PINATA

My mom’s older brother, my favorite uncle has lived in an over fifty-five mobile home community for over thirty-five years. Unfortunately, a few years back it changed allowing families with kids to move in. As luck would have it, my uncle lives near the family from hell. 

Now I love my uncle very much, I see him at least twice a week and talk to him at least three times a day. He is so different from my mom; he eats right, exercises, mows the lawn, does his own wash, cooks and never complains. He will babysit my mom with only a moments notice so I can get away. 

When my dad passed away, he moved in with my mom to help out. I thought this was great, what could be been better. My uncle would watch out for her safety, he would get a quiet place to live, and they both would have companionship. 

Wrong, after six weeks, he couldn’t do it, she drove him nuts. I guess he decided it was better to live in hell then with my mom. 

Now, my kids Paul and Muriel have a large home and no kids, so they have offered my uncle a room in their home. My husband decided to paint and update the light fixtures and fan to be more masculine. My uncle’s mobile home appeared to sell faster then expected and his new room wasn’t ready. Since it was being paid in full (cash) and being sold furnished, the transaction was going to be done in one day. So my uncle was to move in with my mom and us for a few days. My mom was aware of this temporary move, we discussed it daily. 

The morning he was moving in, it happened, she started on me like I was a Piñata and she was this crazy Mexican kid with a big stick. All sides, all angles I was spinning like a cheap top trying not to get hit. 

“Nancy, why are you moving your clothes out of the extra room?”
“Chilo’s moving in for a few days.”
“Good, I don’t want you here.”
“Mom, I’m not moving.”
“You could move I don’t need you now that Chilo’s staying with me.”
“Mom, he’s not moving in to live with you, he’ll only be here a few days until his room is ready at Paul’s and Muriel’s”
“I never asked you to move in.”
“Mom, I’m not moving.”
“I know you don’t want to be here, I see your face.”
“My face, what does my face have to do with this?”
“You don’t want to be here.”
“You could tell this by my face?”
“All I’m doing is moving my clothes from one closet to another that should tell you I’m staying. Moving my clothes to a suitcase or the car would tell you I’m moving.”
“I’m glad you’re going.”
“Mom, I’m not going anywhere, except crazy.” 
“You’ve always been crazy, and now you’re trying to make me crazy.”
(Make you crazy, you’ve been parked on that road for some time.)
“Mom, relax, Chilo’s only going to be here a few days, nothing changing.”
“Well, why doesn’t he just stay and you leave?”
“He doesn’t want to live with you because you drive him nuts.”
“Are you staying?”
“Yes, mom I already told you, I’m staying.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“I know.” 

Then, she put the stick down, looked around for candy, then went and took a nap. 

The sale fell through, since all my uncle’s clothes and personal items are at my son’s, I asked him to stay with us a few days. He looked at me, and smiles. “Are you crazy?” 

We now have another blog in the family my daughter Dana has now joined the ranks with me and Muriel.

You’ve Always Been Lazy

Well, number nine of things my mom says daily that drives me nuts is, “you’ve always been lazy.” I however, like to think of it as conserving energy. 

Once my mother married my dad, she became a typical 1950’s housewife; she never worked outside the home and never learned to drive. I on the other hand married in the 70’s, had my kids then went to work, part time when my youngest went into the first grade. No, my kids weren’t latch key kids; my husband worked nights so one of us was always home. 

So my mom and I are completely different. She dusted and vacuumed everyday, her mission was to keep the house clean all day. Well, to her I was lazy, I cleaned every two or three days, and my mission was not to lose one of the kids among the tents made from sofa cushions and blankets. 

She thought I was lazy spending more time and energy on sports, dance, gymnastics, school functions and work, instead of keeping house full-time. 

Once my kids got older, I worked fulltime, and due my parent’s declining health juggled family, parents, work and housework. My day would start out at four-thirty. I would shower and dress for work, drive to my parents at five-thirty, leave daily medications, check my dad, and do a catheter on my mom, then be at work by seven am. 

Breaks and lunch, I would call home to check if everything was ok. After work I would drive to their house check on medications, do another catheter for my mom, ensure dinner was done, I would get home around five-thirty. 

Since my dad passed, I no longer worked, my fulltime job is to take care of my mom twenty-four seven. My mom’s only job is watch my every move or as she thinks my non moves; 

“Nancy, are you going to do the laundry?”
“No.”
“Are you just going to let it pile up?”
“Mom, there’s three towels, two pairs of underwear from Paul and I, one t-shirt and blouse, not enough for one load of anything.”
“I don’t know how you can be so lazy.”
 
“Nancy, are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?”
“No.”
“Are you going to start it tonight?”
“No, I’ll start it when I have a full load.”
“Why don’t you just wash them by hand, you shouldn’t be so lazy.”
 
“Nancy, get my Ensure.”
“Nancy, can you shut the bathroom window?”
“Nancy can you start the shower?”
“Can you get me a towel?”
“Nancy, button up my housecoat.”
“Can you help me put on my slippers?”
“Did you forget my cream?”
“Get my cereal and milk.”
“Turn on the TV, turn off the light.”
 
“Why are you here, I don’t need you during the day. Ever since you were little, you’ve been lazy, do something.”
“I am.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting for your next command.”
“Don’t get smart.”
“I’m too lazy to get smart.”
 
“How, can you do puzzles, watch TV or sit at the computer all day?”
“Mom, there’s nothing else for me to do until its time to get Mac from school.”
“I could never just sit like you and do nothing, I was never lazy.” 

So to show her I wasn’t lazy I got up and moved to another chair.

Snap, Crackle and Pop

When I read in the newspaper or listen to the news, and their talking about some one who just seemed to have snapped, I wonder what could have pushed them so far, that they lost control. 

SNAP, my mother. 

For twenty-nine months, almost everyday my mom has pushed me to my boiling point. Right when it seems like I’m going to spill, over she pulls back, lets me simmer then turns up the heat again. 

Well, it happened again, this time, I SNAPPED, and CRACKLED. 

She was on me the day before. From the moment she woke up until the time she went to bed, nonstop.  I could do nothing, or say anything right. Add to it she would not eat. Two Enusre’s, maybe two spoonfuls of cereal, before she threw it in the sink. That was it all day. 

She knows it brothers me when she doesn’t eat. So at six pm, I took in one slice of roast cut into little pieces, broccoli, half of a small potato and two slices of tomato. I didn’t say anything just left it on the table next to her. 

The next morning, she came out of her room carrying the plate I gave her the night before. She said good morning, smiled made sure I saw the plate before she dropped it into the sink, the only thing she ate was the broccoli. 

I heard the POP, I felt a little lightheaded, and the next thing I was on my feet. 

Yes, I was able to control myself, enough not to do anything I would be sorry for. But, I wasn’t controlled enough not to tell her how upset, angry and tired of her games I am. 

Yes, I have let her know how I felt before, but this time it was different. I was about one foot away, eye to eye. She was sitting in her chair I was hovering over. No escape route she was stuck in the chair, and I was stuck on stupid. 

I explained, what I mean by broken record, I explained the difference between a pity party and a regular party. I explained that her lack of protein was causing her type of dementia to get worse, this time instead of saying her brain was misfiring, I said her brain was starving and rotting from lack of proper nutrition.  

I was doing an impression of a 78 rpm record nonstop, not skipping a beat. Only this time she couldn’t look away, eye to eye baby. When I was done, had I been a smoker I would have smoked a pack, if I was a drinker, it would have been bottoms up. I was exhausted. 

When it was all over, she didn’t say a word; she just looked at my husband in the kitchen and said, “What are you laughing at?” He wasn’t laughing he was trying to decide if he should spray me down with the fire extinguisher or throw it at me. He did however, make the right decision to let me explode rather than implode. 

I instantly felt relieved, my shoulders and neck weren’t so stiff, my mind was clearer. 

For about an hour she said nothing, then she looked at me and said, “I’m hungry.” She either didn’t hear a thing I said, or didn’t care. 

“I’m hungry, what do we have to eat?”
“Spaghetti, roast or fajitas.”
“Nothing sounds good, what else do we have?”
“Nothing else, I’m no longer a short order cook, making you something special only for you to throw it out, now you’ll eat what we eat.”
“Spaghetti.” 

Yes, I make a meat sauce, and what it is, is that my mom will not eat “meat”. So when she sat down she painstaking started to pick the meat out. I walked over leaned over her and her bowl and said, 

“Didn’t you hear me earlier when I was explaining that your brain was rotting from lack of protein?”
“I heard you.”
“Do you not care, do you not realize that if you get worse you will be in a home, I can no longer do it by myself, you need to take some responsibility.”
“I’ll eat the meat, but I’m probably going to throw up.” 

Well, it’s been five days since Snap, Crackle and Pop, and she has not given me any real problems since then. 

One last thing, my mother never eats hamburger, well this week she ate a cheeseburger from In & Out. 

I was so shocked; I picked up the Times and turned on CNN to see if Hell froze over.

Footnote: On the sixth day she was back to her old games.