mothers day

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All the Days I Hate

In chronological order:

St. Patrick’s Day–I watched my father die that day.

Mother’s Day

May 23–Dad’s birthday

Father’s Day

June 20–My brother’s birthday

July 23–I said goodbye to my brother that day.

September 20–Mom’s birthday

October 4–I held my mother’s hand for the last time.

Someday, I hope I won’t dread some of these days. I hope that I won’t feel sick the entire week before or have the powerful urge to somehow escape my surroundings and my feelings and my brain on the day of. With Mother’s Day here, I am horribly conflicted. I have felt all those things this entire week and I had planned to do exactly what I did today–visit my mother’s grave so “we” could talk and eat and drink coffee. Just like we did every Saturday for the last two years of her life. And this morning after a meeting for work, I found myself antsy. I vacuumed and made blueberry muffins to take to Mom and just…puttered around the house, like Mom would say. I felt the overwhelming need to leave and go to her, but I kept pushing it off because it wouldn’t be the visit I wanted.

I finally did go. I packed up a bag with goodies and a blanket to sit on and I drove the back way to the cemetery in the town I grew up in. I passed houses that friends used to live in, including my own childhood home that is now abandoned. I saw new houses and roads that never existed before and wondered what my parents would have to say about them. Just like anytime I drive through my hometown, the memories came back–many good, many awful–and I grew angry at myself for driving this route. But once I got to the cemetery, my tension started to ease. I poured Mom a cup of coffee, gave her a muffin, and settled myself on a blanket in front of her. I talked about the pandemic, masks, our family, my friends. I asked her if she’s with Phil or my stepfather or my dad or Grammy. I prefaced that question with “So…if there IS an afterlife…” (What can I tell ya? I’m an agnostic which means I have no idea what the heck anything is or will be.) As I asked about our family, I started to cry and told her I missed her. Then I couldn’t stop crying. I rocked myself and said, “See Mom? THIS is why I try not to cry!” And as I’m writing this, I can hear Mom say, “Oh, I know, I know!” and almost feel her hug and hear her sniffle and wipe her nose.

But because it IS Mother’s Day, I want to celebrate my own motherhood. Sort of. I honestly just want to hide in a room for a day and drink cocktails and watch sad movies. But my son told me just this morning that he wants to make me dinner. My 14-year-old gentle giant of a boy, whom my mother adored more than any other person on the planet, has decided that he does indeed want to do something kind for his mother on Mother’s Day. (Last month he told me just to buy what I wanted for a gift and he’d pay for it—which is really me paying for it since he gets an allowance from me.)

A friend told me yesterday to try and do something for myself this weekend, like go for a run or have a drink or just do something to make me feel good. And I will. I hope to run on Sunday morning, eat brunch with my family, have a drink with a friend via Zoom, and eat dinner made by my child. All the while I will be thinking of Mom and her laugh and her raisin-filled cookies and her eerily strong grip. Seriously. This woman could break your bones with her hands if she wanted to.

Mom and I on my wedding day, 1997.

I miss you, Mom. Every day.

Love you forever, love you for always.

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Love You Forever

Do you ever wake up with a bellyache because you’re nervous or anxious about something? Maybe it’s about a speech you need to give or you’re starting a new job or you need to go to a funeral. That last one might seem odd, but I’ve experienced so many types of funerals, burials or celebrations of life in the past 3 years that I now know I will wake up with a bellyache before every one.

But I also hurt before any of the firsts. The first holiday season without my brother, the first Fathers’ Day without my dad, and now tomorrow will be the first Mothers’ Day without my mom. I didn’t feel great yesterday but I didn’t know why. I actually forgot about Mothers’ Day for a bit. But then I was reminded–by the news, by library programs, by the world. And today I feel awful–and it’s not just the fact that it’s May 9th and snowing. (WTF?!?) Or that I had to take a few kitties to the vet to get their shots. Or that I had a crappy run on the treadmill.

It’s because I miss my mom.

Me and my mom when I was little.

I know there are others of you out there who are missing your mom today, too. It might be because you live far away from her and it’s impossible to see her right now. I get that, but call her. If you can, drive to her house and talk to her outside. Or if she’s in a home, talk to her through a window. Go do that, ok?

And if you’re a member of the “My Mom is Gone” Club, then do what you can to honor your mom this weekend. Even if that just means to sit down for a few minutes and think about the good she did for you and the joy you brought to her. (And if your mom was downright awful to you, do what you can to just be you.)

After my crappy run, I got into my pajamas, wrapped myself in one of my mom’s sweaters and have been binging “The Handmaid’s Tale”. I folded clothes for a bit and sobbed. I stared at a few photos of Mom and sobbed some more. But now, to honor my mom, I will get off my butt…and bake a cake. Because that’s something she would have done, too.

Tomorrow, on Mothers’ Day, I will think of my kick-ass mom when I go for a run, then again as I’m eating some of that cake. And I will keep thinking of her as I make my child be my slave on this Mothers’ Day of 2020.

I think of you every day, Mom. I miss your smile, your laugh. I really miss seeing you light up when my son walks into the room. I love you and miss you so, so much.

“As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.”

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Mom’s Day

Yesterday, I visited Mom with my son in tow. We brought bird food for her feeders, a new phone since we thought something was wrong with her other one, and lunch. I begrudgingly visited with “Jack” as well because what else can I do? I’m pretty sure he was high and I tried not to make too much eye contact. My son chatted with him for a  few minutes (my boy doesn’t know everything that has happened but *does* know the basics) then I gave the boy a plate of food and sent him into the living room with my mom.  We all ate, chatted and discussed Mom’s cat. She doesn’t talk about much else, so trying to have a conversation about other things can be difficult. But the visit was fine. Nothing like visits used to be, but life is different now. Before Alzheimer’s, I would visit Mom for several hours and not even realize it. Now I check the clock and stretch out the time to at least an hour, although I am often ready to leave after 10 minutes.

Today, since Mom’s phone line is acting up, I couldn’t call her. I decided that it was really ok.  I visited yesterday. I did my daughterly duty.

That sounds shitty, doesn’t it? Yeah, it does, but I think I’m ok with it. I have to be. I still love my mom, but the mother I knew hasn’t been there for several years. I miss her.

I’ve realized in the past few months that I’m not very good at separating the disease from the person. Sometimes I get so mad at what Mom does or says, but that isn’t Mom. My sister has been good about distinguishing between the two and trying to help me see the difference. Maybe I’ll get there someday, but for now, I think I have to distance myself from the entire situation.  I did send in the guardianship papers, which will change our relationship on paper, but it won’t change much in reality. I’ve already been her parent for a few years and now, if it goes through, I’ll be her parent on paper, too.

So, today, instead of worrying about Mom, I celebrated my own motherhood. My husband made me these fantastic gluten-free blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and fresh strawberries on the side. I took a 2-mile walk/jog with my son, I watched the movie “The Shape of Water”, then I went for two more walks interspersed throughout the day. (The boy was supposed to go on another 2-mile walk with me as the rest of my Mother’s Day gift, but in exchange for getting out of that, he has to do an extra walk with me next weekend AND he gave up his allowance this week.)  This might have been the best Mother’s Day I’ve ever had. I felt like I was on vacation. I ate what I wanted, felt very relaxed, and just tried to enjoy myself. Something I really haven’t done in a long, long time.

If you’re reading this and are a mom, I hope your day was a good one, too. If you’re reading this and you still have your mom, I hope you were able to celebrate her somehow. And if you’re reading this and you miss your mom,  I hope you thought good thoughts about her today. Try to remember the love. ❤

alzlove

 

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Control

“So….why are you mopping all the floors on Mothers’ Day?” my husband asked.

Some of you might not know this about me, but….I’m a bit of a control freak. Shocking, I know! 😉   Before my son was born, I had a cleaning calendar posted on my kitchen wall. I followed it religiously. Dust on Thursday? Done.  Mop the kitchen floor on Saturday? Absolutely. I wanted my new house to look and smell as new and clean as possible.

Three years later, I gave birth to my beautiful boy.

And my house has never been clean again.

Ok. That’s a slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean.   Control over my domain was gone. I had new responsibilities and a sparkling kitchen was no  longer a priority.  And seven years later, with the messes increasing exponentially due to my kiddo, cleaning is still not a priority.  Weekends are about doing things together, going to sports practice, spending time with other family and running.  I’m more than ok with the changes in my life that my boy has created.  I still want a clean and tidy house, so I clean when I can, and rope my husband into helping me occasionally and now my son can at least vacuum.

But sometimes, like today, just those few minutes of sweeping and mopping and smelling that wonderful scent of Pine Sol, makes me feel in control for just a little while. It calms me, brings me a little peace.

I’ve had a lovely Mothers’ Day. My husband made me these amazing gluten-free pancakes with loads of butter and syrup, and I ate them with abandon and absolutely no guilt.  My son read me a story he wrote just for me about making special robots that would clean my house (this kid gets me).  Then we went shopping for running shoes, picked up a few items from the grocery store, then off to visit my mom.

If you’ve ever met my mom, you know that not only do we look alike but act alike. We’re both pretty anal retentive about how we want our house to be–I learned from the best. 😉  But my poor momma has had many illnesses and physical  problems in the last few years. The latest being a dislocated ankle and bone chips in her leg, which led to a surgery.  Everything went well, but now she has a cast on her skinny little leg, all the way up to her thigh.  She can’t put any weight on it and has to use crutches.  She’s basically homebound until the end of the month when they’ll put a walking cast on her leg.   In a word?  She’s miserable.  But her spirits have been higher with this incident than others in the past and she’s trying not to get discouraged. (In the past 4 years, she’s broken both of her hips, too.)  She likes to say that when she’s feeling down, she thinks of her kids and her grandchildren and it picks her right up.  She’s lovely, isn’t she?

cast

So today, when Briar and I went to visit my mom, we brought markers and stickers to decorate her cast.  She was ecstatic to see us.  Lunch was in the fridge, so I got things ready while Mom & Briar chatted.  I looked around at her home, and I knew things were not quite how she wanted them.  So after we ate, I swept the kitchen floor, did the dishes and offered to vacuum the rugs.  She refused my offer, but we chatted about how we like things a certain way.  Her boyfriend has helped her a great deal, but it’s the little things that can drive you nuts.  Or at least drive *us* nuts.  Like leaving the laundry basket in the living room instead of putting it back.  So I moved the basket back where it should be.

I tried to make things just a little bit better for her so she feels like she has at least a smidge of control over her life.

When I got back to my house,  I looked at my kitchen and bathroom floors.  I had been thinking about going for a short run, but instead I swept and mopped the floors.

I needed to feel like everything was right with the world, if only for a day….or at least an hour. 🙂