It's trash day. Trash, recycling and miscellaneous out to the curb no later than 7 AM or we'll miss the pick-up, and that, I can assure you, would not be a good thing.
It's pool season, or it will be next week. The pool needs to be cleaned, pH balanced, and backwashed.
It's almost summer. The lawn needs mowing and the yard and porch furniture needs to come out.
It's Memorial Day weekend. We usually go camping, set up things for friends and family, and generally plan a good time.
It's time to plant the vegetable garden. Ordinarily that would have been done last weekend.
I obviously have a few obligations: A chronically ill child, a mom with dementia, a home, and a job that tends to use up all of my free time. Hubby made an unexpected trip to Florida to help his older sister, who fell and broke her leg. He's been gone nearly a week and has a week to go.
Every single thing on the above list except the garden usually falls into the "honey do" category. He is the trash man, the pool guy, and the camp packer. I'm the cleaner, pet-carer, gardener and dementia-problem solver. This week, needless to say, has had its special challenges. In order to take a weekend off I need to find someone to check in on Mom at least twice daily, someone to take care of the pets, and a campsite and all the stuff needed to make a camping weekend work. In order to not be inundated by trash, I have to remember when to put it out and still find time to be the one who collects the trash on the inside of the house. And in order to keep the pool on its spring-clean schedule, I have to try to remember all that Hubby tried to teach me in three minutes about how to run the pool filter. And then there's work, job, friends, church and grandchildren.
I've pared my life back quite a bit. No extra work hours. No choir. Very few obligations outside of my home that I can't cancel at the last minute if need be. But these extra little kinks just keep rolling in.
My older brother generously offered to come for a weekend and help with Mom. I asked if he could come Memorial Day so we could go camping and not worry. Well.....since then he did make a trip up here, the weekend Mom moved. He discovered that his awesome electric car takes 12 hours (driving plus recharging) to travel the 3 1/2 hr trip. He's likely thinking that he won't be coming up too often.
Things get done. Not always efficiently, not always in as timely a fashion as usual, but they get done. Mom's good friend has voluteered to stay with her this weekend and mind the pets. Babygirl has agreed that camping can wait for another weekend, and we're going to go visit Grampa. Paperwork is done, the house looks reasonably tidy especially since Babygirl has taken up some extra household slack this week. We'll leave Saturday instead of Friday. We'll maybe shop for plants tonight and see about garden layout and seeding as time permits. I'll maybe vacuum the pool on Saturday morning in the cool of the day. The porch has an umbrella and some chairs, and the rest can wait. The laundry is done.
I've joked about "mindfulness" in the past, but it is a good discipline. Keeping my mind from leaping like a cricket from on item on the to-do list to another is a skill I am finally beginning to master. Making the to-do list is actually part of the process. Listing what needs doing, setting priorities and following those priorities is a good stress reliever. I don't need to deal with the garden until I've managed the paperwork. I don't need to do the paperwork until I've confirmed that someone is coming to take care of Mom this weekend. I don't need to rush and leave on Friday if it gives me more freedom from stress to cross off a few more things. I don't need to deal with the 10th thing on the list until I've handled the 9th. Focusing fully on the task at hand takes off most of the pressure. Sure, sometimes I feel like mindfulness is just a way of slamming the lid on Pandora's box. Absolutely, that cricket in my head just keeps hopping some days.
Today is not one of those days. I am at rest.
DeeDee
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Playing Cards.....
My mom can no longer play a card game.
My mom is a card sharp. She's one of those people who can count cards, know what you're likely to be collecting, knows fifteen different versions of rummy, and takes winning with all the serious intensity of champion chess players. She has quick hands and very dangerous fingernails. She plots the downfall of her opponents as craftily as a general planning to storm the beaches of a foreign country. She once read a book entitled Chess for Fun and Blood. My dad began to refuse to play chess with her.
Last night I invited her to play Phase Ten (for those of you who don't spend your evenings devising ways to beat the crap out of your kids, it's a rummy-like game). Each player completes simple hands: 2 sets of three, a set of 3 and a run of 4 etc. with a card in front of each listing what is needed for each phase. Mom couldn't do it.
Quite aside from the difficulty her arthritic hands had with holding her cards, she couldn't remember what phase she was on (okay, not unexpected). But more alarming was the fact that she couldn't grasp the difference between 'set' and 'run'. The card colors confused her. By the end of the game she was starting to need fewer prompts, but we were both to tired to try a second hand.
Less than two years ago she was still able to learn to play a new game. Now, she is losing her ability to play the old ones.
There is a memoir written by a local author called The House on Beartown Road. The author is simultaneously caring for her infant daughter and her declining father. It is a poignant tale observing both ends of life meeting and passing each other: Baby learning to talk, Dad forgetting how. Each noticeable loss comes with a pang of grief.
I won't ask her to play again. It's too hard on her to struggle, and too hard for me to watch.
DeeDee
My mom is a card sharp. She's one of those people who can count cards, know what you're likely to be collecting, knows fifteen different versions of rummy, and takes winning with all the serious intensity of champion chess players. She has quick hands and very dangerous fingernails. She plots the downfall of her opponents as craftily as a general planning to storm the beaches of a foreign country. She once read a book entitled Chess for Fun and Blood. My dad began to refuse to play chess with her.
Last night I invited her to play Phase Ten (for those of you who don't spend your evenings devising ways to beat the crap out of your kids, it's a rummy-like game). Each player completes simple hands: 2 sets of three, a set of 3 and a run of 4 etc. with a card in front of each listing what is needed for each phase. Mom couldn't do it.
Quite aside from the difficulty her arthritic hands had with holding her cards, she couldn't remember what phase she was on (okay, not unexpected). But more alarming was the fact that she couldn't grasp the difference between 'set' and 'run'. The card colors confused her. By the end of the game she was starting to need fewer prompts, but we were both to tired to try a second hand.
Less than two years ago she was still able to learn to play a new game. Now, she is losing her ability to play the old ones.
There is a memoir written by a local author called The House on Beartown Road. The author is simultaneously caring for her infant daughter and her declining father. It is a poignant tale observing both ends of life meeting and passing each other: Baby learning to talk, Dad forgetting how. Each noticeable loss comes with a pang of grief.
I won't ask her to play again. It's too hard on her to struggle, and too hard for me to watch.
DeeDee
Monday, May 20, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Third Year, Week Four - Finishing Stuff.....
My Hubby is a wonderful guy. He has tons of skills - he's a great Dad, a great Grampa, and a loving husband. He can fix almost anything, put together a functioning computer from a pile of junk, and cook an amazing dinner. He can do plumbing, drywall, electrical wiring and supervise a team of inexperienced teens while they put up a roof. He has Skills.
But everybody has an Achilles Heel. His? Finishing stuff. And I confess, I have the same fault.
This building has 18 rooms and four baths. We've been working on improvements for, oh, about 10 years give or take a couple. It goes in fits and starts, and definitely progresses better under the pressure of a deadline.
But of those 18 rooms, seven are 'done'. And by 'done' I mean painted, with clean floors, all outlets and switches covered and electrically up to code, closets sanded and painted. Most of them could still use professional floor refinishing. Of the four bathrooms, two are done. They have been remodeled, tiled, plumbed, wired, and they have toilet paper and towel racks installed.
As far as the other rooms go? To finish two of them I need to screw on switch plate and outlet covers. Four need the floors 'unpainted' and cleaned. One bath only needs a toilet paper holder and towel ring. The other hasn't even been started. Mom's kitchen needs a new floor (paint? linoleum?) and a hand crafted cupboard. Mine needs a stove hood/microwave and a sink light. Two rooms need plaster repair/finishing and paint. I need to finish painting the stairs on our side.
Most of this is ridiculously do-able.
In the two weeks before Mom moved in we pushed ourselves HARD and did SO much. But it cost us. We were exhausted, and general housework fell by the wayside. And since I've trained myself to actually notice the dust, I'm noticing the damned dust.
It's incredibly frustrating. I look around and see that things are so MUCH better, but I'm a bit tired of 'almost' done. And I've truly been too tired to do much about it this week.
A friend once told me that he never finishes projects either. He's a perfectionist, and if you finish, you have to accept the flaws. He called it ADD - Attention to Detail Disorder. I laughed, but it resonated with me.
I took a radical step this week. I advertised for someone to help me clean. I figure that if someone comes in on Saturday morning for four hours and we work together, we can kick this stuff. It will help keep me motivated and on track, and it might actually help with the things that fall into the 'my job' category. I positively stink at plaster, but I rock at painting and I'm certainly capable of hanging a towel rack! If the weight of cleaning all 18 rooms to transplant standards lifts a bit, I'll have more time to accomplish the 'honey-do' list.
So, what do you think? I want to be DONE by the end of summer with all the leftover detail crap. DONE, I tell you.
DeeDee
But everybody has an Achilles Heel. His? Finishing stuff. And I confess, I have the same fault.
This building has 18 rooms and four baths. We've been working on improvements for, oh, about 10 years give or take a couple. It goes in fits and starts, and definitely progresses better under the pressure of a deadline.
But of those 18 rooms, seven are 'done'. And by 'done' I mean painted, with clean floors, all outlets and switches covered and electrically up to code, closets sanded and painted. Most of them could still use professional floor refinishing. Of the four bathrooms, two are done. They have been remodeled, tiled, plumbed, wired, and they have toilet paper and towel racks installed.
As far as the other rooms go? To finish two of them I need to screw on switch plate and outlet covers. Four need the floors 'unpainted' and cleaned. One bath only needs a toilet paper holder and towel ring. The other hasn't even been started. Mom's kitchen needs a new floor (paint? linoleum?) and a hand crafted cupboard. Mine needs a stove hood/microwave and a sink light. Two rooms need plaster repair/finishing and paint. I need to finish painting the stairs on our side.
Most of this is ridiculously do-able.
In the two weeks before Mom moved in we pushed ourselves HARD and did SO much. But it cost us. We were exhausted, and general housework fell by the wayside. And since I've trained myself to actually notice the dust, I'm noticing the damned dust.
It's incredibly frustrating. I look around and see that things are so MUCH better, but I'm a bit tired of 'almost' done. And I've truly been too tired to do much about it this week.
A friend once told me that he never finishes projects either. He's a perfectionist, and if you finish, you have to accept the flaws. He called it ADD - Attention to Detail Disorder. I laughed, but it resonated with me.
I took a radical step this week. I advertised for someone to help me clean. I figure that if someone comes in on Saturday morning for four hours and we work together, we can kick this stuff. It will help keep me motivated and on track, and it might actually help with the things that fall into the 'my job' category. I positively stink at plaster, but I rock at painting and I'm certainly capable of hanging a towel rack! If the weight of cleaning all 18 rooms to transplant standards lifts a bit, I'll have more time to accomplish the 'honey-do' list.
So, what do you think? I want to be DONE by the end of summer with all the leftover detail crap. DONE, I tell you.
DeeDee
Monday, May 13, 2013
Growing Pains......
We are never too old to feel the sting of growing pains. In fact, adults feel them all the time. From the moment I first realized, at age 21, that I would never have an entire summer off for school break (or an Easter Break or a Christmas Break!) I've had many such 'growing pains' moments. We all see them - those moments when we are forcibly reminded that childhood is long over and we have become, irrevocably, grown-ups.
Each of us can easily make a list:
First grey hair.
Birth of first child.
Child going to kindergarten.
First major injury.
Difficulty getting up off the floor.
Child graduating high school/college.
Realizing that ladders are much higher than they used to be.
Caring for a chronically ill child.
Noticing that new lack of agility.
Moving an aging parent home with you.
Burying a parent.
These things can range from the sublime to the rediculous, but each one reminds us of our advancing committment to adulthood and aging.
Hubby and I both had one such moment at the Post Office on Saturday. We filled out our applications, submitted them, and drove home.
On the way home, Hubby said, "So, what did YOU put down under 'hair color'?
AHAHAHAHAHAHA! We both had to admit that we'd written "Grey." We kinda had to match the pictures, you know?
DeeDee
Each of us can easily make a list:
First grey hair.
Birth of first child.
Child going to kindergarten.
First major injury.
Difficulty getting up off the floor.
Child graduating high school/college.
Realizing that ladders are much higher than they used to be.
Caring for a chronically ill child.
Noticing that new lack of agility.
Moving an aging parent home with you.
Burying a parent.
These things can range from the sublime to the rediculous, but each one reminds us of our advancing committment to adulthood and aging.
Hubby and I both had one such moment at the Post Office on Saturday. We filled out our applications, submitted them, and drove home.
On the way home, Hubby said, "So, what did YOU put down under 'hair color'?
AHAHAHAHAHAHA! We both had to admit that we'd written "Grey." We kinda had to match the pictures, you know?
DeeDee
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Mother's Day Sandwich.......
Hubby works on Sundays, and Babygirl is not confident with the stove, so no breakfast in bed for me! I'm sure someone has done it in the past, probably more than once, but I clearly remember only one time: A plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon arranged to look like a big smiley face. And it was edible!
Mother's Day at our house is usually haunted by loss. Birthmothers, dead, living or status unknown hover around my children in my imagination at least. The girls rarely say anything, but I know that they contemplate what is versus what might have been at least sometimes.
And today I have been contemplating that, too. What is versus what might have been.
I might have opted not to have the one baby I had. I might have never opened my life and heart to any child. I might have, in the past two years, watched my youngest die. I might have, in the past two months, watched my mother die.
I cannot contemplate any of those 'might have beens' without weeping. Each and every child in my life has been an unspeakable blessing. My mother has been my support and help for my whole life. The thought of not having known, or having lost, ANY of them brings me to my knees in gratitude for all I have been given.
We who are in the Sandwich Generation, caring for both the generations before and after us, have many challenges. Making ends meet in terms of time and energy is not the least of these. But we who are in this situation also realize that we are intensely blessed. We have, in our day-to-day lives, the joys and benefits of both generations.
We are sandwiched between obligations, duties, stresses and strains. But more than this, we are sandwiched by love.
DeeDee
PS Check your car. If you have both a walker AND a carseat for a grandchild, you can add one more layer to your sandwich. The Club Sandwich Generation?
Mother's Day at our house is usually haunted by loss. Birthmothers, dead, living or status unknown hover around my children in my imagination at least. The girls rarely say anything, but I know that they contemplate what is versus what might have been at least sometimes.
And today I have been contemplating that, too. What is versus what might have been.
I might have opted not to have the one baby I had. I might have never opened my life and heart to any child. I might have, in the past two years, watched my youngest die. I might have, in the past two months, watched my mother die.
I cannot contemplate any of those 'might have beens' without weeping. Each and every child in my life has been an unspeakable blessing. My mother has been my support and help for my whole life. The thought of not having known, or having lost, ANY of them brings me to my knees in gratitude for all I have been given.
We who are in the Sandwich Generation, caring for both the generations before and after us, have many challenges. Making ends meet in terms of time and energy is not the least of these. But we who are in this situation also realize that we are intensely blessed. We have, in our day-to-day lives, the joys and benefits of both generations.
We are sandwiched between obligations, duties, stresses and strains. But more than this, we are sandwiched by love.
DeeDee
PS Check your car. If you have both a walker AND a carseat for a grandchild, you can add one more layer to your sandwich. The Club Sandwich Generation?
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Passports....
Babygirl, Hubby and I went to the post office today to submit our applications for passports! We were met there by our Make-A-Wish Wish Granters who came along to pay the bill. They were totally impressed by how "organized" we were. That's because, of course, they weren't here at home Thursday evening as Hubby and I ransacked the house to assemble the appropriate paperwork!
For Babygirl we needed her adoption decree, her new American birth certificate and the matching Social Security card.. We weren't sure so we also brought her citizenship notice, her Guatemalan passport (long since expired) and her Guatemalan birth certificate. They asked if she had any photo ID (not counting the absolutely adorable but hopelessly out-of-date passport picture). I know I'm not 30 anymore and I may be just a tad out of touch, but where the heck would a 13 year old get an official photo ID? We were offered the opportunity to purchase a passport card (oh, so THAT'S where a 13 year old gets an official ID!). I know about enhanced driver's licenses, but I had not heard of passport cards (you need the passport book for overseas travel).
For Hubby, we needed only his application and his expired passport, plus a peek at his driver's license.
For me? Well, I have no idea where my old passport is. It's clearly expired, and I know where I last saw it, but no idea where it went from there. So I got to start from scratch, with:
Application, application to replace lost/stolen passport (separate form with same info), birth certificate (I brought two, both certified, and thankfully one of them listed my parents' names, since that was required), proof of name changes (first marriage certificate, divorce decree, second marriage certificate), my social security card and my driver's license.
Men have it so much easier LOL.
A quick phone call to our oldest to get her address for an emergency contact, and we were done. The entire process took nearly an hour, much to the dismay of the kid waiting behind us LOL. We were grateful to Make-A-Wish for funding this - the total tab was well over $300.
But it's a big step - looking to fulfill Babygirl's Wish in August!
DeeDee
,
For Babygirl we needed her adoption decree, her new American birth certificate and the matching Social Security card.. We weren't sure so we also brought her citizenship notice, her Guatemalan passport (long since expired) and her Guatemalan birth certificate. They asked if she had any photo ID (not counting the absolutely adorable but hopelessly out-of-date passport picture). I know I'm not 30 anymore and I may be just a tad out of touch, but where the heck would a 13 year old get an official photo ID? We were offered the opportunity to purchase a passport card (oh, so THAT'S where a 13 year old gets an official ID!). I know about enhanced driver's licenses, but I had not heard of passport cards (you need the passport book for overseas travel).
For Hubby, we needed only his application and his expired passport, plus a peek at his driver's license.
For me? Well, I have no idea where my old passport is. It's clearly expired, and I know where I last saw it, but no idea where it went from there. So I got to start from scratch, with:
Application, application to replace lost/stolen passport (separate form with same info), birth certificate (I brought two, both certified, and thankfully one of them listed my parents' names, since that was required), proof of name changes (first marriage certificate, divorce decree, second marriage certificate), my social security card and my driver's license.
Men have it so much easier LOL.
A quick phone call to our oldest to get her address for an emergency contact, and we were done. The entire process took nearly an hour, much to the dismay of the kid waiting behind us LOL. We were grateful to Make-A-Wish for funding this - the total tab was well over $300.
But it's a big step - looking to fulfill Babygirl's Wish in August!
DeeDee
,
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