I’m trying to like dark chocolate. Trying, but I’m not there yet.
Not even close.
While others love it and say, “It’s healthier for you,” it still tastes rather bitter to me. Now, wrap that bittersweet dark chocolate morsel in a whole lot of milk chocolate and I’d be one happy girl.
That kinda describes my day today. A chunk of bittersweet life wrapped in layer upon layer of the sweet stuff I truly love.
My bittersweet morning began around 3:00 am with Momma waking me out of my slumber with a lot of talking and groaning. A quick peek at the video monitor showed me she was confused, asking herself questions and trying to figure out where she was. She had left her walker and shoes on the opposite side of the bed from where she usually keeps it. Just that ‘little bit of different’ totally disoriented her from being able to find the bathroom just a few feet away. Willing my sleepy head off my comfy pillow, I headed downstairs to reunite her with her walker and gently point her in the direction of the bathroom. I sat in the chair in the corner of her room bleery-eyed and awaiting her return. She needed a little extra help with navigation for the return trip, but was soon tucked safely back in bed.
As I smoothed the covers over her, she looked around the room then asked me, “Am I in the hospital?” I assured her she was at home in her own bedroom and that I would be making her a yummy breakfast in a few short hours. It took about an hour for her to settle into sleep again, and then a little more time for ME to drift off into sleep once again.
The sweet layer on my bittersweet start to the day came a little later in the morning. My granddaughters Mia and Noelle, and Natalie, a sweet girl Mia’s age that I dubbed my ‘honorary granddaughter,’ worked on an art project together.
[Actually, the sweet layer began a few weeks ago when my daughter rescued a roadside treasure from the curb and delivered it to my doorstep. My Beth is well known for her ability to turn someone else’s trash into treasure.]
Yesterday, I set the girls up with all the supplies they needed to turn that discarded chair into an artistic treasure. First, I had them sand the old finish off of the chair and then give it a coat of primer.
Later they added a lovely coat of turquoise paint. Today they worked their collective artistic magic on the turquoise beauty as they embellished it with dainty painted flowers, curly vines and beautiful butterflies. I plan to clear-coat the elegantly appointed chair and place it in my garden as a lovely support for one of my pretty plants.
I had the girls paint outside under the shade of a nearby tree where their great-grandma could watch from the comfort of her chair at the kitchen table. I hoped she would enjoy the art show. But, no. Instead, she fussed about them getting paint on them and wondered aloud (over and over again), “What on EARTH are they doing?!”
As difficult as it was to listen to my mom repeatedly worry and fret, my grandmotherly heart was full to the brim with sweet joy as I watched my grandgirls have fun painting something that I will treasure for years to come.
While I tended to the after-supper kitchen cleanup, Momma watched through the kitchen window as my husband, our son, and a sprinkling of grandgirls were having a silly water balloon fight. She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table in a futile attempt to tell them that they needed to stop that foolish craziness. My daughter Beth tried to calmly reassure her grandma and help her understand that they were having fun, that everything was okay – to no avail.
For me, the bittersweet sadness in my mom’s anxiousness was wrapped in a lovely, sweet layer of my own contentment having my grandgirls and both my son and my daughter here at the same time. I relish the moments when we eat and play together as a family.
To help Momma relax, the water play was moved to the front of the house. Still, Momma worried aloud, “Where are all my kids?” With the exception of one granddaughter, all of them will leave tonight. Yes, my mom will anxiously wonder when they’re coming home. That makes me sad. It’s the bittersweet dark chocolate center to a lovely morsel of time wrapped in the milk chocolate sweetness of my being able to enjoy special moments with my grandkids in the midst of my caregiving responsibilities.
Just sharing a short thought that came to mind today. I can’t imagine doing life without my husband. I know that someday one of us may walk the road of life alone – for we know not what a day will bring forth. But today, as we quietly celebrate our 42nd wedding anniversary, I give thanks to God for this man with whom I share my life.
Most evenings Mom wants to help with the dishes. If it’s only a few plates, I’ll let her stand at the sink to dry. It makes me nervous though, because her legs are bowed and pretty unsteady, so we improvise a bit by bringing the dish draining rack to her place at the kitchen table. It takes three dish towels to do it this way: one under the dish drainer, one to use to dry dishes, and one to set the dried dishes upon. It does take more time than if I do it myself, but it makes my mother feel as though she is contributing to the household duties in a meaningful way. You can see contentment in her face as she helps, and that make any inconvenience worth it all.
My Facebook friends may remember this story. One day, not long ago, I left a cookie for my mom on a little white plate. Mom spied the treat on the countertop and gingerly carried it to her spot at the kitchen table. Everything in me wanted to help her carry it to the table. I let her handle this on her own, but stood nearby and at the ready should she need my help. Mom then plopped herself into her chair at the table. Then, in a sweet, melt-my-heart moment, I watched as she held the cookie between the fingertips of her prayerfully clasped hands, closed her eyes and quietly prayed,
Really, REALLY well. For times like that, we found a handy little device called a 
We now wash her hair at home. Hair washing is sometimes planned into our day. Other days – like today – it’s impromptu. 