Mom & Me Two Archive

    Not really. But, the same thing happened this morning as did yesterday morning, with a twist. I awoke my mother initially at 1000. I reminded her that today was Costco day and her first outing in almost a month. She groaned. I couldn't even coax her to put her hand out over the edge of the bed for me to test her blood sugar. So, I told her I'd give her a few minutes to "gather herself together". To my surprise, when I'd finished putting the final touches on the bathroom she was sitting on the edge of her bed; still, though, huddled in her blankets, which she's never done since I've lived with her.
    "Give me a hand, any hand." This is, typically, the second thing I say to her every morning, soon after I say, "Good morning, Mary Sunshine."
    "It's snowing." My mother likes the looks of snow up here but doesn't like the fact of snow anywhere.
    "Well, no, it's not. It's a little cloudy right now, but the weather report says that it's supposed to get up to 51° today, partly cloudy, a little windy, but we'll dress you warm. You've got winter underwear, we'll layer you..."
    "Are you sure it's not snowing?"
    I looked out her window. "Nope. It's not supposed to snow until tomorrow afternoon. Come over here and take a look."
    "I'll take your word for it but my bones are telling me it's going to snow. I'm going back to bed."
    She was determined. Snugged back down in bed. I let her.
    So, today got started late, I let her talk both of us into me going to Costco alone but made her promise to stay up while I was gone and set her in front of Victor/Victoria, which she loves. I left about a quarter of two. By the time I got to Costco snow had begun falling between Prescott and Prescott Valley. It was swirling when I returned to the car with my purchases and it followed me home. I walked in the house singing, "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening...".
    "It's snowing, isn't it." This wasn't a question, it was an I-told-you-so statement.
    "Yeah, I brought it home with me from Costco. I'm sorry, Mom, but you know how I love snow."
    "My bones are never wrong."
    I kissed her. "Thank you," I half-joked. "Now I get two days of snow!"
    "You and your dad."
    It's true. My dad loved storms, snow, rain, typhoons, etc. So, though, did Mom's grandfather. He, like my dad, would stand outside in the middle of a storm and absorb the wild weather. My dad also liked beans with a storm. "So," I said, "I'm planning on making bean soup tonight...are you telling me you'd rather I make something else?"
    Her face lit.
    "Maybe some garlic cheese bread, too?"
    "Bring on the snow," she said.
    "You and your husband," I kidded.
    On a hunch, along with the snow, I brought home the second season of Northern Exposure from Costco today. I introduced her to the series when I returned from Seattle in 1994. I think by that time it was in no longer being made and was in syndication (although I'm not sure). I'm always looking for stuff to vary her screen viewing experience since she spends a lot of time in front of the set. I scored a hit with Northern Exposure. Although she didn't remember it by name from having watched it in syndication on television, as soon as the theme began and the moose came into view she was so excited she practically clapped. We spent the evening watching three of the four episodes on the first disc. It's one of the few programs wherein she remains enrapt throughout the episodes and likes to discuss what's going on and what's being said, much like with Sex and the City and Cosmos, and, come to think of it, I, Claudius, too. I'm always game for audience participation with her and DVDs make it easy to stop or pause something with clear delivery through the pause. I noticed they also have a couple of seasons of Pee Wee's Playhouse, a particular favorite of mine to which I briefly introduced her when I arrived from Seattle. She was surprised by the show and enthusiastic about it but it was too hard to catch on TV, being a children's program, and she didn't see very many episodes. I haven't decided whether to get that. I may wait to see if it shows up in a video rental store, check out a season or two and see if she still likes it. Although I also purchase DVDs of movies and programs that appeal only to me I tend to keep them to a minimum simply because, with everything going on, I rarely get a chance to watch one of "my" favorites alone. Believe me, the one thing you never want to do with my mother is watch something you like but she doesn't. She has a peculiarly polite was of being impolite during the viewing of something that bores her or annoys her. I've written about this before so I won't repeat myself, but my mother can ruin the experience of watching a personal favorite with one well-placed, innocuous phrase, like, "Do you suppose they [refering to those responsible for producing a film or program] thought that was funny [or "important", or "worth the time it took to make it", or "worth the time it takes to watch it"]?!? It's a very unnerving experience and one you don't want to repeat too often.
    All in all, we had a thumbs up day. She didn't nap, which surprised me. Once enough snow had fallen to enhance the view out our living room windows she relaxed and enjoyed it. She even mentioned (once again, although I'm sure I haven't heard the last of her opposite opinion) that she was glad we own this house, it's her favorite. Her knee bothered her today for the first time in a few weeks but I'm sure that's because of the low atmospheric pressure. I couldn't get her interested in games or exercises but I didn't stress about this. We relaxed and enjoyed each other's company.
    I was thinking this evening, while we were mulling over the third Northern Exposure episode, that I am very lucky to be able to spend so many years in the kind of environment an Ancient One automatically creates around her just by dint of her age. I'm especially lucky that my Ancient One has aged like fine cheese or wine, some of the flavors of which are:

• Clock time is a convenience, not a dictator, and is often dispensed with.
• I'm able to rely on her knowledge, gained from having lived so many years, that it's a blessing that everything changes: No bad situation is permanent and no good situation is lullingly static, which takes the manic edge off celebration and the depressive edge off disaster.
• Every moment is a brand new moment even if it contains the same elements as a previous moment. This, in particular, is one of the benefits of living with someone with severe short term memory loss.
• Achievement of all types is delightful and involving, to be sure, but nonetheless an illusion and is best pursued with a light heart and remembered as an experience, not as a score.
• Finally, there isn't any experience that doesn't, in it's aftermath, offer up some type of treasure.

    As well, I realized tonight that for personal reasons I am uniquely suited to what I'm doing with my mother. Since I was, oh, I don't know, an older preteen, I've thought I'd love to be one of those perennial, ivory towered scholars. Over the last year or so I've been thinking that maybe when my mother dies I'd see if this wouldn't be a possibility. Tonight I realized that as I pursue what I'm doing with her I'm already in that scholarly ivory tower. I study her, research her, ponder her, theorize about her, allow myself the luxury of being amazed at the far reaching correspondences between the object of my study and the rest of the world and, when the bookishness of my attention begins to overwhelm me, I have the privilege of being able to sit back and enjoy her.
    Funny how our desires become woven into our lives in the most unexpected patterns.
    Later.