am not comfortable believing that she won't go for some other kids ankle. That is a real bummer. Nipping was definitely my #1 concern. I had resigned myself to having a fat lawn dog that never got walked because she was so bad with the leash, and could live with that, but not one that would put her mouth on people.

I came home and took her for a good walk, she tried to relax and not follow the new program but I was able too keep her in line. I plan on working with her every single day until it is second nature for her. I wonder if I call Invisible Fence if they can give me a remote for her shock collar to give her a buzz if she bites. I think a shock or two would be all she needs to unlearn nipping permanently. She learned the perimeter of the lawn real fast. Maybe I can ask visitors to wear little white warning flags on their heels. I mean, what are my options? She doesn't nip when we are playing with her, only when we are ignoring her. I'm not sure a trainer could see it. She isn't doing it when we are attentive. It seems to me that a couple of shocks would be more humane than bringing her to the shelter for nipping and putting her up for adoption with a big "no kids" sign.

The kids all said "Hurray Sunny's home, but Matt and Josh went about doing their own thing. Only Evan really wanted to reconnect with her and coaxed up on the couch so that they could lie together and watch TV. It strikes me as funny, since he was the only one who was opposed to replacing Oscar.

odd belt

I was in line for the go cart ride and the woman in front of me was wearing such an odd belt that I slipped out my camera and took a couple of shots. My Mom saw what I was doing and started laughing and laughing. Then the kids started to look around to see what was so funny. My Mom thought I was hilarious, I thought the belt was too funny. I haven’t worn a belt in years, and admit that I am not up on belt fashion, yet this belt struck me as way over the top. I figure this belt either cost something ridiculous at an over priced boutique or was $5 at a discount store. It was phony unused bottle caps (or at least none that I recognized) bolted onto a belt. It made the belt pretty thick too. You be the judge.

my 40th birthday

So,I had this idea to photograph myself all day on my birthday today. I started off good, Josh was up at 6 and Evan at 6:30 so I took some shot of us all sleepy rolling around in bed. Than the boys and my mom prepared breakfast in bed for me and my mom dropped a vase on her way into the room. The glass went everywhere. It was unbelievable. I was told not to leave the room,( I peeked) and I felt really bad because they were trying to do something nice for me.

We had a nice frolic in the pool and then we went to a place where they have go carts, miniature golf, bumper boats, and more. I really wanted to the bumper boats, but we did the go cart first. My mom went in with Ev, I took Josh and Matt went in single. Evan had this huge grin on his face, he was thrilled. Josh seemed less than impressed, and Matt thought they were cool. We went to mini golf next and were having a great time, I was just about to whip out the camera when Evan swung his club up in the air and got me square in the nose. I saw stars. I immediately felt thick warm blood coming out the front and down my nose. I bent over and began to sob. I was crying and crying, and all I wanted to do was to go home. My mom grabbed some kleenex and a handkerchief, and we began walking out. The other people there were just frozen in their spots, they were all staring but silent. We went to the snack area got ice, and decided to go to the emergency room. Three X-rays later, not broken, just bruised.

So we came home, quickly changed and went out for my birthday dinner at a Moroccan Restaurant. We were scoping out the place for Mom’s big birthday party coming up. The decor was perfect, food really yummy, and then there was a belly dancer! Matt was just stunned and embarrassed, Evan loved it, and Josh was just falling asleep. The day ended well.

swimming & self image

I got to photograph a swim meet. I don’t often do swimming, and it is a shame, because I think swimmers tend to be some serious athletes. I was pretty psyched when I got the chance. When I go to any sport for the first time in a while it takes me a bit to get back in sync with the rhythms of that sport. I can absolutely get into a trance just looking through the camera and trying to snap the shutter at the exact moment.

When I got home I reviewed the photos with Matt and we enjoyed the ones with the great water action. You can really see the water being pushed aside, and dragged, and dripping in the stills. I’m sure it could be a great tool to help the swimmers improve their times, I could tell who had their head in too deep, and who wasn’t clearing the water enough with their arms from the photos.

Watching the girls act self conscious and hiding behind their towels when they weren’t in the water reminded me of my self conscious High School years. I wore an ankle length coat all the time through the winter (indoors too), and I remember the panic of feeling naked in the spring when I had to take it off. We women spend a lot of our time hiding. I am still hiding under many extra pounds, and hiding those under baggy clothes. So, my question is what exactly am I hiding? Is it my sexuality? Vulnerability? True Identity? All of the above?

I’ve been off of wheat for a couple of weeks, and sugar has to go now, how will I handle the inevitable weight loss? Will I panic and succumb to my addictions again? Will I find that is so pleasant not be overweight that the issues will disappear? (doubt it) Perhaps yet another round of therapy is in order. Maybe I can find someone who specializes in eating disorders or body image. I really don’t want to do the whole therapy thing now, it just seems too draining. I want to get physical results and not have to do the emotional housekeeping. See, I suck at all housekeeping!

My Baby Has a Birthday

Josh’s fourth birthday was yesterday, and during dinner my sister called on the phone and asked to wish him a “Happy Birthday.” Then the cousins got on the phone to say “Happy Birthday” too, and this all seemed confuse Josh, and he began to tell them “Happy Birthday.” It was all so silly that the grownups began to giggle over his sweet mistake.

I felt I was handling his little milestone so well until this point, when it suddenly struck me that by the time his next birthday comes around he won’t be a baby anymore, and he’ll know the whole day is all about him. Next year he’ll get it. He’ll be all over the gifts, and this is the last birthday for my baby that there will be a touch of baby-ness left in him. Next year he’ll be a real boy, not the big boy he says he is now, since he doesn’t wear diapers and gets to do things that his older brothers can do.

I am definitely feeling sorrow over soon not having a baby anymore. I wish someone would give me a baby. I know I could hold and love and take care of a baby, I just don’t think I could survive being pregnant again. I know that the last pregnancy zapped my health. But, I just can’t get my mind around not having a baby in my family. As much as I look forward to having a few hours of free time here and there, I also feel defined by my role of “Mother of Small Children”, and now Matt is nearly as tall as me, Evan is becoming a total guy, and Josh is about to leave the last bits of babyhood behind. All this trauma, and I am going to turn 40 in a few days! It is a lot to swallow all at once.

I am gazing at the kids, feeling all melancholy when I had one those moments when I know I am doing something right. My mom and I made a homemade cake for Josh, one of my reliable nondairy recipes, and when we presented it to Josh, Matt exclaimed “Oh yummy, the orange juice cake! I love it.” Evan and Josh made the Mmmmmm sound. I was so happy since it was just a plain old white cake, no flowers, colors, or writing. It just made me think how the kids can appreciate the little things, like a homemade cake. So, I guess that since they are going to grow up (at lightning speed) whether I can deal or not I may as well sit back, enjoy and celebrate the fact that my kids seem to be becoming the kind of people who appreciate a home baked cake.

birthday party

Josh had his fourth birthday party this evening. It was adorable. He asked for a Sponge Bob themed party. Matt and I went to town making costumes and decorating the doorway to look like SBs giant pineapple house. We planned a couple of on theme games.

We had so much fun, except I kept having the nagging feeling that Evan was being left out of things. We get to do and experience things when he is in school, or at night when he is already asleep, and we have so much fun, and I always feel incredibly guilty about leaving him out. I know he would never be happy at home, like Matt is, but I still wish I could just keep him home for the extra special days. I also worry about his difficulty fitting in with Matt and Josh, who are so similar and worry that it will just make it more difficult for them to relate to him, or even want to.

Anyway, the preschoolers gathered at our house, and they were happy to be here and seemed to be having a good time. We played some games and then made our own crabby patties (hamburgers) and then had cake. We sang to Josh and he just glowed. I beamed right back at him thinking I couldn’t adore him any more than I do, and said “Make a wish!” He said, “I wish...I wish...I just love my mom.” Evan remarked “Josh, you should have wished for a million wishes.” Josh replied ”Yeah, but I really love my mom.” The whole crowd said “Aaaaaww.”

Branly Cadet's sculpture

I met Branly Cadet my senior year in high school. I was just about to turn 17. We remained friends (not his choice) for 4 years before becoming lovers, and went on to have a 3 year relationship. I was sure he was the one, and said I was it for him too. He left me for another woman once I began to pressure him to marry me. I was 23 when he moved out of our apartment. We have managed to remain friends, and after 16 years of lives apart, our friendship is solid again. It probably took me about 7 years to really get past all my pent up anger. Remember, I tend to let things fester.

Anyway, one of the many things that led to the demise of our relationship was that soon after we moved in together (after 2 years of being a couple) was that he decided to take a sculpting class. He had always dabbled in drawing, was a great cartoonist and even did some very respectable figure drawing. His new work was amazing. By his second piece, you could barely tell the clay from the model. He had clearly found his niche. Very soon taking a class in the evenings wasn’t enough for him and he figured he could work in the evenings and attend art school during the day. This left me alone in the evenings, in a new neighborhood, with no friends, and lonely. His work day was beginning when I got off from work. I would be sleeping when he got home, and he would be just waking up when I left for my unsatisfying job in the morning. Eventually he was living with a pretty angry stranger. I did not like the arrangement. I imagine I was getting hostile on the weekends too. One day he came and confessed that he was attracted to a woman at work, Duh!- he chatted with her for hours every day! Soon after the admission he moved out.

Anyway, he tolerated my ascorbic anger for years afterwards, just to get to this place where we could be friends again, so when he got this tremendous opportunity to create a monument of Adam Clayton Powell Jr. to go on public display in Harlem I was thrilled for him. Today was the unveiling for the sculpture. There would be a big stage set up with all sorts of important people there.

I went with Matt and Josh. It was so exciting, many black political figures were there, and Branly gave such a lovely speech. The speech really demonstrated what a peaceful and loving place Branly heart is in now, as well as the desire for peace and equality that was the goal of ACP Jr. and the whole movement. When they finally uncovered the sculpture, it just took my breath away. The details were extraordinary, the pose, and the suggestion of wind in his face, the look of determination in his eyes. I first saw it from a distance, I had taken the kids into a shop across the street to warm up and I thought how perfectly the sculpture fit in it’s space, It was just the right size, yet beckoned me for a close up look. When the crowd began to subside we went back to congratulate Branly and I was overwhelmed by the power and presence the sculpture had up close. The piece was exquisite, it was perfect from every angle. I hope this is the beginning of some serious recognition for Branly.

The piece is in Harlem on 125th street and Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Blvd.

husband was sick today

Rich woke up this morning said he was nauseous and stayed in bed for the entire day. He did had a fever too. I was so freaking jealous that he could just get sick and lie down. Damn. On my worst day of this past illness, I spent 4 hours cleaning up the house for Josh’s birthday party. But, I bit my tongue all day, tried to forget the time last winter when I had 105F with pneumonia and the two of him (I was seeing double) stood in the doorway and shouted “What’s plan B? I can’t just take off and baby-sit the kids for you!” Not being one to forgive and forget, but rather one to remember and let it fester, I found there was a big difference between what I said and what I meant. For example, when I said “Would you like some water honey?” I imagined dramatically throwing it in his face and storming out of the room. When I said “You’re nauseous? Here’s a bowl.” what I left out was (And if you miss I swear I’ll kill you)

Get Back in bed! = Go to work and make some money!

You should take the day off tomorrow too. = After all, it’s not like you do anything around here all day, makes no difference to me.

Oh You’re warm. You have a fever. = Big deal, I move mountains with a low grade fever like that.

Poor sweetie. =Must be nice. I wouldn’t know.

That’s the difference between a mom and dad. Mom’s can’t just lie down . And when I was telling him to just take it easy and not to even think about going to work tomorrow with a big smile on my face, I just thought.....

day 6 of my detox

Well, the head cold is still going strong, along with the weird dreams and restless sleep. Last night I kept hearing the India Arie song in my dreams that goes “brown skin, you know I love your brown skin. I can’t tell where yours begins. I can’t tell where mine ends.....” Great song, not sure why it is on repeat in my brain loop. I don’t even have brown skin.

The night before I dreamt I was caught in a board game and couldn’t find the right space that would tame my coughing. I woke up in a coughing fit shouting “Enough, enough!” Then I was up for the last 3 hours of what could have been a good night’s sleep.

But today, I do not have a head ache! However, being still in an itty bit of denial, (as if there could be an itty bit of denial) I am continuing to consume sugar. Mostly chocolate, but also sweetened drinks. When it comes to soda, I may as well just grab the paraphernalia and start main lining. I know when I start doing soda I am in deep trouble. I dream about soda, scheme about getting soda, thrill over frozen coke at BK, rediscover all my childhood favorites, root beer, ginger ale, ice-cream sodas, and even cel-ray. Soda in cans, bottles, and nice waxy paper cups with straws. Aaaahh...soda. Nothing gets me high on sugar faster than good ‘ol soda.