From October 1

Jeff is at a golf tournament today, which means he is not at home to keep me from posting this. He swears one day I am going to get myself arrested for just being my blunt and honest self. Well, after the last few weeks, maybe a couple free nights in a not so swanky hotel wouldn’t be so bad. Please know my heart, I LOVE my family, all of them. I am not upset with God about the circumstance we are in. I don’t regret our decision to move Grandmother in with us. I wouldn’t trade our situation for anything. Well, except maybe some plush accommodations on the beach. No, just kidding. I’d take my circus over the beach, just don’t offer it to me….
I digress, back to my story. This whole circle of life thing is quiet amazing to me. You really do grow up to only become a child again. The 81 year old in my house is experiencing a case of the terrible twos that made my kids’ tantrum threes seem like a cake walk. I really wish I understood this disease. How is it in an instant you can be sane, then suddenly worse than ever before?
We went to KY two weeks ago. Within an hour of arriving, Grandmother was ready to leave. The day after we get home, she is insisting I take her to KY because she hasn’t been in weeks. We talked about just going, and that as it was approaching the end of the month, I wouldn’t be able to go for a couple weeks because I was crazy busy with work. That didn’t go well, so she called her sisters demanding they come get her. They explained they couldn’t right now as they have their hands full as well. So, begins the “life isn’t fair” saga.
Let me tell you, hearing a child yell “life isn’t fair” grates my nerves. Hearing an adult scream life isn’t fair at me, sends me into 75 kinds of orbit. I try so hard to let it roll. “Misty, let it go. This is just a disease talking. You can’t rationalize with a disease. Let it go.” Well, I’m a stubborn soul and I usually suck at letting it go. I’ve told Grandmother a date that we can go back, so maybe she could focus on that. Not so much…..
This past week Grandmother has threatened to steal my car. For some weird reason, this has been that thing about having a dementia patient live me that is terrifying. I honestly don’t think she could figure out how to open the doors or crank the car. But, if she did, my Yukon would become a murder weapon. She had her driver’s license medically revoked 10 years ago. Her vision and judgement are terrible. Bad, bad things would happen with her behind the wheel. Please, Lord do not let that happen…..
This afternoon, I chose to work from home, as I have been gone from early in the morning to late at night all week. This makes Grandmother even worse. So, as I am pecking away on my computer, Grandmother is in my ear telling me how terrible her life is, how she doesn’t know what she ever did in her life to have to pay for it so much now, telling me I don’t treat her right, life isn’t fair, I should skip out on responsibilities at church or work to take her where she wants to go when she wants to go because she is 81 and she shouldn’t have to wait on people to get her way. Thankfully, I worked at home with toddlers, so I’ve mastered the art of engaging in meaningless conversation and working at the same time. In typical fashion, when I don’t respond the way she wants me to, or I just don’t respond at all, she stomps off with, “No body cares about what I say, I’m just not going to say anything else at all.” Whatever, you can’t argue with dementia, just go pout.
I leave and go get the kids at school. We come back, and as I am reading with the kids and doing spelling practice, she is demanding to eat dinner the whole time. I get really up in arms when she is mean to the kids or interrupts their special times. They’re giving up enough having to witness this progression, don’t take away my time from them. I kindly told her that I was taking care of homework, and we would have dinner at a reasonable hour. She should fix a snack. She grumbled, but settled for a minute. As we finished homework, I got a work phone call I had to take. She follows me out of the room, demanding I fix her a sandwich. I whisper what kind, she says just fix something. My precious 9 year old steps up, and says, “Grandmother I will fix your sandwich. It is my night to cook dinner anyway.” Of course Grandmother baulks at that, “No, you shouldn’t have to fix my sandwich, make your mom do it.” LK explains mom is working and she is free to fix it. She again asks what kind of sandwich she would like, to which Grandmother again insists she just make something. Well, LK decides to fix a turkey, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, colby jack sandwich. I am about to die as I watch this going down while talking on the phone. Grandmother tells her to take the turkey off. LK says, okay, but you told me to fix you whatever kind I wanted. Believe it or not, she at the sandwich with the cheese. I am quiet certain LK’s crazy sandwich was an attempt to teach Grandmother a lesson. She is after all, my clone, and that is totally something I would do if I didn’t have that adult filter that keeps me from being so childish.
Anyway, after our 4:00 sandwich, LK starts fixing our real dinner. For all the times she drives me crazy, she is truly a super amazing kid. She made corn and black bean salsa, guacamole, and chicken and cheese quesadillas all by herself. Grandmother of course had to have one of those too. To which, she replied this is terrible I’ve never had anything like this. I’m thinking, you just had an amazing fresh meal and you prefer a disgusting sandwich. Weird.
But, now she is in bed. My kids are in the shower, and I am drinking wine. I will watch my DVR tv shows, go to bed early and pray for more energy to face tomorrow.