Mom's House, Mom's Rules

It is with mixed results that we bring our landscaping expedition full circle. The weather seemed to be working both for and against me, I worked more than connected, and poor Mom had almost bi-polar reactions to the excursion.

The weather somewhat cooperated by issuing rain only at night and offering a chilling sunshine during the day. I had not expected the windchill factor that occurred and was, therefore, left to huddle in a too-small, too-thin, borrowed sweatshirt, but I suppose the bright side of that was the quick dissipation of any hot flashes while I toiled against the weeds. However, Mom, who is always cold, preferred turning up the heat in the house to donning a sweater, so outside was frigid while inside was stifling.

As my stiff, tender joints will attest, I did make some weeding progress. Although I couldn’t make myself go out twice a day as planned, I did stay out long enough each day to accomplish an acceptable amount of work. The cold wind made it less than pleasant to be outside, but the sense of accomplishment was worth it. Regretfully, I did not make time to call any friends. I feel badly about this neglect because they are so good to me, but I will call them first thing when we go back next month. Now that the entire front yard, which is the most noticeable to passersby, is done, I will be able to slow the pace a bit next time and work in some visiting for both Mom and I.

It was difficult for Mom to make the decision to live with us year-round five years ago and so we have made an effort to visit and maintain her home as often as possible. Our trips have declined during the last three summers because of her health issues, but this year the change of venue seemed to be more draining than enjoyable for her. When she came out of her room the first hour we were there, crying over the toilet that kept running, I began to rethink trying to travel with her any more. It is no longer a matter of freeing her from all the planning, packing, cooking, and work. Something has changed this year. After three days of reflection, I am thinking that the mere effort of moving her limbs has become such an all-consuming job that Mom no longer has the energy to find joy in much of anything. She still loves having people visit if they come to her, but even that can become tainted with her worry over whether they are enjoying themselves, or if they still like her, or if Don and I are making them feel welcome, or what she could possibly do for them. Sadly, I think that perhaps her physical frailty has somehow also created an emotional powerlessness.

So our trip has been a success of sorts, but perhaps a hollow one where Mom’s happiness is concerned. Yet, I know deep down that not making the trip would not necessarily have lessened her frustrations and, now that we are back, she is pleased at the accomplishment and at the memory of the two people who had stopped in to see her. I hope this will be enough motivation for her to try again next month.