My mother myself

After dinner last nite mom called to ask about the current hurricane. She was watching the news. We are going to be fine she tells me but are you going to be effected by it she asks me. I ask her what she means as she has caught me off guard. Florida will be fine she says but I am wondering if you and Torsten will get hit by it in Jersey. SMH.
I do not like moments like these. I am not sure if it is one of those age related things or I just woke up from a short nap thing. Either way I do not like hearing the inevitable confusion when I remind her that she is in Jersey now. My statement is always followed by that pregnant pause which is always followed by the well what you gonna do comment.
I feel a storm coming. I am not sure when it will make landfall but I know it’s coming. There are the little tells, the subtle changes. She has become more of a spectator and less of a participant. I have seen this before. I do not like where I know it’s going. I want to redirect her path. Keep her interest levels up. Keep mom mom.
I do not like these feelings. I do not like watching these changes.
I am grateful that we are all together now. Happy that we have the chance to make new memories; mom picking crabs with us, taco Tuesday and moose kisses to name a few. These moments ease the frustration of the slip sliding moments. The less capable mom holding my arm as we walk. The what you gonna do mom.
I am glad she is here, 8 minutes from my front door because I feel a storm coming and 18 hours away … well that was a whole different thing.
So, I am gathering my storm kit. Making sure I have what I need and my supplies are in the pantry. I will not dwell on what I know is coming rather enjoy the blue sky and comfortable weather.
There’s a storm coming. It isn’t here yet. I’m going to keep an eye to the weather line and enjoy calm while it’s here.

Just before the phone clicked off I heard those words, if I had my car. I wanted to say something, but what is there to say. How do you respond to you mom when she says if I had my car.

It was supposed to be three of us completing the task of moving mom. One to drive the truck and one to drive her car with her in it and. Life gets in the way and plans change. There were three of us on the move but only two of us had a driver’s license and only one of us could actually do the drive. Althea was our sidekick in a box (for those who do not know she is moms cat ), mom became my sleepy navigator, and I was the designated driver. We had to leave the car tucked safely away in the garage. We will come back for it I told her.
I think I was sincere when I said it as were were packing.It’s a choice I told her, your memories or your car. Memories won out but the car has become a sticking point. I remember when my grandfathers stopped driving, it wasn’t a huge thing but, they made the choice not to drive. When dad stopped it was tragic. The dementia was advancing and it was difficult for him to understand that he needed to let mom drive and no dad you didn’t just drive yesterday that was a year ago. Mom, she was driving in Florida as there wasn’t anyone to drive her around . When you came to visit she handed over the keys and you got to play driving Miss Daisy for the time you were there. She enjoyed being a passenger. This is different. Her car is in Florida and she is in an apartment 8 minutes away from me in New Jersey and if I am honest, I do not want her to drive any more.
How do I help her make that transition without making her feel less herself? Physically I do not think she can do it anymore. Her knees ache, she isn’t walking well and although she would make it to the thrift shop on her own I am not sure what would happen once she got there or if she would be able to drive home after walking around for an hour. Part of her knows this but part resists. Another piece of the pie that is mom falling off the plate.
It breaks my heart to be up front and personal for all these changes. How do I gently yet firmly express my concerns about her driving? How do I tell her she should not drive anymore, she has us and we will take her anyplace she wants to go? How do I deal with my own conflicts when I realize I didn’t take her some place when she wanted to go because I desperately needed some time for myself?
I am navigating some very rocky territory. The lines between parent and child are getting blurry. I am looking for the instruction manual for this program and am not finding it. It is a day at a time. It’s missteps and mistakes. It’s knowing smiles and hugs. It’s a place we talked about being but the reality is something different.
So how do I tell her I am no longer comfortable with the person who taught me how to drive being behind the wheel anymore? Right now I drop subtle hints, tell her about older friends deciding not to drive anymore and listen to her tel me if I had my car…

I remember watching those commercials for the medical alarms. There was an older person on the floor in the living room or the kitchen shouting to who knows who “ Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”. We would laugh so hard and imitate the people in the commercial. We thought it was sooo funny.
My mom does not want one of those bracelets or necklaces that notify some person that she has fallen and cannot get up. She always pictured herself landing in some embarrassing position or heaven forbid the bathroom and the faceless person would insist upon calling the EMTs. No, my mom will not have it. You see she says she doesn’t need it because she can just call me now and call she did well, actually she face timed me.
Yup, I was finishing up chores and my phone went off mom was FaceTiming me. Odd at that hour. I pick up the call and there she is, a little flushed leaning up against the couch in the living room. Mmm my mind is going to a few places here trying to make sense of this picture. Then she tells me she fell in the kitchen, her knee gave out and down she went like a sack of potatoes. She could not get up but did manage to get herself into the living room. If I could come over that would be great. No rush, she wasn’t going anywhere. SMH.
Of course I go right over. There she is, sitting on the floor watching tv with the cat in her lap. Wow, my mom was the lady in the medical alarm commercial. It took a few minutes to figure out the best way to get her up off the floor and on to the couch. She laughed when I imitated the commercial and started saying help I’ve fallen and I can only crawl to the living room. We laughed but inside it made me sad to see my mom as the lady in the commercial. She looked so small, so vulnerable, so frustrated that her body was betraying her. My heart ached for her and a little for myself too. It was another chink in the armor that was mom.
We never think about these moments when we are young. Never think a time will come when you will mother your mother. There really is no way to prepare for this privilege because it really is a bittersweet privilege. I get to be there for her as she has been for me.
Ive fallen and I can’t get up has taken on new meaning for me. It isn’t just a silly commercial with some actor person calling out to the world for help. It’s my mom, sitting on the floor trying to look calm and self assured as she FaceTimes with me to tell me she’s fallen and can’t get up.

Everything in life requires a certain amount of give and take. To much of one thing and not enough of another and things become lopsided. We, the care takers of the world, run the greatest risk of becoming lopsided because we spend very little time thinking about our own needs.
I started a todo list on my phone and in my planner when I arrived at my moms in June. My day quickly filled with doctor appointments, reminders to pick up medications, test schedules, packing lists, movers, realtors. It went on and on. Each moment of my day was planned and filled with the things someone else needed. Even Althea, moms cat, had dibs on my time. I thought once I got back home things would settle out, ha. Now I had two more people wanting time from me, two dogs desperate for my attention a small herd of animals to care for and I needed to get mom settled and acclimated in her new space. Wow, I am tired all over again just thinking about it.
I soon realized I needed to strike a balance in my day ( it only took me three weeks to come to this conclusion). I had just gotten home from chores and errands, was feeling bone tired. I had an entire list of things that needed doing for mom and I just couldn’t. I hadn’t had a moment for myself in two months. I was feeling waspish and annoyed about what was becoming my new normal. Don’t misunderstand, having mom here is a blessing. We laugh a lot, are making new memories and I am more at ease not having her 18 hours away, but the trade off is feeling like my life is not my own . A feeling I need to dump.
What I realized yesterday, the first day I had not spent with my mom in two months, is that I have lost my balance. I used to take time every morning to center myself for the day ahead. Now I found I was using that quiet time to go over lists of things needing attention. Balance is needed to keep me level, keep me moving forward and keep me me.
So, starting tomorrow my early morning hours will be devoted to me. I will not use that time to do laundry or add to my todo list. I will take that time to energize me for the day ahead and I will try to remember that it is ok to ask for help.
Balance. The ying and yang of a caretaker’s life.

We collect them. Put them on display on the backs of doors and on ornate hat racks, but how many do you actually wear. I find myself thinking a lot about hats these days. Not the ones we hang on the back of a door, or the ones we add to a collection to admire. I am thinking about the figurative hat that identifies us as a doer, a parent, a caregiver, a friend, spouse. I find that I am collecting more hats than I can wear these days. Some fit so well they feel like a second skin while others seem a little big and slide down over my eyes.
How do you balance the needs and demands that expand exponentially when the quasi parent to my parent hat shows up on your hat rack? I am not sure how to wear this one. Should I tilt it to the side or wear it straight up and proud? Will I offend if I am too forward? Will I drop the ball and miss something if I slide it back to far? This is a complicated hat to wear. I am her child but I am also her advocate, her person, the one who needs to have her back at all costs. Yet, I miss being the child in this equation. I miss my mom being my mom. The person who would look after me. The one who gave me an escape from the adult world and let me slip back into my childhood for a little while. I miss being mommed.
This damn hat I am now trying to wear doesn’t fit as well as I would like it to most likely because I really do not want it to. Let’s face it, who wants their parent to no longer be able to parent you. When you were young you never said I want to grow up to parent my parent. It isn’t really a life goal but, it is a reality. Our parents age, if we are lucky, and with age sometimes comes a diminished ability to handle ones own life alone.
So out comes the parent to my parent I’ve got your back hat. I’m gonna bedazzle the crap outa this thing and wear it like a fedora. I will remember all the moments she had my back, she eased my confusion, and made things better for me and I will pay it forward. I will ease into this hat and make it work because at the end of the day it’s just a hat.

Who would have thought it would be so difficult to find a doctor in 2020.
As we were preparing for this move from Florida to New Jersey I truly thought I had all my ducks in a row. We had all our final visits, checked all the medications for refills, spoke with all her doctors. Simple right? I thought we would arrive, get settled and then I would call our family doctor of 20 some odd years and tada! Nope. I called and was told they are not seeing new patients due to Covid!? Ok, and this is the response I received from a few other offices and the ones who will see her cannot until late September or October. Wow eye opener.
This is a strange new world in many ways. I knew things would be different once mom moved closer to us but I didn’t count on the additional complications Covid was going to add. What I thought would be a simple matter of calling a doctors office has turned into a maze of rejection, frustration and yes, a bit of anger. I mean, this is my 87 year old mom. She has Cancer. She needs to have a primary to monitor her thyroid and blood pressure. She needs a doctor to care for her now not in two months. One office told me to use Urgent Care? I said you do realize this person has cancer and a suppressed immune system right. The response, yes dear and you do understand I said we are not seeing new patients until Covid is gone. WT proverbial F?!
A little luck is all I needed. I changed directions and found a cancer doctor who will see her in a couple of weeks as a new patient, from there a friends GP who will also see in a couple of weeks as well. I went to see our pharmacist and asked for recommendations and help with transferring moms meds. I was met by a friendly face, a smile and a you got this. I felt less alone for the first time in weeks.
A little luck was all I needed to get past this hurdle. A little luck is all we need sometimes to keep moving forward, to keep our momentum going in this strange new world we find ourselves in . Just a little luck makes all the difference when I look into my moms eyes and tell her we got this and she smiles and says yes you do.

This has been on our minds for a long time. It has been several years in the making and so did not turn out the way we thought it would.
The conversation always went round and round, the timing was never quite right and then in the blink of an eye it just was. The phone rang and there was this confused tired person on the other end so unlike my perky mom. She couldn’t find something, couldn’t get something else to work and just plain didn’t want to be there on her own any more. Would I please come now. So I did. I got in a plane, rented a car and walked through the kitchen door a scant 20 hours later. That is how it works, in the blink of an eye life changes……….
We had a plan, my older sister and I. We did all things m&d together for the past few years; Dads dementia, Moms cancer. We had a plan until she left us unexpectedly on a Sunday 10 days after Dad. Everything changed in the blink of an eye, but life is like that.
So, we are on the road home together. Figuring things out as we go along. Getting some things right and fine tuning others. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry and then others we shrug and say what you gonna do. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time and we will bring mom home together. We will make new memories, laugh and cry sometimes but, we will enjoy each moment of the ride. Savor the moments and look forward to seeing what lies in wait for us on the road home.

I am my mother’s daughter.
This phrase never rang more true than it has in the past months. My mom always did what was needed. Always seemed to find the wear with all to get it done in such a way as to make it look easy. I remember the Christmas after her mother passed away and my dad had a very bad case of flu but mom still made it happen. We had a tree, stockings, gifts and dad sitting on the steps watching it all as mom went through the motions. We didn’t realize this until years later. She was and is a steel magnolia.
Today I find myself in a place I never really thought I would be in. I am on a journey with my mom. She can no longer take this trip on her own. She needs a little help and some company. The lyrics from Dean Friedman’s song Company run through my head a lot these days…. We will keep her company. I will help her navigate the bends in the road, avoid some of the potholes and get up the hills to see what’s next on this road home. I see myself in her and I hope I am able to be, as she is, a steel magnolia.
This is who I am….. my mother myself….may I live up to it.

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

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Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

• Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
• Because it will help you focus your own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

• Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
• What topics do you think you’ll write about?
• Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
• If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.