My husband has been on holidays this past week and we seem to be renegotiating how things are dealt with in respect to his mother. As old as a parent gets, I guess, they are still a parent and one is still a child--despite the actual ages involved. This brings us, of course, to the topic of sugar.
It's so funny, one thinks, to read me constantly complain about how my mother-in-law is eating me out of house and home; for heaven's sake, she is almost 100, how much can she really eat? When it comes to normal, everyday sorts of things like bread and butter, the matriarch is probably healthier than the average 99 year old floating around; when it comes to sugar, the woman is incredible. She eats sugar on all fruit, desserts, puddings--you name it. This house goes through a lot of sugar. My husband tends to link the children's baking with this vast consumption. I know that is not so but I say nothing. I mean I am really silent on the issue. He thinks what he wants and I do what has to be done and the matriarch just plows through our pantry and everyone seems to get along....Until the day we run out of sugar.
It's a Wednesday. I bought a 2 pound of sugar bag last Friday and it is gone. It is gone in the very real sense of empty sugar bowls and vacuous containers and my husband getting his mother her fruit for the evening and wondering why there is no sugar. He's been home. He knows the children have made bread this week, not cookies or cakes or ice cream. He knows I have been having a fit over other uncontrollable concerns and not eating anything. He knows his mother has been the receptacle of all things sweet lately; he knows because when he is off, it is the one thing he must do--get her fruit and sugar. He brought a bowl of fruit up to her room and she sent it back down wondering where the sugar was. Ever seen a grown man in a panic?
At nine o'clock in the evening, he didn't feel like going out to the store. So he stood there wondering what to do...
I suggested icing sugar.
Now, my husband looked at me and made a face and reacted with words to the effect of "She couldn't possibly want that..."
Things have been a bit tense lately. It's not so much the matriarch is a burden but more my burden. My husband has expectations for how things should be for his mother, which is fine, but he doesn't seem willing to do his fair share to carry some of the load. And, I have told him as much. Yes, I know having to do lunch once a week with his mother at the same fish'n'chip place is a never-ending chore, but it is only one day a week. The other six days are my responsibility. And, I have told him I need help. Some of the matriarch's expectations have to give way to compromises; am I being unfair asking an elderly woman to expect less? Her care is fine but I would like to be able to get out more; I would like to be able to go to a bookstore and not have to leave her sitting in the car while I nip in for a few minutes. I should be able to go out to a store and not have to take her with me. I should be able to take the children to the movies and it not be a secret from grandma. The compromises are not unreasonable. A simple conversation should enable them; but, I think my husband is afraid of his mother.
Do we become so set in our ways as we age that we are incapable of compromise? Do I want to admit the matriarch is something of an oligarch is this house? I don't know how who we are, our actual identity, becomes entrenched in the person we become but I wonder about a seniority being, literally, a life of having needs fulfilled and doing nothing for others. It's a weird kind of selfishness, I think. It is as though one expects their old age to be payback for the unselfishness of youth; does that make sense? And, I think there are some natures incapable of debating this issue, of saying to a parent, "You are asking too much of my wife, my children." But, then, what do you do? Put a parent in a home knowing it will lead to a life without the simple strawberry snacks and probably death?
But, back to the sugar; my husband took the advice, put icing sugar on his mother's defrosted strawberries, made a kind of thin syrup and the woman ate it. She ate it to my husband's chagrin. In the kitchen, he made faces because the very thought of how sweet such a snack would be was unbearable to him.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Do We Ever Admit to Being Old
So, here's the thing...the matriarch did not want to go to the spa this month. Not a big deal, I thought to myself, then I walked in on her cutting her own nails while sitting in her rocking chair. And, I looked at her and thought a number of things but said, aloud, "Don't you think we should take a visit for a manicure?"
"Nah, it costs too much..."
"But you can't cut your own nails."
"I do well enough." I guess so if one doesn't mind jagged, pointed, half-cut, knives at the end of one's fingers. The spa, for a once a month treatment, including pedicure, is not that expensive. It's a nice place; the people who run it are a Chinese family who make a big deal out of the matriarch's visits and usually give her a discount. Everything is done properly and the ladies usually paint flowers on the matriarch's nails. It is quite nice. I don't know what has gotten into the matriarch that she doesn't want to visit. For a side comment, I am not going to participate in my mother-in-law's grooming and she doesn't want me to do as much. But, we are back to the reality that my mother-in-law doesn't want to go to the spa.
It is her choice.
As much as I want the woman to go to the spa, I cannot force her; I can conjole, encourage, suggest but I cannot make her go if she does not want to go. And, this is the problem, if that's what one wants to call it, of aging. Do we ever admit that we are incapable of making choices on our own? Can one just make a decision for another person despite their wishes?
I am just talking about a spa and the matriarch doesn't have any money per se, but the same principles apply to parents who lend money to irresponsible children or who refuse to admit a house may be too big for them or a situation unacceptable. I know in my mirror I see myself and sometimes I cannot believe I am 42; I imagine the matriarch must half-look in the mirror and wonder, disbelievingly, that she will be 100 this year. I cannot imagine what she thinks. But I do know she can do whatever she wants...if she wanted to leave neither my husband or I could stop her, if she wanted to get married again, she could. And, while you may think, that such things would never happen, this is a woman who got married post 85 and then divorced 6 years later.
There are these conflicts in my mind; I know there are older people who are just fine, I also know there are older people who aren't but the problem exists with the older people who think they are fine, but are not. Do we ever admit we need assistance? And, does needing assistance mean relinquishing independence? And, then, which is what I struggle with most of all, does providing assistance automatically mean the assistant is supposed to be on call 24/7? It is all so confusing and there is no set rule for a general practice. I am not supposed to resent the matriarch but I absolutely do when she just expects certain things until she doesn't and then gets mad at me for not knowing. The key, of course being, how do I know if she doesn't tell me? What obligations are there, in old age, to tell people what one wants and needs as opposed to expecting them to know? And, the crux of the problem, I think, are these questions really connected to old age or are they hold overs from the characters we develop when we are younger?
"Nah, it costs too much..."
"But you can't cut your own nails."
"I do well enough." I guess so if one doesn't mind jagged, pointed, half-cut, knives at the end of one's fingers. The spa, for a once a month treatment, including pedicure, is not that expensive. It's a nice place; the people who run it are a Chinese family who make a big deal out of the matriarch's visits and usually give her a discount. Everything is done properly and the ladies usually paint flowers on the matriarch's nails. It is quite nice. I don't know what has gotten into the matriarch that she doesn't want to visit. For a side comment, I am not going to participate in my mother-in-law's grooming and she doesn't want me to do as much. But, we are back to the reality that my mother-in-law doesn't want to go to the spa.
It is her choice.
As much as I want the woman to go to the spa, I cannot force her; I can conjole, encourage, suggest but I cannot make her go if she does not want to go. And, this is the problem, if that's what one wants to call it, of aging. Do we ever admit that we are incapable of making choices on our own? Can one just make a decision for another person despite their wishes?
I am just talking about a spa and the matriarch doesn't have any money per se, but the same principles apply to parents who lend money to irresponsible children or who refuse to admit a house may be too big for them or a situation unacceptable. I know in my mirror I see myself and sometimes I cannot believe I am 42; I imagine the matriarch must half-look in the mirror and wonder, disbelievingly, that she will be 100 this year. I cannot imagine what she thinks. But I do know she can do whatever she wants...if she wanted to leave neither my husband or I could stop her, if she wanted to get married again, she could. And, while you may think, that such things would never happen, this is a woman who got married post 85 and then divorced 6 years later.
There are these conflicts in my mind; I know there are older people who are just fine, I also know there are older people who aren't but the problem exists with the older people who think they are fine, but are not. Do we ever admit we need assistance? And, does needing assistance mean relinquishing independence? And, then, which is what I struggle with most of all, does providing assistance automatically mean the assistant is supposed to be on call 24/7? It is all so confusing and there is no set rule for a general practice. I am not supposed to resent the matriarch but I absolutely do when she just expects certain things until she doesn't and then gets mad at me for not knowing. The key, of course being, how do I know if she doesn't tell me? What obligations are there, in old age, to tell people what one wants and needs as opposed to expecting them to know? And, the crux of the problem, I think, are these questions really connected to old age or are they hold overs from the characters we develop when we are younger?
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Why Suzanne Somers is Wrong and Aging is Awful
On January 4, the matriarch telephoned her friend to see how the woman was doing and found out she was in hospital and wanted no visitors. Today, she telephoned the woman's husband again and found out her friend was dead; she had died three days after the last phone call. What do you say to comfort someone who looks at you and says, "There's no one left. They are all dead. I have no one left to call."
For the most part, the matriarch is well; she is confusingly blind but she is able to walk, manage the stairs, take care of herself and watch the news. So, I make her meals but she does know who Stephen Harper is, Dalton McGinty and she could vote if she really wanted to vote. The matriarch can tell me when she needs candies or chips; she is not too good with the fresh fruit in her room, but can certainly make her bed. I don't know what really amounts to self-sufficiency but my heart goes to someone who is the last of her kind, whose friends have all moved on...
I think Suzanne Somers is wrong; living a long life is pointless if there is no one with whom to share it. Whatever I really think of the nature of the matriarch the point is, at one time, she did have friends and now they are dead. And the matriarch is still living. All alone.
For the most part, the matriarch is well; she is confusingly blind but she is able to walk, manage the stairs, take care of herself and watch the news. So, I make her meals but she does know who Stephen Harper is, Dalton McGinty and she could vote if she really wanted to vote. The matriarch can tell me when she needs candies or chips; she is not too good with the fresh fruit in her room, but can certainly make her bed. I don't know what really amounts to self-sufficiency but my heart goes to someone who is the last of her kind, whose friends have all moved on...
I think Suzanne Somers is wrong; living a long life is pointless if there is no one with whom to share it. Whatever I really think of the nature of the matriarch the point is, at one time, she did have friends and now they are dead. And the matriarch is still living. All alone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)