A Glass of Water

Just when I think the matriarch is completely blind, she comes down 2 flights of stairs, through a narrow hallway, and into the family room. She wants a glass of water. I look at her and wonder if she could see that well, why didn't she just go into the bathroom and get one herself?

The thing I don't understand or have a hard time understanding is the difference between what the matriarch needs and how she "uses" me to get what she wants. She only asks me for her bananas, a constant desire it seems, lately. But, she never asks my husband. There is a bit, okay a lot, of tension in the house because of the matriarch's constant requests to me and my husband's obliviousness to her desires. I don't want to say "demands" but really she is so very demanding--she is driving me crazy and my husband thinks it is just old age, seniors get like this. But, it is really hard when one is on call 24/7; I have sympathy for nurses in institutions because if whole crowds of old people get like this, it must make a difficult situation even worse.

But I wonder, of course, when the mentality arose to somehow justify this behaviour? I mean I wonder about retirement and the right to spend one's senior years doing nothing; it is as though the reward for doing all those years of work is to do nothing...I tend to think people who have spent their lives doing valuable work wouldn't suddenly like being put out to pasture. But I also understand the need to not to have to do so much. My husband completely disagrees with me and is desperate for his retirement; but, he is not desperate enough to retire and assume full responsibility for his mother.

The Old and the Young

Margaret Wente had an interesting article about women and their mothering instincts in this weekend's "Globe and Mail." She discussed the dichotomy between what women want as individuals and what they will do as mothers, or what they are expected to do. It was an interesting article inspired by a French writer (Badinter is the last name) who feels that current mothering trends are imprisoning women in the role of caretaker and that the idea of a parent sacrificing herself is somehow demeaning. My view is kids learn what they are taught; if a mother takes care of the children, they will take care of her in their old age. Maybe it is self-preservation that makes a good mother. I watch my husband, who never had a good relationship with the matriarch, still care for his mother and know, whatever she did wrong when he was growing up, she must have done something right. Or, maybe, my mother did. I watch my children with their grandmother and admire them; they just seem to accept this is the way she is and that's that. I wonder if they will be like that with me in the future?

What I don't understand, and this is me as an adult individual, is why people would bring children into the world if they don't want to take care of them. My children are not accessories to my life; they are my life. And, I say that proudly knowing some think I am deluded into accepting my imprisonment as a haven. I am not a housekeeper or a housewife; most of the women I know who work have much nicer, tidier homes than I have. But I love being with my children; I grant I do not have the same feeling about the matriarch's presence. But would I displace this woman who brought my husband into the world? Hardly. What I find hard to understand is why people like Madame Badinter, author of the French book, find it irrelevant to discuss parenting without the inclusion of the old. It is not as though our roles as parents somehow end and we are disconnected from the children we bring into the world. We are supposed to be there at their beginning and they are supposed to be there at our end. Am I being naive?

There is a seniors' home on the main road entering Barrie; it is a lovely place with gardens and benches and walkways throughout the front. My children were in a choir that once sang there. The seniors do not go out into the gardens. They do not wander the paths and look at the flowers and it is a very inviting place. When my children went to the home, I went, too, as a supervisor, and could not help but notice the loneliness of such a pleasant place. My thoughts tend to be that if a senior does not want to be institutionalized in their latter years, they should give second thoughts to institutionalizing their children in their early years. Of course, some parents find it unavoidable; but, then, they compensate for their absence. And, they do not do it with toys or Wii or vacations, but with their time. At the end of our lives, it is time that becomes most valuable. My thought is that if one has invested one's time in one's children, they will invest some of their time in our dotage. I am not sure of anything anymore.

As the matriarch ages, I realize I am living with one very selfish woman; it doesn't matter the time we share with her, there is always something better somewhere else. But I also know my husband remembers a time when she was not like this and I must cling to his memories. I must also show my children the importance of time and family so they will know its value in their future; if I don't show them, no one else will. Of course, that is the problem with viewing parenthood as a career choice or as an addendum to one's career: children are with you for life. They do not grow up and go away; or maybe, they do? But I imagine if there are no bonds developed between parents and children when the children are young, there should be no surprise they aren't there when parents are old.

Sugar, sugar and True Love

The matriarch is back to eating her sugar with everything, and bananas; she is eating bananas like they are going out of style. I am a little annoyed with her today. The matriarch wouldn't come to the children's gymnastics show because she had to have a shower; men always notice a lady freshened by a shower before she goes out. My thought response was "If you're not coming to the show, where are you expecting to go?"

The matriarch expects to meet a man. I suspected her hormones were hopping when my friend came over last week but I didn't think she would get so caught up in the daydream. My husband thinks it's funny. What are you going to do?

It's so easy for people to find it amusing; they aren't dealing with an 100 year old woman in the midst of an imaginary infatuation. It is dealing with a teenager with experience, lots and lots of experience. And, it happens to seniors, it happens to middle aged women and to older men and to teenagers in the throes of hormones: love, deep, passionate love.

Silence

A painting of Daphne Todd's Mother:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/jun/23/deathbed-portraits-daphne-tood-bp

99

Father's Day was also the matriarch's birthday; my husband had to work, one of the cars broke down and no one phoned. I felt so sorry for her.

We are taking the matriarch for dinner on Wednesday; her favourite restaurant is The Keg. My parents are coming but no other guests. I don't think she cares or, maybe, she does; but, here is a problem with old age and loneliness: when a senior, especially one with limited contact with the world, is given a vague invitation for dinner or lunch out, they tend to expect the invitee to follow through. And, they wait for them to do so.

I know people live busy lives and are forgetful but the matriarch sits in her room expecting to go for lunch or dinner with certain family members and she anticipates when the event will happen. It never does or the event is so rare the matriarch forgets that so and so at one time did come to visit. To be fair, the matriarch has never been one to visit other people, she has always expected them to come to her house and she has outlived more relatives and friends than can be listed, but it still feels sad. What makes it more sad, of course, is the matriarch's unwillingness to appreciate what is done for her. The children made strawberry shortcake, strawberry-rhubarb pie and butter tarts to celebrate a joint Father's Day-Birthday Afternoon Tea (an event shared with my Father) and I don't think she cared. Or, maybe, she did, but it didn't feel that way. I think she expected her nieces to phone, or her sister-in-law.

As she ages, the matriarch's hearing becomes more selective and her sight more focused; I can't say she is blind and deaf despite evidence to the opposite. Just when I think she can't see or hear, she goes and does something unexpected. But, the matriarch does often mention a visit to her sister-in-law's that is upcoming; I don't know when the invitation was extended, but the matriarch has her case ready for the moment the event happens. I know the sister-in-law has told the matriarch she asks too much of people when she visits, but I also know it possible for a visit to happen here. I can see the sister-in-law coming here to take the matriarch out for lunch. I doubt very much the matriarch will be going away for days again. But it is her enthusiastic anticipation for the possibility that makes me feel pity for her. I don't know if we ever admit to ourselves that we are old and that we are difficult and that some things just aren't going to happen.

Old Age Does Come Hungrily

The matriarch sat down to dinner this evening and began to eat. It was a sort of Shepherd's pie stew--the casserole a little bit soupy because I notice the food goes down easier for her when it is more liquid than solid. Also, I suspect she doesn't taste much; I am not sure. The matriarch is back to eating her strawberries with sugar; we have gone through almost a pound of sugar this past week. It is almost a sugar bowl a day. Anyhow, we were to have hamburgers for dinner. But the matriarch began to eat before all the children, and even my husband, were seated at the table. It was as though she was starving. I don't believe she was; she ate her lunch and has her chips and bananas in her room; but, to see her eat her supper this evening was to watch a woman trying assauge a momentous hunger. I thought we lost our appetites as we age. The matriarch clearly has not.

The Thing About Strawberries

The children and I picked about 30 litres of strawberries the other day, 7 big baskets. And, the matriarch gorged on them and made herself ill. Then, she got mad at me for letting her eat so much.

When do the old no longer become responsible for their actions? Do they ever?

I have a hard time reconciling the matriarch's right to do what she wants as an adult and what she needs to do to stay healthy. I have no idea how I could have stopped her from eating so many strawberries; it is so easy to say, "Tell her there are no more."

It doesn't work that way. I didn't keep offering her berries upon berries. The matriarch asked for a bowl of strawberries with toast for lunch. Then, she asked for some more after dinner. Then, she wanted to take some up to her room to eat during the night. Of course, I said to her, "Maybe you should have something else..." She didn't want anything else. But I couldn't figure out how to say "NO."

There was an article about elderly abuse on the radio, children taking advantage of their elderly parents financially and children scaring their parents into acceptable forms of behaviour. I don't have sympathy for abuse but I can completely understand frustration. There is a paradox of aging: one gives up or loses one's independence verses the role of the wise fool; the old are supposed to know better than the young and, yet, sometimes, they can act like two year olds. So, I have frozen the strawberries and the matriarch says she won't eat anymore till the winter.

Howl's Moving Castle verses Stone Angel

Today, the morning was spent doing soccer stuff in the rain; lunch at home, then, a late afternoon visit to see a friend. It was a busy day for me and the matriarch basically spent the whole day in her room. She wouldn't come down and listen to the children practice piano; she wouldn't sit in a rocking chair while they read; she did run back up to her room once the meals were finished. I do not always have to take her out. I do not always have to take her for lunch. My husband was at work and I should not feel guilty for having other responsibilities...and, yet, I do feel guilty.

In the book, "Howl's Moving Castle," which I am reading aloud to the children, a young girl, Sophie, is suddenly transformed into an old woman. Her body aches and she sees the world much more patiently then she did as a teen. Hagar in Laurence's "Stone Angel" is angry because she is old; she refuses to go patiently into the next world. Maybe she follows Dylan Thomas' "rage against the night" and will not succumb easily to death. It is all so easy to suggest Hagar is the more admirable--who wants to accept their own mortality? Their own age? But, to be honest, who wants to live with Hagar? She is an awful, old woman despite our sympathies and she is selfish and willful and a host of other qualities no one likes. I don't want to say the matriarch is like Hagar; but, she is certainly not like Sophie, somewhat pleasantly accepting her decrepitude; but, of course, Sophie is probably more fictional than Hagar. I guess we are all supposed to rage against the coming of the night...just sometimes I wish we could rage on our own and not against those who surround us.

My husband says to accept his mother as she is. He is always saying I am the one with the wrong view of her; at 99, she is not likely to change. I just think, sometimes, I can feel her inner conflict--should I be nice or do I want this or that thing more? The one thing I always felt Margaret Laurence conveyed extremely well about Hagar was that sympathy to somehow make things easier for her. Even as a reader, I wanted to lift the burden from Hagar, that burden of age. As I consider the matriarch, I feel powerless because she seems so intent on doing things her own way--isn't it a contradiction within my feelings to want to be there and yet, still, not want to be taken for granted? I know the matriarch is angry she is old; I cannot almost feel the anger emanating from her. Yet, I know, too, there is nothing I can do.

My husband has read this post; he thinks his mother is annoyed because I did not take her for lunch. She isn't as cerebral as I like to think she is. The matriarch is mad because I did not take her to the Swiss Chalet. And, that anger I feel is obvious: she is annoyed I had an afternoon out and she didn't.

Going for a Visit

The matriarch has gotten it into her head she is going to visit her sister-in-law on the 27th of June and they will go for fish and chips. The sister-in-law has not called, as far as I know no communication has occurred. This is all in the matriarch's head. I don't know what she gets thinking about; though, as I pointed out to my husband, these thoughts are indicative of her boredom. I think.

The matriarch's ninety-ninth birthday is in a week and a half; at her request, we are to have a dinner party for twelve at the Keg. The sister-in-law was not invited; although, my husband thought she should have been. It makes one wonder why the matriarch would be so set on a visit to her sister-in-law but equally set on excluding her from the dinner. Maybe the matriarch thinks the sister-in-law likes fish better than steak?

Battle of the Dueling Teacups

The matriarch looks around the table with her one good eye, sees everyone is eating and sits there. As children talk and husband passes the milk and tea is poured, she watches. She does not make a sound. I am still eating, half my dinner is yet upon my plate. She looks into my face and waits. Her plate is half empty; no matter how small the portion I give her, she only ever eats half; so I give her as much as we eat and she actually she seems to eat twice as much. I know she hates my cooking and at dinner time, she stares at me, without seeing, almost as though she wants me to know what she is thinking. It makes for a grueling experience. I do know what she wants. As the children are excused and depart for outside, piano, soccer, the matriarch waits and it becomes a game between my husband and me. I look at him. I am still eating. The matriarch asks if the children have left the table; there are moments when I wonder what is going on in her head. The children have left, always leave in a noisy excited rush. It is not like she missed it. I glare at my husband and he looks me and smiles. I say to the matriarch, looking at him, "Your son will bring up your tea."

I smile back.

The matriarch likes someone to bring her tea to her room at dinner time. She carries the china mug herself at breakfast and lunch, but she prefers someone else do it a dinner time. It wouldn't be a big deal except, and I have no idea how we got into the routine, she seems to expect us to understand her want without her having to say anything. The first few times she sat there staring at me (I don't know why it is always me), neither my husband or I had a clue what she wanted. Then my husband offered to bring her tea up and turn her television on to the station she wanted. (Another thing for which to be curious: the matriarch can turn the t.v. off, but she will not turn it on--one of us does that.) And, now it is a race between my husband and myself to see which of us has to bring the tea up to her room. The odd time, one of the children will do it but it is not their responsibility and I do not want the matriarch to become as dependent on them as she is on me. What I don't understand is why the matriarch will carry her own tea up to her room at other times of the day, but not at dinner. Actually, I should correct that: she wants to carry her mug up at other times, but expects me or my husband to do it at dinner. I offer to do nothing for the matriarch without her request; I am not being cruel but if the matriarch gives up doing things of her own volition (that is to say, she chooses not to do things not that she has become incapable), she will lose the ability to do what she wants. I have no problem helping her; but she must continue to do what she needs to do otherwise she will no longer have her independence. I have told her this. In my mind, I think independence, and all the baggage of opinion that goes with it, is what keeps the matriarch human. Otherwise, I suspect, much of the matriarch's character would dissolve into self-pity. Of course, I could be wrong; doing everything for her without the particular request, because I do know most of the time what she wants, would keep her happy and quiet and conveniently leave me in control of her every movement. I don't think that's a life. I don't want that responsibility.

Of course, I hate bringing the tea mug up to her room.

Loneliness

The matriarch stays up in her room until mealtime then joins us. She doesn't say much and eats even less but I don't think she is depressed, I do think she is lonely. Sometimes when the children argue across the table and my husband says to quiet down, she shakes her head and smiles. It makes me happy to see her think beyond herself...or she could be thinking of herself years ago. My husband is an only child so I know his house was much quieter than our's is now. I don't surmise the matriarch is thinking of then. Sometimes, I think our house is constant chaos; but, I like it and the children seem to as well. Even the matriarch is used to the constant noise.

I am not supposed to worry about the matriarch. As much as she is old and fragile, she is quite capable of making her own decisions and I cannot resent her wanting to be in her room. Yet, she always wants to go out with me. Over the past few days, a number of visitors have popped by and the matriarch loves being introduced to strangers. At least, she seems to like it; a friend popped by with some leftover foodstuffs from a soccer tournament and the matriarch came down to meet him--in her robe, no less. Go figure. Can a man always be wanted even when the lady in question is in her nineties? Is that vanity or loneliness?

Anniversary Dinners and Dress Up

For some reason, today, my mother-in-law thought she was going out for dinner with my parents for their anniversary. It is their anniversary and they are out for the evening, but they are on their own. My husband told my mother-in-law three times we were not accompanying them on their night on the town; the children had soccer so it wasn't an option. He told her and she still changed into a lovely outfit and wanted to know if they were off to the Keg. I don't know if it was sheer stubbornness or a moment of confusion but she was bound and determined to eat out.

We brought a cake to my parents' house and had tea with them in the afternoon; my mother-in-law seemed surprised that that was all that was happening. My husband told her in the car on the way home that he had told her she wasn't going out for dinner. The children had soccer. She replied she hadn't expected us to join them. My husband paused and asked her why she thought she would be joining my parents on their anniversary? She stayed in silence the rest of the way home. I think it was a moment of confusion, perhaps an indicator the dementia medication has to be increased? Perhaps my mother-in-law really just wanted to go out for dinner. My husband has told me he is going for lunch with her tomorrow; the routine seems so important. They didn't do lunch at the fish and chip place this week; we ate out at Montana's on Sunday. He was hoping to skip it. You wouldn't think eating out would become such a burden but it has....