I'm tired of cooking/preparing 3 meals a day. It's just the two of us but boy oh boy can that woman eat!! She stays slimish, I get fattish. It's bad enough I do everything here much less start making her one thing and me the other. At times I feel guilty when I buy her fast food cuz of the nutritional value....not to mention I eat it too.
I order groceries from an on-line grocery service which I think is great, never had any problems with the items.... but for some strange reason my Mom has numerous complaints about the items.... anyway, she didn't want bananas from the service, she wanted me to go inside the grocery store.... told her I was too busy. If I start going back inside the store for bananas, then the inside list will start growing and growing.
I wanted so much to say, "if you had moved to Ashby Ponds [retirement community] you could get bananas every day from the grocery store". My parents are still mobile, and the community has FREE transportation to the grocery stores.
Mom hasn't worked outside the house since 1946, she doesn't remember how busy she was when she was married, working full time, and running her own household.
My mother is not particularly religious, but she is self righteous. She is NPD, and her dealings with her synagogue are like this: she tried to get into the rabbi's 'inner circle', but was unsuccessful. They didn't seem to ostracize her at all, in fact, they seemed quite welcoming. But my mother didn't appreciate not being included at their table at functions. She reported to me that "they relegated" her to one of the other tables (with other recent widows, and people her age--the NERVE!! Lol). And so, she stopped participating, and I noticed her annual donation was a bit smaller than last year's.
W/my mother, there's always a "push/pull" sensation. She wants something elusive from people, and she has such contempt for those who might actually provide it. The one neighbor who looks out for her is a devout Christian, and my mother will "allow" her to help, but will say to me (in a very condescending, contemptuous tone) "she's SUCH a Good Christian Lady." I'll think, "YES, she IS! And you're DAMN lucky to have her!"
I wake habitually at 5 or 5:30 a.m. This is/are my hours that are totally to myself (or supposed to be). Usually--now usually---she (my mother) wakes anywhere from 7:30 to 9am.
But here I am enjoying my coffee in my sanctuary (my room). The house is semi-dark and quiet. But, guess what? She decides to wake at 6:22 a.m.! So I'm still quiet thinking maybe she's disoriented and will go back to bed. I hear her rifling in the drawers in the kitchen. "Oh shit", I'm thinking, "what is she looking for now"? Then I hear her come to my bedroom door and in a loud not-very-morning-like voice she calls out in this long, drawn out, "Hello"?
Now, this is where my bone of contention comes in. First of all, she respects nothing about boundaries or privacy for other people. (Incidentally, over the years I have been in counseling about her lack of respect that she's shown). It's all about what she needs at the moment. I'm thinking, "what if I was sleeping or reading or even had 'male company' (not that something like that would happen, but...). But the fact is that nothing that I may be doing is of concern to her.
So I answer (with frustration in my voice), "What Ma, it's 6:30 in the morning"? So I learn that she's looking for her damned diabetic testing strips. Really, I think, now? So I am annoyed and say to her that she could probably wait for at least an
hour and test before breakfast LIKE SHE USUALLY DOES! Then I will get up and find them for her. My quiet morning is now disrupted.
When I was a teenager or pre-teenager, she used to get up before us and make the loudest noise in the kitchen, banging pots and pans and just be loud in absolutely everything she did--even walking. Her feet would pound on the floor like she was angry. It didn't matter if everyone was trying to sleep in the house, she was loud and disrespectful.
I'm tired of excusing her behavior, saying that it's because she's ill and doesn't know what she's doing. Should I just ignore her disrespect? Apparently she has carte blanche when it comes to what she does.
Scale back the red carpet treatment, and see if you feel better. You matter too, you know!!
I've always said, if it was up to men giving birth [not all], we would have zero population increase ;)
I AM SO FED UP. All I can think of is how fed up I am. I am sick of - not my mother, it's not her fault - I'm sick of the job. That bloody commode every morning. The snail's pace trip from bedroom to bathroom once she's out of bed. Having to operate her incredibly simple riser recliner chair for her because she's not capable of remembering which, of two buttons mind you!, to press, and tries to sit down without positioning herself safely first. All these tiny things which you happily do for an infant - but these are not infants, they're grown adults, and therefore a lot less attractive and appealing, and not improving - you're going backwards every day.
And now on top of that ex-SO is coming home to roost. He had his prostatectomy on Friday. The surgery went well, I'm happy to have learned. The problem is his understanding of what to expect in recovery, coupled with our complicated relationship networks, coupled with his lack of insight into his own emotional needs. Before: he definitely, absolutely, adamantly wouldn't want any visitors. After: could I take his phone charger in please?
Of course. Happy to.
Endless texts about his blood pressure (they're having a bit of trouble getting him stable, but they're on to it - there isn't going to be a problem). Eventually I lose patience and text him back "G, stop looking at your blood pressure monitor and go to sleep." Then feel that was a bit harsh, so ring the ward to check he's ok. Ward Sister says he's fine. Sitting up and taking notice.
On we go to the evening (I may at certain points have 'forgotten' to have my cell phone on me). The poor lamb is suffering terribly, swollen abdomen, chest and abdominal x-rays, waiting for blood test results. I remark to daughter that for someone at death's door he's certainly texting enthusiastically.
Look, I do care. Honestly I do. It's that I don't believe there's any cause for concern, not that I wouldn't be bothered if there were.
What he's failed to take into account is that he had a spinal anaesthetic on Friday which would have kept him gloriously pain free post-op - until it wore off. And that opiates shut down the gut most effectively. He's been a stranger to constipation before now. Bit of a shock in store...
Text at ten pm. His ex-wife and oldest son are going to visit him this morning. Translation: don't be here when they are. So I text back fine, let me know when to bring the charger. Text back: leave it, he's borrowed one.
At which point I'm afraid I get a bit of a red mist. Now, why am I feeling angry? I'm trying to make sense of that feeling. What's to feel angry about? The chopping and changing? The poor man's post-op, I should cut him some slack. The unresolved ex-wife issues? He left her 17 years ago and no it was not my idea. Water under the bridge, surely? The poor communication? See post-op.
I don't understand why I feel angry, but I do.
Then - excuse my language but - f*ck me, four o'clock in the bloody morning I get a text. He's passing wind and feels much better. Well thank God because I'd been lying awake worrying about that. I'm so pleased to hear he's had a good fart.
I need to get my balance, here. This man will be home in two or three days, maybe even tomorrow night. Do I offer to collect him or do I say 'get a cab' - the hospital is 30 miles away. Do I wait on him or do I fold my arms. I'm changing his bed linen and giving his bathroom a good going over today, but do I put grapes and flowers on the bedside table or do I go for the no frills service?
I don't know where I am. And I don't understand why I'm feeling sore.
Don't let him 'rain' on your parade.
One trick I found to remind my parents that I am no longer a spring chicken [I'm pushing 70] is once in awhile I will show up for a shopping trip with them using a cane. I tell them I hurt my back. Most of the time this magic cane does work :)
Anyhow My sis and I picked up Dad and took him to the doctor for his POA activation. Confused most of the way in the car. Thought he was going back home repeated this a lot. My sis told him he was having a vacation at a resort. We went past the road to my house he sort of recognized that but not once did he ask why he wasn't living with me nor did he seem to remember he had been living with me the past 4 months since mom died. That really surprised me. We did get him calmed down and explained why he cannot live where he used to and that he does live closer to me so I can see him more often.
My sis left to drive back home today but stopped in to see him before she left but do not know how that went yet. I will stop in and see him on Sunday perhaps bring one of the cats.
But as usual my sister gave me some "suggestions" that of course I will disregard.
My hubby is golfing tonight so it's just me and the cats it feels odd to he the only one in the house. Had a couple nights with better sleep and now I can sleep in guest bedroom again if hubby's snoring bothers me.