Mom & Me Two Archive

...wherein, if I were in the normal world of employment I would face my employer, declare that, after unsuccessful negotiations and finally outright protests, I was being abused, the impossible was being expected of me without the help I need to bring both circumstances and goals into the realm of the reasonable and possible (for me, which means that I've agreed to accomplish the super-reasonable and im-possible and am almost there, just a little help from the finish line), I'd cast my karma to the winds and walk out.
    Yesterday afternoon and evening, during a day in which it was obvious that my time would be best spent devoting the day to my mother and ignoring my project, she once again indulged in her "remind me why I ever thought it was a good idea to buy this house" tirade and could not be soothed. After several hours in which I tried to soften her discomfort with a hearty bean and HoneyBaked Ham® bone soup, fresh from the oven blueberry muffins, yet another viewing of one of her favorite movies, Cheaper by the Dozen (the new version), during which I joined her in the audience (so to speak) and in celebrating her dream of a huge family, made every possible effort and then some to assure her of the blessed attributes of this house and our life together, she retired grumbling and inappreciative. Although the subject of my insistence on selling the mobile home in Mesa never came up I'm sure this was also in the back of her mind and contributed to her ornery attitude.
    Despite knowing that today will be a new day for her and she will probably remember nothing of yesterday's discomfort, despite knowing that she, too, is allowed days of multi-layered discomfort and grousing, despite everything, if I was doing this in the world of normal employment I'd be outta here and on my way to redesigning my life.
    Instead, since today's weather dictates another day of savory aromas and insulated comfort, I'll be serving her ham for breakfast, baking pumpkin cranberry muffins and individual beef pot pies, trying to coax her into actually making some of the cards she's been planning for the past few days, maybe playing some games with her, probably watching The Ten Commandments yet again (although, actually, I never mind this movie, I seem to always discover some new ultra-dramatic bit of dialogue or acting that renders the experience delightful) and hoping that, through me, she appreciates the wild, wet weather we're having.
    I've refused to mention Thanksgiving and she seems to have forgotten that it is less than a week away. My intention is not to make a big deal of it. I haven't decided whether I'll cook a special meal...I'm leaning toward not doing this. I'm also leaning toward a very modest, stay-at-home Christmas, as, the closer it gets the less I want to shuffle through making Christmas into a big production. I'm still not interested in honoring the inevitable "do it for Mom" dictate this year. Lately, not a day goes by but what I consider that, for all the advantages of having The Single One taking care of my mother, she probably would have been better off in a family setting despite what the medical profession might have done to her under the auspices of someone who wouldn't have been available to negotiate and refuse diagnoses and treatments.
    I'm not a good nurturer when I have to do it full time without any let-up and with very little time and absolutely no help to nurture myself. "You just do it," I recall my mother and my sisters saying many times with sometimes stubborn, sometimes humble overtones when describing their own super-human nurturing accomplishments. I'm getting to the place where I can't just do it anymore. I'm beginning to feel like consequences be damned. I'm experiencing this incredible thirst that threatens to kill me if I ignore it.
    I think about the possibility that after my mother dies I will feel great pride in a job well done, renewed by my accomplishments; then reality trashes the scenario. Immediately after my mother's death my entire life will be split into fourths, a quarter for me. I will be exhausted, without a home, without income, without a viable employment history for the previous 10+ years (assuming that my mother lives for a few to several more years). I will no doubt have to move and will not have the means to do so. I will probably lose my beloved cat. I will certainly lose most of my possessions, as well as my mother's which, realistically, have become mine, since they form the material spine of our home and our life. One of my sisters has offered to take me in until I "get on my feet" but this doesn't seem like a viable option for me, as it will involve not only my own internal up and at'em drive, but someone else's as well, and, frankly, I expect I won't feel like getting up and at'em at someone else's behest for awhile. I suspect, rather than feeling excitement that the possibilities are suddenly endless for me, I will feel inconsolably bereft and defeated. To hell with the idea that one makes one's own reality, to hell with lemonade. I'm beginning to understand not only the cooperative but the uncooperative effort that life is among humans. My transmission is being drained by the circumstances of intense caregiving. I think, when this is over, I'll be immovably low on fluid and my life will be too wrecked and expensive to fix.
    On days such as today, when the weather tosses everything about, my soul is normally revived. Today I note my difficulty in reveling in my usual way in wild weather and wonder if I've lost, to my mother's needs, my ability to storm my way out of any fortress.
    My mother is stirring. Time to continue...
    Later.