Mom’s Gotta Go

Since coming back from my vacation, my life’s been hell.

First, my uncle passed away on September 4th. He was 93 years old and had lived a full and wonderful life. My aunt and uncle had no children, so I have been going back and forth (an hour and twenty minutes one-way) to help the best I can. My aunt is one of my father’s sisters (of 13 siblings total).

My mom has not been a happy camper with me being gone on vacation, and now, splitting the time spent with her and my aunt. Let’s see, last count, out of the last 10 days, my mom has asked me to leave and not come back 6 times.

Well, I’m tired and now I’m listening to my family. My husband, children, uncle, brother, and close family-friends are now telling me, “Moms gotta go.”

It doesn’t mean, “she’s gotta go”. She just has to think she’s going.

The other day was the last straw.

I had been staying out on the days she asked me not to come back. Each day, I returned after dark around eight, or 8:30. There, she would be waiting at the window for my return.

The next morning, my uncle would tell me that Mom called, saying I was not home all day. “What does she expect when she asks you to leave?” She finally asked him to move in with her. “No way. You’re too hard and stubborn to live with.” She hung up.

My aunt then told me Mom called her too, hinting for her to move in. She has tried explaining to Mom to look at her family and see how lucky she is to have someone wanting to take care of her, but she just doesn’t get it.

Well, I was going to my daughter’s to help pack for their trip to Venice and Monte Carlo. I cooked lunch for my mom in case she got hungry before I got home. I took a small plate, with half of a breaded chicken breast, 1/4 of a cup of squash, and about 6 slices of zucchini.

“Mom, I’m putting this plate in the refrigerator.”
“I’m not going to eat it.”
“You just have to nuke it one minute.”
“I’m not going to eat it.”
“It’s chicken breast, cut up into bite-size pieces with…”
“I’m not going to eat it.”
“Mom, let me finish talking. I don’t care if you eat it. I’m just telling you what there is to eat.”
“I don’t like the way you talk to me.”
“You don’t like the way I talk to you? What about the way you’ve been talking to me over the last twenty months.”
“Just go and don’t come back.”

Again, “Mom’s gotta go”.

It seems retirement homes (not convalescent homes) will let you move in even if it’s just for one month. This is my answer. I explained to my mom, since she is not willing to exercise, drink enough fluids, and eat one balanced meal, she’s gotta go. I can no longer argue with her or take how she talks.

So, I’m now in the process of putting her in for one month (she thinks forever). She will hopefully realize she needs to make an effort in eating, making healthier choices, and learning how to speak nicely with those who have chosen to take care of her. If not, she can stay there, you never know, maybe she’ll like it.

All I know is “Mom’s gotta go”.


1 Response to “Mom’s Gotta Go”

  1. 1 Tamara September 13, 2008 at 6:31 pm

    My goodness. I am so sorry youahve to deal with all that! I can’t even imagine. Big hugs for ya!

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