Rituals of Life

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

Oh, and last night, during a fit of a sinus attack that was at a Defcon Six around here. I thought of something else from the Evil of the Cupboard.

In my early twenties, like the freezer, I had realized I had never really fully explored the medicine cabinet, which is actually an entire shelf in the linen closet in our bathroom.

So, I mosey up to it, and start rummaging around.

In the front is all the pertinent drugs and ointments for my mom, brothers and myself ( I really didn’t have any as I was never taken to the doctor when I was sick.) As I went deeper into the cavern, I found two things that were slightly mystifying.

A jar of aspirin that expired in 1969.

And a roll of cotton in it’s original box that had become a part of my life every time I reached into the linen closests of life to get a towel.

Before cotton came in balls, it was in rolls. In boxes.

My mom happened by, and naturally, became upset because* I was gettin’ into something that I had no business gettin’ into. * I was starting to feel like Scooby Doo and the Gang, just being a nosy body.

I asked about the roll of cotton. In its box, only the first inch of cotton sticking out. It had always been like that in my life. No one ever used it. Like it was sticking its tongue out at me from the back of the linen closet every time I grabbed a fresh towel. An eternal Nyah, nyah.

" Ma," I said carefully, " Just how old is this?"

“That? Ohhhh, we got a bunch of medicine and stuff, like a first aid kid when we got married. That’s all that is left.”

“You have got to be kidding me. You married Dad, what? 1922?”

“Oh don’t be sassy.” She huffs." It was 1948."

“Same thing.” I look at the box of cotton, it near perfect state and am in wonder, " Why is it that this box of cotton is in pristine shape when you consider it has been through at least 16 moves to five different states? But, your wedding dress was last sighted stuffed in a pillow case back ten years ago and is considered missing in the Black Hole of Calcutta that is our basement?"

She laughs. " Oooh, I guess I figured I’d use the cotton more than the wedding dress."

“It looks like you used the dress longer, but not by much.”
And, for the record, that box of cotton is still sticking it’s tongue out in the back of her linen closet.

That has to be some kind of record.

22

Adding to Tanookie’s list:

Grandma seems to think that any foods close in consistency and color can be mixed together. Have some extra cocktail sauce? Just pour it into the ketchup bottle!

Nothing can go to waste - my cousin once had waffles over her house and she poured the leftover syrup (waffle bits and all) back into the syrup bottle for the next time!

She seems to think that everyone is dying. Every time you talk to her she asks 97 times whether people are okay. “Is the baby okay?” “Are you okay?” “Is Tanookie okay?” “Is the dog okay?” Second verse - same as the first.

You know you are getting old when you repeat yourself. You know you are getting old when you repeat yourself. You know you are getting old when you repeat yourself. ARGH! How many times does she have to tell you the same mundane thing?

Phone conversations never end - “I’ll let you go - I know you are busy” - and then starts right in on something else!

She seems to think that she can just ignore anything bad. Her water bill was unusually high one month and she just said that it was too much and she wasn’t going to pay it. She didn’t even think to call and ask about it - she just flat wasn’t going to pay. Same thing with a car insurance bill she got after she canceled the insurance on the van because we bought it - she just was going to throw it away. At least call and check it out to see if it was mailed before you canceled or something!

And god forbid if you say you are going to do something and don’t start right away. One day we were telling her that we were going to remodel the bathroom at some point. Every day after that she’d ask if I was working on it - nevermind if it was a weekday and I was doing my real job - I HAD to be working on that bathroom or she wasn’t happy.

Argh! :slight_smile:

23

Oh … one more for poor grandma… I take her to all her doctor appointments. I’ve seen more naked grandma than any one human needs. So she had a colostomy done because she had really advanced colon cancer. She’s told not to lift stuff. She lifts lots of stuff and gets an off bulge around the stoma. So she asks the doctor and he explains she has a hernia and gives a long discussion about her lifting and them being common with her surgery … so we’re in the van going home and I implore her yet again NOT TO LIFT … she says ‘what? It’s not like I have a hernia or anything’

Save me?

24

I feel your pain.

Even if I had just lopped off both my limbs with a chainsaw and suffered from advanced SARS, MonkeyPox and canker sores, I would never tell my mother anything was wrong. Hell, I still haven’t even told her about the near head-on collision in my van two years ago.

Because…a) she would have had a stroke b) she would have had apoplexy c)Had just buried one son in January and had another son in the hospital for the same thing as other son d) would manage to find away for the rest of my life to loop every problem I have back to said car accident. *The reason why you have split ends is because of your accident. * e) All of the above.

She only just noticed that we have a different van. Feh.

25

I swear I think we were all raised with the same mother! Mine has recently gotten onto the weirdest kick about medicines…

Mom has a heart problem. She’s had it for years - we joked that our family salute was to squeeze our left boobie and gasp. (Not real big on compassion in my family) So after years of angina pain, she waited to go to the doctor until she was good-and-sick. The last several years have been high blood pressure, heart problems, angiograms, and drugs. Well she’s been talking to my aunt (bad sign) - aunt is 13 years younger and only has mild diabetes and a Physicians Desk Reference. So Mom has not been taking her cholesterol drugs AT ALL and only taking her heart pills every other day BECAUSE she didn’t want to take so many pills. She won’t even OPEN her nitro pills, cause they’ll go bad in 6 months. But the heart pains?? Worse and worse and her cholesterol is through the roof.

So Mom goes in for a checkup and does she tell her doctor what she’s been doing? No - it’s none of her business. So Doc’s going to raise prescriptions because you’ve been lax about taken them and it’s HER fault. What kind of logic HIDES information from the doctor who is trying to KEEP YOU ALIVE!

<<sigh>> and don’t even ask about my father’s new knees. He hobbles around decrepitly until he’s in sight of the all-u-can-eat buffet and then he practically JOGS up to the food!

26

Oh. Dear. God.

Please tell me I’m not in store for this. My parents are relatively young, but I swear my mom keeps EVERYTHING. I mean, I can understand keeping some things. She has the table and chairs that my father made for me when I was 4. But, she still has scraps of fabric that she used to make my Barbie clothes with when I was little! Pieces of fabric, those lovely late 70’s patterns, in scraps smaller than a square foot!

The only thing I have her trained to get rid of is old prescription medication. Of course, I had to scare her into it, but she does it. When I was still working in a retail pharmacy, one day I visited home and decided it was time to investigate the medicine cabinet. My mother still had the Demerol that my sister took when my nephew was born. In 1978. :eek: I finally cleaned everything out of the cabinet, and told my mom that after a while certain medications become toxic. Nothing in her medicine cabinet is over 2 years old now.

I fear the day that I have to actually help my parents clean up their house. I’m scared of what I may find in hiding places!

27

I hear ya devena!! Grandma will solicit medical advice from everyone she speaks to and take whatever advice she likes best!

28

Parents and a PDR are things that should be never allowed.

Devena Try this line with your mom and the Nitro pills:

Mom, I know the nitro pills go bad in six months if you don’t open them, but if you die from chest pains, we cannot return them to the drug store for credit. So you might as well take them anyways.

I know, I know, it won’t work, but it’s worth a shot.

29

Skerri The only advice I have for you is this ** run far, run fast, do not look behind. Leave no forwarding address. Do not pass G0. ** You are doomed.
Hope this helps.

30

All three of my sisters live in the same town as our mom. One of them (at least) sees her everyday. I live over three hundred miles away. But I’m the one she talks to about any aches or pains she has (including a mini-stroke, which she didn’t mention to my sisters until after I had convinced her it was serious). Her take on most medical problems–“I’m old, there’s nothing you can do. When you’re my age fill in the symptom is just what you have to expect.” And Gods forbid that she should tell the doctor that anything is wrong–he’s getting old, she doesn’t want to worry him. (I swear she said that–she didn’t want her doctor to worry about her becasue he was under a lot of stress!).

All her daughters have computers and internet connections. But she will only ask me to research stuff on the internet for her–it may be finding information about the new drug her doctor put her on, it may be tracking down the name of the book that Oprah or Montel mentioned last week(and then ordering it for her), I’ve even tracked down receipes from the food channel (which I then e-mail to my sister so she can print it out to give to Mom). How I became the family computer expert, I don’t know, but it is the role I have been given, and once bestowed, there is no escape. Mom loved it when I got a cable modem–she has no idea what it is, but it means she can talk to me as I do the research for her!

She’s pretty good about keeping the cupboards and the freezer cleared out, but I did clean out the kitchen junk drawer and got rid of a multi-year collection of bread ties and tabs–how long has it been since a loaf of bread was 59 cents?

31

No doubt you will do exactly that. And your children will be patiently trying to explain to you why it’s not such a good idea.

32

Kallessa Dealing with parents who just think that illness and sickness and oh, woe is me mentality of I’m getting old and there is nothing I/You/anyone else can do about it. I’ll just sit here and listen to my bones crack and ear hair grow. So afraid to move or do anything that they might break a hip and y’know, it’s all down hill from there.
God, that’s just fun. Give into death. Why not sleep in a coffin every night. *You never know when you 'll just up and die *.

My mom has a therapist. She is starting not to tell him everything because a)what can he do for her b) I don’t want to bother him.

The sound you hear is me banging my head against the wall.

Laiaf I know my children will try to talk me into an Olds 88, circa 1987, which is the mandatory assigned Old People Car. The turn signal is left on for their convenience and the seats so low that all you can see is the tops of our heads and knuckles on the steering wheels.

33

**UPDATE on MY MOM **

She has just advised me that she went out an bought an Impala.

34

Well, I see you’re still functioning Shirley. It looks like you survived yet another “Mom crisis”. Did Mr. Ujest accompany her to the car dealer?

This is such a wonderful thread. I nearly laughed 'til I cried. My former MIL was Josephine and I had her for 23.5 years. She passed away a few years ago, but, oh! Thanks for the memories your thread conjured up. Libertarian’s parents passed away when he was young, so I’ll never have the pleasure (and laughs) of this ritual with them.

My mother is a very young 78 years old and hasn’t lost any of her marbles yet. When she does, my sister gets her. I paid my dues with Josephine. :wink:

I have a half-a-mind to run to the drug store and look for a box of cotton. I’ve realized that I shouldn’t have thrown mine out four years ago. What was I thinking? :smack:

35

Edlyn

No, Mr. Ujest was not included in the joys of haranging the poor car salesman and giving him baleful eyes.

She just went on her own and probably guilted the guy into as many discounts and rebates as she could then probably apologized for being such a pain.

She sprung the info on me today. Via the phone. I guess she did not want to see me bang my head against the wall for pure amusement.

Feh.

36

My auntie is remodeling her bathroom. She started before my parents were married. She says it’ll be finished soon. My parents were married in 1949.

37

My 87 year old grandmother, who I love dearly is in the early stages of dementia but still lives in her own home. I won’t tell tales about current behavior, its a bit sad, but some things have been life long patterns.

My dad is helping her out more and more these days, starting with her financial records. She was a book keeper, so her files are in perfect order. Including her Sears and Eatons charge cards files. (There hasnt been an Eaton’s in Thunder Bay since maybe 1997). In all the files are the statements, (going back to the early 1940’s) her cancelled cheque and …the little insert flyers selling you a purse, or monogrammed chequebook, or whatever. Datestamped. Initialed. This system also is used for the “saving energy tips” that comes with the Hydro (electric) bills and the gas company. (These only go back to 1963 when she and my Grandpa moved to their current house") “Oh you have to keep those, they sent them to me for a reason.”

There is much much more, but this is one I havent seen elsewhere, so thought Id share.

38

::::Resurrection and it feels soooo gooood!:::::::::::::
We’ve been using my husband’s mother (Oma) as our official babysitter. Since my hubands Perfect Sister has spawned and continues to spawn children ( four now, and that should be the end of it with her tubes being tied) she has taken up to raising…errr watching them for the *Perfect Sister Who Can Do No Wrong And Gosh I Don’t Know How She Does It All When She Has Four Children/Beautiful House/A Career/ Volunteers/Travels Extensively. * that is a therapy thread for another day.

Not wanting to give this woman any more work or take advantage of her co-dependant ways, we started looking for a sitter.

We found a nice 13 year old girl, named Jayln, who is the daughter of one of my husband’s former co-workers. Nice family. Some times they all watch our kids whilst we are gone for an entire day and they love our kids and they love them ( and their dog). It is a mutually satisfying experience. We are lucky.

So, I was telling my mother that we left the kids for the first time with a babysitter and the conversation went something like this:

" The kids had a babysitter while we went to see our friends play at a bar in Pontiac. We didn’t get home until after Midnight. Jalyn looked a little beat."

“Oh? How did the kids do?”

“Fine. The next morning they wanted her back to spend the day.” I said, knowing darn well what I would say next and exactly what my mother’s reaction would be and I could not stop myself. " I would love to have her back on a regular basis, but at $6 and hour, it isn’t…"

" Six Dollars an Hour!" shouts my mother into the phone. " You shouldn’t pay more than a dollar an hour! That’s ridiculous! "

I smile into the receiver, " Ma, when I was babysitting, I got three dollars an hour."

“When I babysat I was paid fifty cents for an entire weekend of watching our neighbors. Then I had to hand what I earned over to my parents.”

“Ma, that was back in the late thirties and forties…”

“I think it;'s ridiculous what these kids are asking.” She goes off on an intangent for awhile and I ignore her while washing dishes, smiling the entire time. " So, tell me, what is this girl like who is watching my grandchildren?"

“Her name is Jalyn and she’s…”

“Jalyn? Is she black?” can a suspicious tone.

My mother’s old ways of thinking never cease to amuse me and it is a source of entertainment for me. " Yes, mom, very black. As black as they come. " I can hear her frown and then squint in doubt at how I paint this girl. I finally confess that she is white.

“Is she Irish?”

" No mom, she is Greek. She sings If I were a rich man all the time." Growing up with the entire Irish are number one mentality just wears a body down and I know I have to head her off at the pass for the next one coming down the tube, " And I didn’t ask for references from her priest, so I can’t say if she is Catholic or Hasidic Jew. Can I continue?"

My mom tut-tuts, " Well, not everyone can be Irish and Catholic. Poor thing." She is joking because she knows this drives me nuts.
" How old is she?"

" 13 and in 8th grade."

"13!“She shouts into the phone. " What is she, retarded? You were twelve going into 9th grade.”

"Yes, but not everyone can be as smurt as me. " Nor can they be pushed through with the rest of the plaid skirted catholic lemmings. Lets not even bring up I was extremely shy and very socially immature amongst my own age. Old people or children, no problem. Kids my age just intimidated me, but I digress.

" There has to be something wrong with her if she is 13 and in 8th grade. I don’t want some retarded girl watching my precious babies."

Oh, yes, my mom is in fine form and I never have a tape recorder on to catch the insanity. " Mom, I assure you. She does not ride the short bus. She is into competitive dance, english is her favorite class and likes reading and is very quiet. She is alot like me when I was her age."

" But you weren’t retarded." She shoots back, amused.

Possibly, that is the nicest back handed compliment I’ve received from her. " I suppose you would like final approval over whom we pick for a sitter."

“That would be nice. First thing I would tell her is she’d get fifty cents an hour.”

“Ma…you can’t get a teenage girl to return your phone call with rates like that.”

" Then I’ll babysit them myself." She would too if they weren’t so full of energy and action.

“Well then, I’ll pay you twenty five cents an hour.”

" Deal, but you have to wash my new car…"

39

My grandfather is 93 years old. He’ll tell you he’s 94 because suddenly, for some reason, he’s decided that once you reach 90 you can begin including the gestational period in your age.

About 3 years ago we moved in to the house next door so we could keep an eye on him and my grandmother. They have lived in the same house since 1962. They have no central air conditioning (and this in Georgia, where summer time temps of 95 degrees and 90% humidity is common) but do have a window unit in the kitchen. It gets run about 3 times a year. The house is like a sauna, but “It’s too expensive to run the air!”. Never mind that they can afford it, it’s just not an expense they care to pay. I did install a ceiling fan in each of their bedrooms last summer, amid the cries of “But we really don’t need them!”. I had a trump card there, though. You see, we had been given new ceiling fans to replace these and I could counter their pleas with “Well, we were given new ones and I have no place to put these. You don’t have to use the fan if you don’t want to, just use the lights. They work perfectly well and if you don’t take them they will go to waste!”. Ooooooh! He played the waste card! Trump! Of course, the fans get used on a daily basis.

We finally talked my grandfather out of driving last fall after his 3rd (thankfully minor) accident in about a year. In the decade or so before the accidents the family joke was “Grandpa doesn’t have accidents, he just causes them”. On the last trip to the insurance office (all business must be done in person! The telephone is only for keeping up with kids, grandkids, great-grandkids who don’t visit often enough) I pulled the agent aside and said “Listen, we both know he shouldn’t be driving. Can’t you cancel his policy?” He replied “I’d really like to, but it’s a non-cancelable policy and he knows it.” Criminy, how long had he been with this company that he had a non-cancelable policy? Just pay your money and smash up whatever you like, when ever you like. Scary.

So we (the 8 or so licensed drivers in the family living within a 10 mile radius) have become chauffeurs. Grandpa loves it. Grandma had gotten to the point where she didn’t like to ride with him (she’s a smart old lady) so most of his trips were by himself. Now he’s guaranteed to have a captive ear on all of his excursions. We kept the 1985 Buick LeSabre (collectors edition!) that he and grandma love so much. It stays parked in their carport and I drive it to work every day so it looks like people are coming and going. Our lives are geared around senior discount day at Kroger, weekly trips to the Dollar Store and Aldi’s, periodic doctor appointments and every other day to the Post Office. Never mind that he also has a mailbox at the end of the drive, he will not relinquish that PO box. You get twice as many coupons that way, you know.

Being right next door also means that they can keep up with our comings and goings (MY, y’all got in late last night! Where did you go?), our visitors (Someone in a red Jeep was at your house while you were at work, is everything OK?) and our projects. The house we bought was built in the late 50’s and had an elderly couple living there the last 20 years or so. No real upkeep had been done since the early 80’s. It’s not so much a “fixer upper” as it is a “catcher upper”. Refinishing floors, removing and replacing disco style wall paper, etc. I have learned to add 25% additional time to any project to compensate for the “Grandpa factor”. He will walk over and start with “Whatcha doin’?” progressing rapidly to how he used to do that in the 40’s and then to how they did it on the farm when he was young and “Oh, have I told you the story about the time…”. Yes, he has. 13 times this month. But I’m gonna hear it again. At least I know when to laugh, so I don’t have to pay close attention.

I’ve only skimmed the top of the iceberg, but I think you know the rest. It makes for an interesting life, that’s for sure.

40

Doctor Jackson I never knew there was such a thing as un-cancellable insurance. Frightening is not even the word to describe what you and your family must go through. Perhaps, at the risk of a very bad pun, he is grandfathered in.

Since all business must be done in person, I can only wonder what it like for him to deal with voice mail.

My mom, " I hate talking to a machine!"

“Shhh, ma, you’ll hurt its feelings.”