Friday, June 1, 2001
Overall, it went well... - To LTF
...really. If it had gone extremely well, though, I wouldn't be taking out a moment from facing down an impossibly busy 36 hours to relate (probably, the word "confess" would be better, even though you aren't a priest) The One Hard Moment to you.
The Cast: Eight of us, including MPBIL's dad and stepmother, MPNP of course, it was his celebration, MPNC, MPS, Mom and me. I feel as though I should capitalize "me".
We were at an Italian restaurant for MPNP's celebratory graduation meal seated "family style", Me second to the last on the booth side, Mom catty corner from me on the other side. We all know each other very well and often pick seats at such dinners according to spur of the moment conversation. As it happened, MPNC and Mom had been having a lively conversation. I was feeling excellent and having a lively, fairly loud time, myself. Everyone was feeling so good the entire table forgot to say grace. This is a long way of saying I became totally and happily caught up in the event. The dinner lasted exactly two hours. First bread was served with salad, then dinners were passed around. My mother ordered a lasagna/spaghetti plate.
I became aware of her somewhere deep into the eating-dinner portion of the soiree, maybe a half hour before we left. From her position at the other end of the table she had become cut off from conversation. She had what looked like a long empty salad plate in front of her, a large, rapidly cooling plate of lasagna/spaghetti to her right and was completely absorbed in what I later understood was the Puzzle of the Plates. We were all zestfully polishing off our entrees but she hadn't begun hers. I flushed in horror that I had lost track of her for so long that, well, that this had happened. I understood the scenario, immediately: She hadn't voluntarily pushed her salad plate away and since she had forgotten, almost before she uttered it, what she'd ordered because she was caught up in the merriment when her entree was served she didn't recognize it. She thought it was someone else's. Luckily, she had helped herself, MPBIL's dad (he had been noticing her out of the corner of his eye) assured me, over and over to salad (she likes Antipasto salad except for the black olives, which she normally and without a word passes onto my plate) and pretty much chowed down on the Renewing Breadbasket. I was somewhat relieved to hear this but I was, and still am, very, I hate to use this word but I'm in such a hurry that I don't have time to think of another, "conflicted" about what happened. On the one hand I certainly don't regret the good time I had. Frankly, if I'd been sitting next to her I would have just as good a time. And being aware of her behavior and short term memory in restaurants (it always happens that she doesn't remember what she orders) I would have been alert to reminding her, "Mom, you have lasagna and spaghetti here to eat." Ironically, I was the one who semi-arranged our seating by noticing that the chairs sat higher to the table than did the booth and, knowing she would sink table-to-chin on the booth side, I nonchalantly directed her to the chair side and didn't notice where she sat. I feel more angst-ridden than guilty. My mother, most of the time, is alert enough to eat when she is very hungry. Welllll..., almost most of the time. She is getting to the place where she needs to be reminded to eat. I'm not planning on reducing my fun or what should more accurately be called my sense of fun; it enlivens my mother's life. I guess I just have to keep better track of her. I don't think my dropping of attention was a Freudian slip. I know that "Grandma" and MPNC headed over to the corner because it was the least noisy and they were conversing. I also know I ended up at the other end because I was one of the celebrators making noise. But my heart aches that I allowed this to happen and that it could happen again. Luckily, none of the incident caused Mom to feel bad or to under eat. But I know she was lost in her own little world for about an hour, give or take, and could have been partaking of the revelry. Damn. I'm going to try to be more observant.
The Cast: Eight of us, including MPBIL's dad and stepmother, MPNP of course, it was his celebration, MPNC, MPS, Mom and me. I feel as though I should capitalize "me".
We were at an Italian restaurant for MPNP's celebratory graduation meal seated "family style", Me second to the last on the booth side, Mom catty corner from me on the other side. We all know each other very well and often pick seats at such dinners according to spur of the moment conversation. As it happened, MPNC and Mom had been having a lively conversation. I was feeling excellent and having a lively, fairly loud time, myself. Everyone was feeling so good the entire table forgot to say grace. This is a long way of saying I became totally and happily caught up in the event. The dinner lasted exactly two hours. First bread was served with salad, then dinners were passed around. My mother ordered a lasagna/spaghetti plate.
I became aware of her somewhere deep into the eating-dinner portion of the soiree, maybe a half hour before we left. From her position at the other end of the table she had become cut off from conversation. She had what looked like a long empty salad plate in front of her, a large, rapidly cooling plate of lasagna/spaghetti to her right and was completely absorbed in what I later understood was the Puzzle of the Plates. We were all zestfully polishing off our entrees but she hadn't begun hers. I flushed in horror that I had lost track of her for so long that, well, that this had happened. I understood the scenario, immediately: She hadn't voluntarily pushed her salad plate away and since she had forgotten, almost before she uttered it, what she'd ordered because she was caught up in the merriment when her entree was served she didn't recognize it. She thought it was someone else's. Luckily, she had helped herself, MPBIL's dad (he had been noticing her out of the corner of his eye) assured me, over and over to salad (she likes Antipasto salad except for the black olives, which she normally and without a word passes onto my plate) and pretty much chowed down on the Renewing Breadbasket. I was somewhat relieved to hear this but I was, and still am, very, I hate to use this word but I'm in such a hurry that I don't have time to think of another, "conflicted" about what happened. On the one hand I certainly don't regret the good time I had. Frankly, if I'd been sitting next to her I would have just as good a time. And being aware of her behavior and short term memory in restaurants (it always happens that she doesn't remember what she orders) I would have been alert to reminding her, "Mom, you have lasagna and spaghetti here to eat." Ironically, I was the one who semi-arranged our seating by noticing that the chairs sat higher to the table than did the booth and, knowing she would sink table-to-chin on the booth side, I nonchalantly directed her to the chair side and didn't notice where she sat. I feel more angst-ridden than guilty. My mother, most of the time, is alert enough to eat when she is very hungry. Welllll..., almost most of the time. She is getting to the place where she needs to be reminded to eat. I'm not planning on reducing my fun or what should more accurately be called my sense of fun; it enlivens my mother's life. I guess I just have to keep better track of her. I don't think my dropping of attention was a Freudian slip. I know that "Grandma" and MPNC headed over to the corner because it was the least noisy and they were conversing. I also know I ended up at the other end because I was one of the celebrators making noise. But my heart aches that I allowed this to happen and that it could happen again. Luckily, none of the incident caused Mom to feel bad or to under eat. But I know she was lost in her own little world for about an hour, give or take, and could have been partaking of the revelry. Damn. I'm going to try to be more observant.
Wednesday, May 30, 2001
Dueling Dispositions - To LTF
My mother's cousin is gone. It was a good visit. My mother was more active than usual. Her cousin eats exactly the same foods as my mother with one exception. She is a "meat, potatoes and mixtures" (mixtures without discernable vegetables, that is) person. The potatoes are the exception. My mother is a bread person instead of a potatoes person. What is it about my mother's generation of farm belt natives that they lead long, sturdy lives without the aid of vegetables???
Her cousin also announced when she arrived that she "needs a nap or two during the day." It was like having four cats in the house and not just because of the sleeping! I established a routine with my mother when I first arrived to live with her to make sure she gets touched and stimulated enough her skin doesn't dry out and she purrs at least once a day: After she bathes I massage lotion into every part of her that isn't covered by underwear. When I did this on Sunday Mom's cousin mentioned that it looks relaxing. My mother assured her it is. From that day through this morning I included Mom's cousin in the routine. When I do this with my mother the cats array themselves close around waiting for their turn at what I've come to call a "full body pet" (sans lotion for The Girls). One of the many satisfactions of the visit for me was the hour or so when I had four beings hanging out in the living room in various stages of undress waiting to be petted into a late morning nap.
She also loved the hot chocolate (no orange extract, thank you), and insisted we have it every evening much to my mother's delight. My mother's blood sugar rose a bit but I'm not worried; her spirits followed.
In the meantime, MCS called back. She and her husband have decided to drive out sometime before June 22nd, which is when her daughter and family arrive, and stay at a motel. She seemed relieved and excited about the visit. I assured her there would be no problem with spending the days they were here outside.
My mother's cousin loves television and introduced my mother to several shows that I shudder to think will now be a permanent feature of the background noise here in the evening. She follows all the "reality" shows which, luckily, do not interest my mother. Doubly luck, none of them (of which Mom's cousin knew) were being televised while she was here but baseball was and she's a fanatic. She watched all the games she was in the house to catch.
At one point we saw a commercial for a new reality show. I watched the commercial trying to figure what is so attractive about these shows. As the commercial reviewed the set-up I was struck by the fact that it described the outcasting, week-by-week, of one of the "contestants" with as much glee as it described the coming together of 12 (I think that was the number) into a close knit, interdependent community. Suddenly I thought, shit! That's it! People are enthralled by these little dramas because we are overcrowding ourselves and starting to practice for what will become, again, of our sense of the human community (since human overcrowding on a limited scale has been going on forever and is what has encouraged frontiersmanship, which is impossible in regards to land, anymore) until we thin ourselves out enough to be relatively comfortable again. I don't think this is inevitable. We do have the ability to think beyond aggression and, as we have occasionally shown, to act beyond aggression. Whether and when we will this time is another question. But I'm still glad my mother has no interest in these shows.
Mom's cousin's visit involved only one "bad" day: Monday. I woke up in a pit and had trouble climbing out. I tried to hide my distress with a "bearish", according to Mom's cousin, silence. Then I started sobbing over a skillet of bacon. About halfway through a very trying day (for me, not for my mother and her cousin; they are both unaffected by others' bad moods) I realized that it was the day after the last day of my period. I learned a long time ago that this is always a horrible day for me but it always takes me by surprise. It is especially surprising for me now because my periods, while no fewer (in fact, I'm having a few more a year than I was when I wasn't menopausal), no longer follow a schedule. In the last year I've had everything from a 7 day cycle with a 2 day flow similar to an artery being sliced to a 73 day cycle (the one I just completed) with a 12 day flow that was so light I wasn't ever sure until the day-after day if I was still flowing. Anyway, when I realized this and explained myself Mom's cousin suggested that it was probably menopausal and I should "go to a doctor and get it over with". I tried explaining to her that if I was being affected by the hormone fluctuations of menopause I couldn't tell it and saw no reason to dispel them because I've always considered my mood fluctuations phenomenal, interesting and have nurtured rather than controlled them. I also explained that the only menopausal symptom I believe I'm experiencing is outrageous cycles, which I can live with, so I don't see any reason to treat myself.
Actually, I've been taking soy isoflavone pills for several months hoping they might even out the cycles, but they're having absolutely no effect. Now I'm taking them because soy isoflavones are supposed to be good for your memory, according to my mother, who takes by choice 9 different supplements every morning. She's been a vitamin addict ever since I can remember. When I was very young she'd pass out these horrible tasting, round, orange vitamins that I would hold in my mouth until she turned her back. Then I'd place them under the leg of a chair which, of course, rendered our dining room chairs somewhat less mobile than normal.
My mother's cousin didn't get it but my mother leaned into her and confided, much to my surprise, "She's always been like that. If you just wait her out she'll be fine in a day or so. It makes life interesting." What a statement for my mother to make! I immediately laughed and dropped the guilt I've been feeling for being so unlike my mother, emotionally. Apparently it doesn't bother her that I'm not perpetually sunny.
Time for me to pay bills, do some surface cleaning in preparation for the Pull-Apart-The-Shed Party, which will happen this Sunday and prepare for our trip to Mesa tomorrow.
As a footnote, I am falling behind again but at least I am not unplugging the phone.
Her cousin also announced when she arrived that she "needs a nap or two during the day." It was like having four cats in the house and not just because of the sleeping! I established a routine with my mother when I first arrived to live with her to make sure she gets touched and stimulated enough her skin doesn't dry out and she purrs at least once a day: After she bathes I massage lotion into every part of her that isn't covered by underwear. When I did this on Sunday Mom's cousin mentioned that it looks relaxing. My mother assured her it is. From that day through this morning I included Mom's cousin in the routine. When I do this with my mother the cats array themselves close around waiting for their turn at what I've come to call a "full body pet" (sans lotion for The Girls). One of the many satisfactions of the visit for me was the hour or so when I had four beings hanging out in the living room in various stages of undress waiting to be petted into a late morning nap.
She also loved the hot chocolate (no orange extract, thank you), and insisted we have it every evening much to my mother's delight. My mother's blood sugar rose a bit but I'm not worried; her spirits followed.
In the meantime, MCS called back. She and her husband have decided to drive out sometime before June 22nd, which is when her daughter and family arrive, and stay at a motel. She seemed relieved and excited about the visit. I assured her there would be no problem with spending the days they were here outside.
My mother's cousin loves television and introduced my mother to several shows that I shudder to think will now be a permanent feature of the background noise here in the evening. She follows all the "reality" shows which, luckily, do not interest my mother. Doubly luck, none of them (of which Mom's cousin knew) were being televised while she was here but baseball was and she's a fanatic. She watched all the games she was in the house to catch.
At one point we saw a commercial for a new reality show. I watched the commercial trying to figure what is so attractive about these shows. As the commercial reviewed the set-up I was struck by the fact that it described the outcasting, week-by-week, of one of the "contestants" with as much glee as it described the coming together of 12 (I think that was the number) into a close knit, interdependent community. Suddenly I thought, shit! That's it! People are enthralled by these little dramas because we are overcrowding ourselves and starting to practice for what will become, again, of our sense of the human community (since human overcrowding on a limited scale has been going on forever and is what has encouraged frontiersmanship, which is impossible in regards to land, anymore) until we thin ourselves out enough to be relatively comfortable again. I don't think this is inevitable. We do have the ability to think beyond aggression and, as we have occasionally shown, to act beyond aggression. Whether and when we will this time is another question. But I'm still glad my mother has no interest in these shows.
Mom's cousin's visit involved only one "bad" day: Monday. I woke up in a pit and had trouble climbing out. I tried to hide my distress with a "bearish", according to Mom's cousin, silence. Then I started sobbing over a skillet of bacon. About halfway through a very trying day (for me, not for my mother and her cousin; they are both unaffected by others' bad moods) I realized that it was the day after the last day of my period. I learned a long time ago that this is always a horrible day for me but it always takes me by surprise. It is especially surprising for me now because my periods, while no fewer (in fact, I'm having a few more a year than I was when I wasn't menopausal), no longer follow a schedule. In the last year I've had everything from a 7 day cycle with a 2 day flow similar to an artery being sliced to a 73 day cycle (the one I just completed) with a 12 day flow that was so light I wasn't ever sure until the day-after day if I was still flowing. Anyway, when I realized this and explained myself Mom's cousin suggested that it was probably menopausal and I should "go to a doctor and get it over with". I tried explaining to her that if I was being affected by the hormone fluctuations of menopause I couldn't tell it and saw no reason to dispel them because I've always considered my mood fluctuations phenomenal, interesting and have nurtured rather than controlled them. I also explained that the only menopausal symptom I believe I'm experiencing is outrageous cycles, which I can live with, so I don't see any reason to treat myself.
Actually, I've been taking soy isoflavone pills for several months hoping they might even out the cycles, but they're having absolutely no effect. Now I'm taking them because soy isoflavones are supposed to be good for your memory, according to my mother, who takes by choice 9 different supplements every morning. She's been a vitamin addict ever since I can remember. When I was very young she'd pass out these horrible tasting, round, orange vitamins that I would hold in my mouth until she turned her back. Then I'd place them under the leg of a chair which, of course, rendered our dining room chairs somewhat less mobile than normal.
My mother's cousin didn't get it but my mother leaned into her and confided, much to my surprise, "She's always been like that. If you just wait her out she'll be fine in a day or so. It makes life interesting." What a statement for my mother to make! I immediately laughed and dropped the guilt I've been feeling for being so unlike my mother, emotionally. Apparently it doesn't bother her that I'm not perpetually sunny.
Time for me to pay bills, do some surface cleaning in preparation for the Pull-Apart-The-Shed Party, which will happen this Sunday and prepare for our trip to Mesa tomorrow.
As a footnote, I am falling behind again but at least I am not unplugging the phone.
