Shannon says mom is fine and there's no need to come home a day early. She's on antibiotics and as ornery as ever. While Shannon had her out doing a million errands for her, she told Shannon, "Hold in your stomach." Shannon responded, "Sorry Nanny, it's not going to happen. I'm three months pregnant." She knew that already.
When I was 17 years old, pregnant with Brooke, and living at my parent's place here in Lake Tahoe, with my mom, she put me on an incredibly strict diet. 1/2 cup Cream of Wheat, 1/2 banana, 1/4 cup nonfat milk, 1/2 pack od Sweet n Low, everyday for breakfast. She made a hot meal of meat and vegetables for lunch, and allowed me to eat one apple at night. That was it for the three months we lived together. And I was a kid, I listened. If I didn't, she shamed me into listening. I am 5'8" tall, and when I went into the hospital to have Brooke, I weighed 136 pounds.
I guess I am most grateful to my mom for showing me who I don't want to be.
Today I found the most wonderful blog called "At Bea's Bedside", written by a daughter who cared for her parents at home until their deaths. Right now I am so moved by her words and so envious. She did it, did it beautifully, and she's done. My family is talking about mom needing assisted living. Everyone is in agreement and I know if it is anyone's responsibility to care for her at home, being her only daughter, it is mine. So far, I just cannot make that commitment. I toyed with the idea a few months ago, and tried her for a visit; it was terrible.
Thursday she was to see her doctor and have her accupuncture treatment. So Thursday evening I thought I'd like to call her and see how they went. I also knew that she probably missed my visits and would be happy to hear from me. Wrong. She went on for 20 minutes straight about how no one cares about her. Finally I reminded her that by being sure someone is there for her everyday of the week shows how we care for her. And yes, I was angry and said it with an agravated voice. She snorted back in a sweet, sing-songy voice, "Go ahead, Marianne. Get it all out of your system. Tell me how wrong I am. Everyone else does." I gathered myself, I said, "Mom, the sentiment is nice. I'm trying to tell you that everyone DOES care for you." Long, long pause. Absolute quiet. Then another snip of, "Well, I'll let you go. I can tell when you don't want to talk to me." End of conversation.
She cuts like a knife.
(that verbal erasure)
I'm really OK, and quite ready to go out and adventure through my last day at Donner Lake. I'll let you know where it takes me! The sun is bright and there are so many birds singing outside this kitchen window. Binoculars, anyone? Shall I go buy myself a new toy? I've been thinking about them since this postCelebration of Me, last year, right HERE!