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.