Musings on Mom
Oct. 29th, 2002 09:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
susandennisI think we have the $70,000 thing put to bed again - at least for this month. She understands once again.
My Mom is June Cleaver with an attitude and a mouth. She raised her three children in the 50's while my Dad earned the bread as a saleman on the road much of the time. She quit her job when she got pregnant with me and never worked outside the home again. If she'd been born a decade or two later, she would have never had kids at all - she would have finished the law degree she started and likely had a much different life.
Once we all got into school she took up tennis again. She had been a state champion when she was in college. From the time I was about 8 until about 8 years ago, she played tennis competitively every chance she got. She was the captain of her over-70's team. My Dad played gin rummy - competitively. Well, not really. But, he was really good at it. Our family outings were always to the tennis courts but only Mom had raquet in hand. The rest of us were cheerleaders.
About 10 years ago as she was turning 70, Mom started having little strokes. Not big ones. Little ones but lots of them. She's had no lasting physical effects but mentally, they've kind of dimmed some of the original brain cells. Plus, Daddy died 3 years ago. They were married to each other for more than 50 years. And for the last 10 before he died, he was retired and they spent 95% of each and every day together. Happily. What she missed, he caught, etc.
She has her sharp moments. She has much of her original wit left but she also loses her keys every time she takes her hands off of them. I lose my keys, too, but rarely twice or three times in the same hour. We have a wonderful woman who takes care of the trust that Mom lives on and pays all the bills and keeps track of everything. We have her a good accountant and a good lawyer. But, Mom continues to fret about what money is where and does she have enough (yes). She can't remember to go down and get the mail and then gets really pissed when the stack is nearly too big for her to carry back up to her apartment. It's like she knows where a lot of the dots are but can no longer remember how to connect them all or why she needs to.
And she can get testy in a hurry. She hates to be reminded that she can't remember shit. I mean she really hates it. She's very careful not to snap at me most of the time. She's afraid if she pisses me off, I'll quit looking after her. She could very well be right. I don't do anything lifesaving or critical for her. What I do provide is a sounding board and a sanity check. And she kind of provides those for me, too.
The 3,000 miles between us and the internet make it all work. We could never make it living close to each other and our relationship would never work without email and webcams and stuff. We are very very lucky. And I have no idea what brought this entry on...
My Mom is June Cleaver with an attitude and a mouth. She raised her three children in the 50's while my Dad earned the bread as a saleman on the road much of the time. She quit her job when she got pregnant with me and never worked outside the home again. If she'd been born a decade or two later, she would have never had kids at all - she would have finished the law degree she started and likely had a much different life.
Once we all got into school she took up tennis again. She had been a state champion when she was in college. From the time I was about 8 until about 8 years ago, she played tennis competitively every chance she got. She was the captain of her over-70's team. My Dad played gin rummy - competitively. Well, not really. But, he was really good at it. Our family outings were always to the tennis courts but only Mom had raquet in hand. The rest of us were cheerleaders.
About 10 years ago as she was turning 70, Mom started having little strokes. Not big ones. Little ones but lots of them. She's had no lasting physical effects but mentally, they've kind of dimmed some of the original brain cells. Plus, Daddy died 3 years ago. They were married to each other for more than 50 years. And for the last 10 before he died, he was retired and they spent 95% of each and every day together. Happily. What she missed, he caught, etc.
She has her sharp moments. She has much of her original wit left but she also loses her keys every time she takes her hands off of them. I lose my keys, too, but rarely twice or three times in the same hour. We have a wonderful woman who takes care of the trust that Mom lives on and pays all the bills and keeps track of everything. We have her a good accountant and a good lawyer. But, Mom continues to fret about what money is where and does she have enough (yes). She can't remember to go down and get the mail and then gets really pissed when the stack is nearly too big for her to carry back up to her apartment. It's like she knows where a lot of the dots are but can no longer remember how to connect them all or why she needs to.
And she can get testy in a hurry. She hates to be reminded that she can't remember shit. I mean she really hates it. She's very careful not to snap at me most of the time. She's afraid if she pisses me off, I'll quit looking after her. She could very well be right. I don't do anything lifesaving or critical for her. What I do provide is a sounding board and a sanity check. And she kind of provides those for me, too.
The 3,000 miles between us and the internet make it all work. We could never make it living close to each other and our relationship would never work without email and webcams and stuff. We are very very lucky. And I have no idea what brought this entry on...