Before I Forget: Sharing my love for God, family, gardens and my sweet Momma
Wife of one, mother of 2+2, and Grandma of 6 (3 girls and 3 boys!) and full-time caregiver for my sweet Momma with Alzheimer's. Passionate about Jesus, grandkids, Awana Clubs, gardens, quilts and cooking.
“Hi, Cindie!” said Momma with more brightness in her voice than a live-in caregiving daughter hopes for at 1:52 a.m.
“Hi, Momma,” I groggily responded as I peered into her bedroom doorway. “What are you up to?” The soft light from the streetlight outside mom’s bedroom window snuck in a bit through the slats of her blinds, allowing me to see her distinctly hunched form in silhouette as she sat in the dark on the edge of the bed.
Math has never been my strong suit. My earliest memory of my aversion to mathematics goes back to grade school. Details are fuzzy, but flash cards and standing with chalk in hand at a blackboard with snickering classmates behind me were involved in the torture. No amount of remedial help or after supper tutoring from my dad could erase the ill feeling of dread and fear whenever our teacher would stand in front of the class with a stack of paper and ask us to put our books away and take a pencil out of our desks. I can still picture her walking up and down each row of evenly spaced desks, placing a sheet of paper face-down on our desks, instructing us not to turn it over until she gave us permission. The only thing pleasant about the dreaded math quiz experience was the strangely pleasing pungent aroma of the alcohol (spirits) on the fresh, purple-inked quiz paper freshly printed on a “spirit-processed” Ditto machine (now I’m really dating myself).
I dreaded getting my paper back after my teacher graded it too. That purple ink on the page would more often than not be accompanied by numerous red check-marks next to each wrong answer. Oftentimes, right next to the grade at the top of the paper, there would be a little note from the teacher that said “See Me” or something like that. It was embarrassing to never quite “get it” when everyone else around me (so it seemed) was catching on just fine.
In marriage, opposites often attract. My husband enjoys math. It’s probably not an exaggeration of facts to say that
playing with numbers brings him great satisfaction. On a related note, he truly enjoys spreadsheets. Creating them. Updating them. Analyzing them. Sharing them. He’s the type of guy that looks at pieces of information and says with a smile, “Hey, let’s build a spreadsheet for that!”
While I struggle with remembering which credit card to use in each purchasing situation, drag my feet at keeping spreadsheets updated, struggle with understanding investment principles, and chafe at always being asked for receipts for updating those spreadsheets, I can be thankful my husband is strong in those areas. His love of managing details means we can pull up a piece of needed information with a moment’s notice when caring for my mom and brother. It means he is a natural choice to be their financial power of attorney (a job I very willingly relinquish). It means our own budget is always balanced. Our retirement investments always well-tended and growing. Our bank account never lacking. Our vehicle and home maintenance always scheduled at appropriate times. Our emergency fund always available. Our taxes always done on time and without error. Our giving always done wisely and with generosity.
This post is another in a series of my Facebook posts from 2015 related to caring for my mother. It’s really hard for me to re-post it without shedding my own tears. Those who are walking alongside a loved one struggling through the various stages of Alzheimer’s will probably relate very well. By the time you realize that the momentary lapse of memory is something more than the natural aging process forgetfulness, hints at “forgetting time” or how to tell time have already begun.Continue reading “Forgetting Time”
It was therapy. It was love. Inspiration. Repose. Edification. Heart-to-heart sharing.
Today my hubby took a turn hanging out with Momma so that I could get away for a few hours to take my second Chinese watercolor lesson. Truth be told, it was much more than a painting lesson. Much, much more. Continue reading “Art Therapy”
Several of my friends are (or have been) caregivers for a loved one with Alzheimer’s. It is interesting to note that many of them have shared that their loved one often “behaves better” for their spouse or an outside caregiver. That is certainly the case for my care-giving relationship with my mother. She can be fussy as all get-out all afternoon with me, requiring the tenderest of care, but the minute her son-in-law walks in the door, all is well. Her world is secure. She really appreciates all that he does for her…and so do I.
It is generally not a good idea to leave a person with Alzheimer’s alone. We are at the point in the progression of the disease where it is never a good idea. But, after a few days of company and a revolving door of caregivers, Mom needed her space and wanted to be left alone. I’m thankful for D-Link, a Wi-Fi camera which allows me to keep an eye on her while I sit in the apartment lobby and work on a bit of writing for my new blog. There are other security cameras out there, but this is the one we chose after doing a little comparison research. D-Link is affordable, easy to set up, allows for multiple cameras (in other rooms), and offers 15 feet of night-vision, and the ability to pan and tilt the camera remotely. Continue reading “Giving Momma Space”
What irony that I am posting this reminisce on the very night that my mom got into a carton of ice cream behind my back. She had no recollection of where the empty carton came from, but her tummy remembers. Continue reading “Ice Cream and Car Keys”