Family Fits
You know, I love my family, I truly do, but there are times when they drive me completely bonkers. Really.
I have been saying for about two years now that our parents are getting really frail, and don't need to be living on their own any more. Mom is increasingly frail, and Dad has had a really bad fall, coming dangerously close to breaking his leg. He's got bad knees as it is (which I inherited from him), then there's the diabetes, and his cancer appears to be making a comeback.
Mom is frail, very frail, and getting absent-minded. A lot of this is nutritional in cause, and I have tried, and tried to get my sisters involved in getting them Meals on Wheels, and other services, but as the youngest, I've been pooh-poohed as "over-reacting" and "rushing" them. Dad is 85, and Mom is 81. Dad is getting to where he doesn't like to drive any more, and Mom is reluctant to give up their independence. I've had a battle on my hands these past two years, calling my sisters, because they actually live in Houston to check up on them, run errands with them, etc. I mean, this is not a huge stretch of the imagination. I spent a great deal of my time as a teenager, and as a twenty-something running errands for elderly relatives, taking them to doctor appointments, the grocery store, etc. We have nieces and nephews who could be doing this stuff, and yet... no one expects it of them, saying they've got jobs, or relationshipes, yada, yada, yada... all stuff that never worked for me when I tried to get out of that job myself.
Anyway, it's been a losing battle for me, and a very frustrating one, one which has kept me up late at night full of worry, and made my every visit with them an agony as THO and I spend less time visiting and more time fixing things, or doing things. This isn't to say my sisters haven't done anything, because they have. The Practical Sister takes them to doctor appointments... when she has time. As does the Blonde Sister. The thing is, our parents need regular, daily visits to make sure they're eating properly, and that they are doing okay. Something neither of my sisters seems to appreciate.
Until today.
The phone rang, and it was the Practical Sister, virtually in tears. "Auntie?"
"What's wrong?" I said immediately. "Which one is in the hospital?"
"No, it's nothing like that," she said, hiccuping. "It's just... it's time."
"It's time?" I repeated thoughtfully. "Time for what?"
"Mother and Daddy can't live on their own any more. It's time for them to sell their house and ... and... have help. I mean, not in a nursing home, but they can't live alone. They need to live with one of us."
Now, y'all should know that when the Practical Sister says, "One of us," it translates to "Auntie." She has already been saying for about five years now, "When Mother and Daddy can't live alone anymore, the Blonde Sister and I have always known that it would be you they'd be going to live with."
I will tell you right now. I love my Dad. But I don't like him. We do not get along. He pushes all my buttons, and then there's the growing up with an alcoholic thing, an alcoholic with a very unpredictable temper that I still have nightmares about... nope, I can't live with him again, no matter how incapacitated he is. If he had to move in with Auntie, Auntie would need massive doses of tranquilizers just to cope. The kind you give elephants. Seriously.
See, I spent a lot of time trying to get his approval. I played Little League baseball at a time when girls did not play Little League, just to please him. You have no idea the insults, and other crap I had to put up with during the three years I played. I was fortunately rather good at it. However, mostly what the other parents saw (yes, PARENTS, not the kids) was that I was a girl, who needed to be at home learning to be Susie Homemaker.
The moms were more vicious than the dads.
I tried to be good at a lot of things, to get his approval. And I starved myself when I couldn't. Because eating was the one thing I could control in a life that I felt had very little. I got very good at it. I weighed 87 pounds when I was 19 years old. At five foot, three and a half inches in height. Nope, not pretty. Took me a long time to realize I was not going to get his approval in the way I wanted. And that I needed to take him as he was.
There are good things about my dad. He's loyal to a fault, and if he thinks you're right, he will back you up 100 percent, no matter who's looking or laughing. He's amazingly polite, even when he's pissed off and furious. You'd never know it, but he can cut you down to size and never utter an off-color word, but it will make you feel ten times worse than if he did. He's stubborn, and tenacious, and when he makes up his mind about something, you aren't going to change it. When he decided to quit smoking at the age of 44, he did it, and that was it. No cold turkey, no wibbling, or going back and forth. He was done and that was it. When he quit drinking eight years ago, it was the same thing. He quit and that was it. No withdrawals, no changing his mind. He was done. Wish he'd done that forty years ago.
He's taught me some pretty cool things. How to put a worm on a hook,and how to get a bass off the hook without damaging its mouth. How to sew a button on a shirt. How to look at a problem, and step outside it so the solution comes to me. How to throw a left hook with a right follow-up. How to act like I'm not terrified when my knees are knocking together at 75 mph. Among many other things.
Like I've said, our relationship? It's complicated. There's a lot more, that I just don't want to get into. Because it still hurts. Let's just say I have very good reasons not to willingly want my father living with me, and especially not with my daughter in the house.
So, my sister is going on and on about how Mom is so frail, and Daddy's not doing so well, dizzy, yada, yada, yada, like this is all NEW and I'm going to be so surprised and so hard to convince. Like I'm the one who's been planting her feet and resisting!!
Yeah. Went over with a dull thud, as you can imagine.
I said, "When do you want to meet?"
She said, "What???"
I said, "I assume we're going to need to talk this out?"
She said, "Um... yes."
*tries not to laugh*
My sisters, they constantly underestimate me. I swear, they think I'm still fourteen!! Of course, the Practical Sister tried to reassure me that if Mother and Daddy (that's what SHE calls them, I call 'em Mom and Dad. Go figure) came to live with me, that I wouldn't be alone, that she'd come help, etc, et al.
I said, "My offer still holds open. I will help you find a place to live out here if you'd like."
She opened her mouth to protest and I cut her off. "Don't say anything. I just want to say this, and then you can talk. I have never, ever asked you or the Blonde Sister to babysit my kids, because y'all don't know my kids, and my kids don't know y'all. It wouldn't be fair to any of you. I'm kinda used to not having anyone to babysit my kids, and they don't really need it anymore, anyway. If you moved here, I would not call you to look after my kids. My best friend lived here in town for five years, and I hardly ever saw her. I would hardly ever see you, okay? We would not be in your back pocket. You could see us however much as you wanted to, all right? So, just think about it."
She was quiet, then said, "Auntie, I just moved to Houston from Denison. I don't think I'm up to another big move."
I said, "Hon, I'm not asking you to. I'm just telling to in order to plant a bee in your bonnet. Let it buzz around for a couple of years, and see how you feel. I'd like to have you closer to me, but if that's too much for you, that's okay, too. I just know you aren't in a very comfortable situation right now, and I want you to know you have options."
Yeah, I'm nice that way.
Well, the gist of it now is, she wants to have a big family confab in Houston this weekend. As it is right now, I don't think she wants Mom and Dad in on this. I plan to change that. If I've learned anything from what happened with THO's parents, it's not to just decide things without their input. They need to have a voice in this, too. Because just moving them out, fait accompli, will shorten their lives. I would rather not do that.
So,that's how my day has been so far. And now, I must go to the grocery store.
Thank y'all for letting me dump my anxieties on you. This is probably one of the longest posts I've ever made, but I'll tell you, though I still don't have things resolved in my mind yet, I do have a plan of action. So, we will see what we will see.
*sighs*
Does any of this ever get any easier?
I have been saying for about two years now that our parents are getting really frail, and don't need to be living on their own any more. Mom is increasingly frail, and Dad has had a really bad fall, coming dangerously close to breaking his leg. He's got bad knees as it is (which I inherited from him), then there's the diabetes, and his cancer appears to be making a comeback.
Mom is frail, very frail, and getting absent-minded. A lot of this is nutritional in cause, and I have tried, and tried to get my sisters involved in getting them Meals on Wheels, and other services, but as the youngest, I've been pooh-poohed as "over-reacting" and "rushing" them. Dad is 85, and Mom is 81. Dad is getting to where he doesn't like to drive any more, and Mom is reluctant to give up their independence. I've had a battle on my hands these past two years, calling my sisters, because they actually live in Houston to check up on them, run errands with them, etc. I mean, this is not a huge stretch of the imagination. I spent a great deal of my time as a teenager, and as a twenty-something running errands for elderly relatives, taking them to doctor appointments, the grocery store, etc. We have nieces and nephews who could be doing this stuff, and yet... no one expects it of them, saying they've got jobs, or relationshipes, yada, yada, yada... all stuff that never worked for me when I tried to get out of that job myself.
Anyway, it's been a losing battle for me, and a very frustrating one, one which has kept me up late at night full of worry, and made my every visit with them an agony as THO and I spend less time visiting and more time fixing things, or doing things. This isn't to say my sisters haven't done anything, because they have. The Practical Sister takes them to doctor appointments... when she has time. As does the Blonde Sister. The thing is, our parents need regular, daily visits to make sure they're eating properly, and that they are doing okay. Something neither of my sisters seems to appreciate.
Until today.
The phone rang, and it was the Practical Sister, virtually in tears. "Auntie?"
"What's wrong?" I said immediately. "Which one is in the hospital?"
"No, it's nothing like that," she said, hiccuping. "It's just... it's time."
"It's time?" I repeated thoughtfully. "Time for what?"
"Mother and Daddy can't live on their own any more. It's time for them to sell their house and ... and... have help. I mean, not in a nursing home, but they can't live alone. They need to live with one of us."
Now, y'all should know that when the Practical Sister says, "One of us," it translates to "Auntie." She has already been saying for about five years now, "When Mother and Daddy can't live alone anymore, the Blonde Sister and I have always known that it would be you they'd be going to live with."
I will tell you right now. I love my Dad. But I don't like him. We do not get along. He pushes all my buttons, and then there's the growing up with an alcoholic thing, an alcoholic with a very unpredictable temper that I still have nightmares about... nope, I can't live with him again, no matter how incapacitated he is. If he had to move in with Auntie, Auntie would need massive doses of tranquilizers just to cope. The kind you give elephants. Seriously.
See, I spent a lot of time trying to get his approval. I played Little League baseball at a time when girls did not play Little League, just to please him. You have no idea the insults, and other crap I had to put up with during the three years I played. I was fortunately rather good at it. However, mostly what the other parents saw (yes, PARENTS, not the kids) was that I was a girl, who needed to be at home learning to be Susie Homemaker.
The moms were more vicious than the dads.
I tried to be good at a lot of things, to get his approval. And I starved myself when I couldn't. Because eating was the one thing I could control in a life that I felt had very little. I got very good at it. I weighed 87 pounds when I was 19 years old. At five foot, three and a half inches in height. Nope, not pretty. Took me a long time to realize I was not going to get his approval in the way I wanted. And that I needed to take him as he was.
There are good things about my dad. He's loyal to a fault, and if he thinks you're right, he will back you up 100 percent, no matter who's looking or laughing. He's amazingly polite, even when he's pissed off and furious. You'd never know it, but he can cut you down to size and never utter an off-color word, but it will make you feel ten times worse than if he did. He's stubborn, and tenacious, and when he makes up his mind about something, you aren't going to change it. When he decided to quit smoking at the age of 44, he did it, and that was it. No cold turkey, no wibbling, or going back and forth. He was done and that was it. When he quit drinking eight years ago, it was the same thing. He quit and that was it. No withdrawals, no changing his mind. He was done. Wish he'd done that forty years ago.
He's taught me some pretty cool things. How to put a worm on a hook,and how to get a bass off the hook without damaging its mouth. How to sew a button on a shirt. How to look at a problem, and step outside it so the solution comes to me. How to throw a left hook with a right follow-up. How to act like I'm not terrified when my knees are knocking together at 75 mph. Among many other things.
Like I've said, our relationship? It's complicated. There's a lot more, that I just don't want to get into. Because it still hurts. Let's just say I have very good reasons not to willingly want my father living with me, and especially not with my daughter in the house.
So, my sister is going on and on about how Mom is so frail, and Daddy's not doing so well, dizzy, yada, yada, yada, like this is all NEW and I'm going to be so surprised and so hard to convince. Like I'm the one who's been planting her feet and resisting!!
Yeah. Went over with a dull thud, as you can imagine.
I said, "When do you want to meet?"
She said, "What???"
I said, "I assume we're going to need to talk this out?"
She said, "Um... yes."
*tries not to laugh*
My sisters, they constantly underestimate me. I swear, they think I'm still fourteen!! Of course, the Practical Sister tried to reassure me that if Mother and Daddy (that's what SHE calls them, I call 'em Mom and Dad. Go figure) came to live with me, that I wouldn't be alone, that she'd come help, etc, et al.
I said, "My offer still holds open. I will help you find a place to live out here if you'd like."
She opened her mouth to protest and I cut her off. "Don't say anything. I just want to say this, and then you can talk. I have never, ever asked you or the Blonde Sister to babysit my kids, because y'all don't know my kids, and my kids don't know y'all. It wouldn't be fair to any of you. I'm kinda used to not having anyone to babysit my kids, and they don't really need it anymore, anyway. If you moved here, I would not call you to look after my kids. My best friend lived here in town for five years, and I hardly ever saw her. I would hardly ever see you, okay? We would not be in your back pocket. You could see us however much as you wanted to, all right? So, just think about it."
She was quiet, then said, "Auntie, I just moved to Houston from Denison. I don't think I'm up to another big move."
I said, "Hon, I'm not asking you to. I'm just telling to in order to plant a bee in your bonnet. Let it buzz around for a couple of years, and see how you feel. I'd like to have you closer to me, but if that's too much for you, that's okay, too. I just know you aren't in a very comfortable situation right now, and I want you to know you have options."
Yeah, I'm nice that way.
Well, the gist of it now is, she wants to have a big family confab in Houston this weekend. As it is right now, I don't think she wants Mom and Dad in on this. I plan to change that. If I've learned anything from what happened with THO's parents, it's not to just decide things without their input. They need to have a voice in this, too. Because just moving them out, fait accompli, will shorten their lives. I would rather not do that.
So,that's how my day has been so far. And now, I must go to the grocery store.
Thank y'all for letting me dump my anxieties on you. This is probably one of the longest posts I've ever made, but I'll tell you, though I still don't have things resolved in my mind yet, I do have a plan of action. So, we will see what we will see.
*sighs*
Does any of this ever get any easier?