January 8, 2017
I knew yesterday or the day before that I needed a break from going to the Matriarch's. I didn't say anything, though. I just kind of decided I'd ask for a day off later in the week, and then when I woke up in the middle of the night to discover my husband was still up at 4:00 AM, I realized any hope I had of having someone else (aka, my husband) get up and do the morning visit was a pipe dream. He's always been a night owl and these past months have been really, incredibly late. 4:00 is normal.
So when I woke up and there was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground, I turned into passive-aggressive complainer. Snow. The kids aren't going to want to walk in the snow to church. I'm not going to make it back in time, so I'll try not to make them too late.
Apparently it worked, not that I was trying to get something out of it consciously, and my husband got up with me, dressed warmly, and we left together. He complained the whole way that there was not very much new snow. I suppose I deserved that; I could have done it myself, just like I had said. He's a significantly more confident snow-driver than I am with 17 years more experience (I didn't get my license until I was 26). When we returned home with only 12 minutes to get the kids to church, I knew his accompanying me was the right thing to do.
Even better, he didn't make me have to talk to the Matriarch because she would have asked me how the contra dancing went last night and I had decided not to go for no good reason (except that I really, really, really wasn't looking forward to it). I didn't want to talk about it.
Even best, when he got home, he didn't go back to bed! Instead, he made a pot of coffee and he's incredibly not cranky even a little bit.
Self-care rules:
1) SPEAK UP about the things you think, even if you think you might be being selfish
2) GO to the things that make you happy
3) TAKE FULL ADVANTAGE of the opportunities to share the load when they are presented.
Your own rules are the easiest to break.
Matriarch
,
self-care
,
support
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Nothing Gets Done All At Once
January 7, 2017
Morning
Wake @ 9:20
Drag out of bed @ 9:45
Remember to bring the new 8 pack of Coke that was refrigerated; decide not to bring the other two in case I decide to walk; Remember to bring potato salad and ice cream
On the day-old snow 5 miles, arrive at 10:10
Decide to drive up the gravel road, and bring the trash can back, finally.
Let the dog out
Cokes, V8, fresh ice, potato salad with a side of sweet relish, perhaps the last of the sweet relish.
Check the other refrigerator for more relish. Can only find dill. I should have checked the cabinet. Try to remember to buy sweet relish.
Long-sleeved shirt from closet, Dog treats from kitchen per request
Diapers, laundry, dishes, trash,
Dog food, dog water
Lace up and leave
Baby steps
Evening
Leave party @ 5:45
Decide to bring the kid we we're taking home to her house so we don't have to make a second trip that way. She always says it's okay to bring people. She doesn't mind. This is a great development--kind of her old self coming through
Quick dinner of the macaroni & cheese casserole from my son's birthday
Basic chores (Cokes, V8, fresh ice, diapers, trash, laundry, dog water)
Ask if she needs anything
*note we didn't bring up the other 8 packs of Coke; we need to remember to put one in the fridge
Mention she'll need sweet relish; she has one serving left
Kristian checks the cabinet. I had forgotten as soon as I thought of it earlier. Two sweet relishes.
*note not to buy any more sweet relish
*hope I remember not to buy more sweet relish
Take out large trash can liner & alllllll the bags of diapers from the past four days (why does it seem like longer?) try not to gag because one got put in the house trash and wasn't frozen
Can't find the bungie cord in the snow to hold the lid on and prevent the can from blowing away in the high winds of the high desert. Consider this is probably weighed down enough.
Can't find the bag of diapers left where the trash can should have been, probably buried. Possibly a rabbit or something larger took it.
*note to keep an eye out when the snow starts to melt
Baby steps
checklist , food , Matriarch , unmentionables
Morning
Wake @ 9:20
Drag out of bed @ 9:45
Remember to bring the new 8 pack of Coke that was refrigerated; decide not to bring the other two in case I decide to walk; Remember to bring potato salad and ice cream
On the day-old snow 5 miles, arrive at 10:10
Decide to drive up the gravel road, and bring the trash can back, finally.
Let the dog out
Cokes, V8, fresh ice, potato salad with a side of sweet relish, perhaps the last of the sweet relish.
Check the other refrigerator for more relish. Can only find dill. I should have checked the cabinet. Try to remember to buy sweet relish.
Long-sleeved shirt from closet, Dog treats from kitchen per request
Diapers, laundry, dishes, trash,
Dog food, dog water
Lace up and leave
Baby steps
Evening
Leave party @ 5:45
Decide to bring the kid we we're taking home to her house so we don't have to make a second trip that way. She always says it's okay to bring people. She doesn't mind. This is a great development--kind of her old self coming through
Quick dinner of the macaroni & cheese casserole from my son's birthday
Basic chores (Cokes, V8, fresh ice, diapers, trash, laundry, dog water)
Ask if she needs anything
*note we didn't bring up the other 8 packs of Coke; we need to remember to put one in the fridge
Mention she'll need sweet relish; she has one serving left
Kristian checks the cabinet. I had forgotten as soon as I thought of it earlier. Two sweet relishes.
*note not to buy any more sweet relish
*hope I remember not to buy more sweet relish
Take out large trash can liner & alllllll the bags of diapers from the past four days (why does it seem like longer?) try not to gag because one got put in the house trash and wasn't frozen
Can't find the bungie cord in the snow to hold the lid on and prevent the can from blowing away in the high winds of the high desert. Consider this is probably weighed down enough.
Can't find the bag of diapers left where the trash can should have been, probably buried. Possibly a rabbit or something larger took it.
*note to keep an eye out when the snow starts to melt
Baby steps
checklist , food , Matriarch , unmentionables
Friday, January 6, 2017
Snow Day
January 6, 2017
The snow is deep. Since my husband got the car stuck yesterday in the evening, I chose not to try to drive up the hill. I pulled off the road at the mailbox, rummaged around in the snow for the papers from the past two days and found them both. I had a grocery sack in one hand and the newspapers in the other, and had brought gators for my legs to protect them from the snow, a super furry rabbit hat for my head, and waterproof gloves for my hands. It almost felt like overkill. I tromped up the road like I had done yesterday out of necessity, but today I did it out of choice and perhaps over-caution.
Since the snow was so thick and the city can't afford snow removal (since there is so rarely snow, especially over 24 hours of falling snow, there is rarely a need to budget for snow), schools were delayed two hours and a friend of mine texted me the schedule so I knew if and when my daughter had class. The delayed-start announcement doesn't affect most people: they just go to school two hours later and do whatever is posted and the bells and teachers tell them to, whether that's shorter periods or no class at all. Homeschoolers who only use an extracurricular class for one period a day, and not the first period, are left in the dark about whether they just have a short day or all short periods. It was quite generous for my friend to send me that info. My daughter was less pleased, though, and I made sure she knew to call me before actually leaving the building since I still had to go take care of the Matriarch.
I was about 15 minutes over schedule with that trip, because of the walking and the roads. She called just as I was lacing up my boots.
It was convenient that school was starting late in that the Matriarch had decided to ask us to visit just twice a day. Instead of a 8-9:30 window, a 12-1:30 window, and a 6-7:30 window, we would just visit in a 9:30-11 window and a 5:30-7 window. She has always tried to make it easier on us and reduce the number of times we have to come up. It's going to be inconvenient for most other days, in that the 8-9:30 window is perfect for school days where I drop my daughter off at 8:10 and pick her up at 9:10. I can care for her and do a few other errands before returning to pick up my daughter, make our bakery visit, and then go home. Especially since the school is 5 blocks away and the bakery is 5 blocks away. There's not really an inconvenience there. On the new schedule, I'll not have to leave my 5 blocks, so I'll likely just head home and do something at home for an hour before heading back out. And then I'll have to go home for another half-hour to hour before heading back out for the first visit of the day. I do not see this as an efficient use of my time.
Go away, come home, go away, come home, go away, come home...
I wonder if there's some other way to make this change, though, because this is not a reduction in load for me; instead, it increases the impact of the interruption.
It worked for today, though, and that's enough for right now.
daughter , Matriarch , self-care
The snow is deep. Since my husband got the car stuck yesterday in the evening, I chose not to try to drive up the hill. I pulled off the road at the mailbox, rummaged around in the snow for the papers from the past two days and found them both. I had a grocery sack in one hand and the newspapers in the other, and had brought gators for my legs to protect them from the snow, a super furry rabbit hat for my head, and waterproof gloves for my hands. It almost felt like overkill. I tromped up the road like I had done yesterday out of necessity, but today I did it out of choice and perhaps over-caution.
Since the snow was so thick and the city can't afford snow removal (since there is so rarely snow, especially over 24 hours of falling snow, there is rarely a need to budget for snow), schools were delayed two hours and a friend of mine texted me the schedule so I knew if and when my daughter had class. The delayed-start announcement doesn't affect most people: they just go to school two hours later and do whatever is posted and the bells and teachers tell them to, whether that's shorter periods or no class at all. Homeschoolers who only use an extracurricular class for one period a day, and not the first period, are left in the dark about whether they just have a short day or all short periods. It was quite generous for my friend to send me that info. My daughter was less pleased, though, and I made sure she knew to call me before actually leaving the building since I still had to go take care of the Matriarch.
I was about 15 minutes over schedule with that trip, because of the walking and the roads. She called just as I was lacing up my boots.
It was convenient that school was starting late in that the Matriarch had decided to ask us to visit just twice a day. Instead of a 8-9:30 window, a 12-1:30 window, and a 6-7:30 window, we would just visit in a 9:30-11 window and a 5:30-7 window. She has always tried to make it easier on us and reduce the number of times we have to come up. It's going to be inconvenient for most other days, in that the 8-9:30 window is perfect for school days where I drop my daughter off at 8:10 and pick her up at 9:10. I can care for her and do a few other errands before returning to pick up my daughter, make our bakery visit, and then go home. Especially since the school is 5 blocks away and the bakery is 5 blocks away. There's not really an inconvenience there. On the new schedule, I'll not have to leave my 5 blocks, so I'll likely just head home and do something at home for an hour before heading back out. And then I'll have to go home for another half-hour to hour before heading back out for the first visit of the day. I do not see this as an efficient use of my time.
Go away, come home, go away, come home, go away, come home...
I wonder if there's some other way to make this change, though, because this is not a reduction in load for me; instead, it increases the impact of the interruption.
It worked for today, though, and that's enough for right now.
daughter , Matriarch , self-care
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Desert Snow Day
January 5, 2017
My son was born on the 12th day of Christmas. After today, we can put up all the decorations and kind of go back to a normal life. It marks the end of the holiday season, officially, for us. The next two January birthdays are the daughter's and her toddler who was adopted out, neither of which we expect to celebrate. So we're good until April.
It was snowing when we got up. I scraped the car and the sidewalk and took my daughter to orchestra at the high school. Then I made my way home and picked up my husband, who took the pot of coffee and his pillow and we went up to his mom's house to wait for the washing machine technician. He did the morning chores at his mom's since my daughter needed picked up. He'd lay down and try to nap. The tech's window was between 8 and noon, and he wasn't ready to be up.
Since it was a school day, my daughter and I had our bakery stop. We always go after orchestra. It was a kind of bribe to make sure she went every day and didn't skip one--if she skips one day of orchestra, we stop going to the bakery. We picked up a cake for my son.
Back at the house we grabbed the boy himself, also not ready to wake up. While he dragged himself into shoes, we fed the dogs so they would be happy while the house was empty. I scraped the car again and shoveled the walk for the third time. We carefully headed up to wait with dad. On the way, the washing machine tech called and said he was there, and was this white car us? (no) and there was no way he was making it up that hill to the house. I said I would call and have my husband meet him, or I would be there in five minutes, either way. It took me ten because of the storm, but he wasn't in his van. Also, the white car was right in the middle of the driveway and I couldn't get around it. So, my son and I tromped through the snow to the house and my husband tromped back to the car and drove it over a desert shrub of some sort to get it around the white car.
The washing machine needs a part. The tech knew quickly, and checked his inventory, and ordered it while standing holding his laptop in the snow in the middle of the driveway. The snow was still coming down. He returned to his truck after leaving a service ticket with us; he hadn't been able to get to the next town over because of terrible visibility, so he stayed at the bottom of the hill for quite some time. I wondered for a while if we were the only job he could accomplish today.
We wrapped all my son's presents in newspaper in about a million layers because we're an ornery family like that, and brought it all to the Matriarch's room to share the opening. My melty-mommy heart was in full force as he appreciated everything with such joy and didn't complain or be sarcastic or anything actually normal for him. He loved all his gifts and hugged his granny and immediately started in on the new board game.
Though we brought the cake, we didn't eat it, and we left about the time we would have done the second visit of the day. We did all the afternoon chores before we left--diapers, food, dog water, blankets, laundry, dishes, more cans of V8 and Coke and fresh ice packs in the cooler.
We didn't have to tromp through the snow on the way back out.
Birthday entertainment spotted the rest of the day, mostly revolving around snow, as the storm continued and six sidewalk-shovelings later you still couldn't tell I had shoveled.
The evening visit of the day was kind of treacherous. The evening chores got done quickly because we had to go make dinner. Then we got stuck in the snow on the way out, and had to message the friends that dinner would be later than we expected.
The snow day ends snowily, still snowing, and with an extremely happy and snuggly 12-year-old.
checklist , daughter , Matriarch , son , support
My son was born on the 12th day of Christmas. After today, we can put up all the decorations and kind of go back to a normal life. It marks the end of the holiday season, officially, for us. The next two January birthdays are the daughter's and her toddler who was adopted out, neither of which we expect to celebrate. So we're good until April.
It was snowing when we got up. I scraped the car and the sidewalk and took my daughter to orchestra at the high school. Then I made my way home and picked up my husband, who took the pot of coffee and his pillow and we went up to his mom's house to wait for the washing machine technician. He did the morning chores at his mom's since my daughter needed picked up. He'd lay down and try to nap. The tech's window was between 8 and noon, and he wasn't ready to be up.
Since it was a school day, my daughter and I had our bakery stop. We always go after orchestra. It was a kind of bribe to make sure she went every day and didn't skip one--if she skips one day of orchestra, we stop going to the bakery. We picked up a cake for my son.
Back at the house we grabbed the boy himself, also not ready to wake up. While he dragged himself into shoes, we fed the dogs so they would be happy while the house was empty. I scraped the car again and shoveled the walk for the third time. We carefully headed up to wait with dad. On the way, the washing machine tech called and said he was there, and was this white car us? (no) and there was no way he was making it up that hill to the house. I said I would call and have my husband meet him, or I would be there in five minutes, either way. It took me ten because of the storm, but he wasn't in his van. Also, the white car was right in the middle of the driveway and I couldn't get around it. So, my son and I tromped through the snow to the house and my husband tromped back to the car and drove it over a desert shrub of some sort to get it around the white car.
The washing machine needs a part. The tech knew quickly, and checked his inventory, and ordered it while standing holding his laptop in the snow in the middle of the driveway. The snow was still coming down. He returned to his truck after leaving a service ticket with us; he hadn't been able to get to the next town over because of terrible visibility, so he stayed at the bottom of the hill for quite some time. I wondered for a while if we were the only job he could accomplish today.
We wrapped all my son's presents in newspaper in about a million layers because we're an ornery family like that, and brought it all to the Matriarch's room to share the opening. My melty-mommy heart was in full force as he appreciated everything with such joy and didn't complain or be sarcastic or anything actually normal for him. He loved all his gifts and hugged his granny and immediately started in on the new board game.
Though we brought the cake, we didn't eat it, and we left about the time we would have done the second visit of the day. We did all the afternoon chores before we left--diapers, food, dog water, blankets, laundry, dishes, more cans of V8 and Coke and fresh ice packs in the cooler.
We didn't have to tromp through the snow on the way back out.
Birthday entertainment spotted the rest of the day, mostly revolving around snow, as the storm continued and six sidewalk-shovelings later you still couldn't tell I had shoveled.
The evening visit of the day was kind of treacherous. The evening chores got done quickly because we had to go make dinner. Then we got stuck in the snow on the way out, and had to message the friends that dinner would be later than we expected.
The snow day ends snowily, still snowing, and with an extremely happy and snuggly 12-year-old.
checklist , daughter , Matriarch , son , support
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Disposable
January 4, 2017
It's a holiday week, so the trash pickup won't likely come today, but I don't have a good way to find that out and leaving the trash by the road isn't a problem. We started using the can again, with liner, when she started wearing Depends.
This is my preferred method. I mean, if I have to manage any of her body waste, this is my preference. The bedside toilet we used for the better part of a year was gross, splattery, smelly, and all-in-all an awful way to go from a caregiver's point of view.
Then we moved on to her actually being able to use the toilet. We installed the arm-supports and extra bits so she could get on and off herself, and made sure the toilet paper was in reach when she was using her wheelchair. The motorized wheelchair was a godsend to our routine. Her being able to use her own bathroom and toilet was the best thing that had happened in a long time. But then she started being constipated, which led to her stopping eating, which led to her being too weak and too atrophied to be able to get to the toilet, which led to the mess, frustration, and finally a request that we bring her Depends.
Then a whole new system started, and that's what we're on now. She changes herself, which is time-consuming and frustrating, but she's getting better and more efficient at it and prefers that to needing help. Her strokes left her without the use of her left hand and leg, so it's quite a struggle to manage the whole process. She finds it humiliating. I'm just grateful I don't have to deal with actual waste anymore and can just carry a bag to the outdoor can, and then lift the can into the hatchback, and then that's my whole job.
It's not the cleanest system, and they leak. She makes a mess on her bed, so we have about thirty absorbent pads that she rotates through. We run about four in a load of laundry, and that reveals another part of the "estate care" that is part of the job: her new washing machine is broken. Tomorrow a tech comes, and we hope he can fix it quickly. The washing machine was purchased after she got her chair so that she could wash her own laundry: it and the dryer are front-loading. Now that she's back to being bed-bound, it doesn't matter, except the gross laundry is stacking up.
We took a load of pads to the laundromat and had to wash them twice there. We had about fifteen to get cleaned, and they just didn't work so well as a full load. We hauled them wet back to her house so we didn't have to pay for the drying, too.
Anyway, I hope the trash comes today.
condition , embarrassment , Matriarch , unmentionables
It's a holiday week, so the trash pickup won't likely come today, but I don't have a good way to find that out and leaving the trash by the road isn't a problem. We started using the can again, with liner, when she started wearing Depends.
This is my preferred method. I mean, if I have to manage any of her body waste, this is my preference. The bedside toilet we used for the better part of a year was gross, splattery, smelly, and all-in-all an awful way to go from a caregiver's point of view.
Then we moved on to her actually being able to use the toilet. We installed the arm-supports and extra bits so she could get on and off herself, and made sure the toilet paper was in reach when she was using her wheelchair. The motorized wheelchair was a godsend to our routine. Her being able to use her own bathroom and toilet was the best thing that had happened in a long time. But then she started being constipated, which led to her stopping eating, which led to her being too weak and too atrophied to be able to get to the toilet, which led to the mess, frustration, and finally a request that we bring her Depends.
Then a whole new system started, and that's what we're on now. She changes herself, which is time-consuming and frustrating, but she's getting better and more efficient at it and prefers that to needing help. Her strokes left her without the use of her left hand and leg, so it's quite a struggle to manage the whole process. She finds it humiliating. I'm just grateful I don't have to deal with actual waste anymore and can just carry a bag to the outdoor can, and then lift the can into the hatchback, and then that's my whole job.
It's not the cleanest system, and they leak. She makes a mess on her bed, so we have about thirty absorbent pads that she rotates through. We run about four in a load of laundry, and that reveals another part of the "estate care" that is part of the job: her new washing machine is broken. Tomorrow a tech comes, and we hope he can fix it quickly. The washing machine was purchased after she got her chair so that she could wash her own laundry: it and the dryer are front-loading. Now that she's back to being bed-bound, it doesn't matter, except the gross laundry is stacking up.
We took a load of pads to the laundromat and had to wash them twice there. We had about fifteen to get cleaned, and they just didn't work so well as a full load. We hauled them wet back to her house so we didn't have to pay for the drying, too.
Anyway, I hope the trash comes today.
condition , embarrassment , Matriarch , unmentionables
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
A Day Sort-of Off
January 3, 2017
Tuesdays are mine. They belong to me to do with as I please. Tuesday is the most important day of my week.
I woke this morning--the last Tuesday before school starts and I'll have to get up to give a ride to orchestra because violins don't get to walk in the cold--at 9:50, which is ten minutes before my caregiver meeting. I decided to get up and go.
Tuesdays are caregiver meeting days. I sit at a table in a charming coffee house run by the hospice umbrella. They have all sorts of grief and support groups.
The first thing I learned is that I'm not a caretaker, but a caregiver. She's not dead yet, and she's not an estate (although, I do caretake the estate, and this group also advises me in this).
The second thing I learned is that caregiving is hard and frustrating and horrible and funny. I learned that it's okay to want to complain about having to care for someone, it's okay to talk about unmentionable things, and it's okay to admit the toll it takes on you. No one there is going to judge you for it. We've all been there. We all know. We're going to comfort you and give you advice on how to self care, and how to manage the frustrations and developments, and we're going to point you in the right direction when you have questions. And we know you're doing it out of love. No one becomes a caregiver of a family member for the money or the fame. We care because we do just that.
The third thing I learned is that the day you don't bring paper and a pencil is the day you need one.
Everything else about the caregiving group I learned in no particular order.
I've been going for over a year, now. The leader of the group has heard my story change over the past year, and the attendees have changed and returned and have suffered loss. I mean, this is a terminal illness, old age. People get old and die, and while they're getting old, they need care.
I get Tuesdays because it is the day we have hired a CNA to come to the house. She's supposed to bathe and attend to the Matriarch's health. She's a mandatory reporter so if anything goes awry (as it had before, when the daughter was in the house; so much elderly abuse) then she has to report it. She's also able to evaluate whether the Matriarch is eating, or if there is a major change in condition, or any other things. She leaves notes of recommendation and we try to incorporate it. She does light housekeeping and keeps company.
She also needs managed, though. Like the housekeeper that comes on alternate Wednesdays, I have to keep an eye on her and leave notes. We had to implement a "clean" "dirty" sign on the dishwasher because there are four people having the responsibility of dishwashing, and I can't vouch for the other two knowing how to tell if dishes are clean or dirty. It sounds sad. It is. I left notes last week saying "Don't use washing machine: it's broken!" and found a very very very soaked load of laundry in there because she did it anyway. I left a note that said "No knives in dishwasher" and found a slew of the finer knives--you guessed it--in the freshly-run dishwasher. (Also the Princess Crystal, but I decided not to tell anyone about that. I'll just wash it all and put it away before people come. Best choice.)
The housekeeper and the CNA I would prefer not to have to manage, because Lord knows I already manage enough people in my life, but the freedom to leave the dirty dishes and never vacuum or fold laundry--this is mundane stuff I don't have to spend my time doing. I can give care without becoming a housekeeper in a second house. It's totally worth it. I don't have to do everything, I just have to make sure everything gets done.
Matriarch , self-care , support , Tuesday
Tuesdays are mine. They belong to me to do with as I please. Tuesday is the most important day of my week.
I woke this morning--the last Tuesday before school starts and I'll have to get up to give a ride to orchestra because violins don't get to walk in the cold--at 9:50, which is ten minutes before my caregiver meeting. I decided to get up and go.
Tuesdays are caregiver meeting days. I sit at a table in a charming coffee house run by the hospice umbrella. They have all sorts of grief and support groups.
The first thing I learned is that I'm not a caretaker, but a caregiver. She's not dead yet, and she's not an estate (although, I do caretake the estate, and this group also advises me in this).
The second thing I learned is that caregiving is hard and frustrating and horrible and funny. I learned that it's okay to want to complain about having to care for someone, it's okay to talk about unmentionable things, and it's okay to admit the toll it takes on you. No one there is going to judge you for it. We've all been there. We all know. We're going to comfort you and give you advice on how to self care, and how to manage the frustrations and developments, and we're going to point you in the right direction when you have questions. And we know you're doing it out of love. No one becomes a caregiver of a family member for the money or the fame. We care because we do just that.
The third thing I learned is that the day you don't bring paper and a pencil is the day you need one.
Everything else about the caregiving group I learned in no particular order.
I've been going for over a year, now. The leader of the group has heard my story change over the past year, and the attendees have changed and returned and have suffered loss. I mean, this is a terminal illness, old age. People get old and die, and while they're getting old, they need care.
I get Tuesdays because it is the day we have hired a CNA to come to the house. She's supposed to bathe and attend to the Matriarch's health. She's a mandatory reporter so if anything goes awry (as it had before, when the daughter was in the house; so much elderly abuse) then she has to report it. She's also able to evaluate whether the Matriarch is eating, or if there is a major change in condition, or any other things. She leaves notes of recommendation and we try to incorporate it. She does light housekeeping and keeps company.
She also needs managed, though. Like the housekeeper that comes on alternate Wednesdays, I have to keep an eye on her and leave notes. We had to implement a "clean" "dirty" sign on the dishwasher because there are four people having the responsibility of dishwashing, and I can't vouch for the other two knowing how to tell if dishes are clean or dirty. It sounds sad. It is. I left notes last week saying "Don't use washing machine: it's broken!" and found a very very very soaked load of laundry in there because she did it anyway. I left a note that said "No knives in dishwasher" and found a slew of the finer knives--you guessed it--in the freshly-run dishwasher. (Also the Princess Crystal, but I decided not to tell anyone about that. I'll just wash it all and put it away before people come. Best choice.)
The housekeeper and the CNA I would prefer not to have to manage, because Lord knows I already manage enough people in my life, but the freedom to leave the dirty dishes and never vacuum or fold laundry--this is mundane stuff I don't have to spend my time doing. I can give care without becoming a housekeeper in a second house. It's totally worth it. I don't have to do everything, I just have to make sure everything gets done.
Matriarch , self-care , support , Tuesday
Monday, January 2, 2017
It's Like They're Not Adults
January 2, 2017
So much food.
Dinner for the birthday girl went well, but her mom came.
The same mom that "borrowed" money from the Matriarch to buy a car so she could drive her son to school every day now asked if that son could stay with us (of course he can, his bedroom is here; he has a permanent home until he graduates; why is this so hard for a homeless woman to understand?)
There were awkward moments where the Matriarch had to change her diaper and the door to her room has been removed because her motorized wheelchair wouldn't go through. She changes her own diapers.
But we survived the company, and the dinner, and people are getting more comfortable sitting around her new bed on stools to chat about their day, their goals, and events of the world.
I had set aside one serving of dinner so she could have leftovers. It's so hard to know what she will or will not eat, but I am almost positive every time we have a homemade dinner, she'll eat leftovers from that if we bring it.
She builds a grocery list the length of my arm and then doesn't know what she has. It's all not very good, anyway. Things like canned soups, microwave dinners, salty and sweet snacks. She will eat sweets and pie and then everything else she'll bury in Tabasco sauce and pepper. Studies show that you have 1/3 your peak number of sensing cells for taste by the time you're 60, and it just continues to decrease. Add to that the amount of effort necessary to chew food, and you have a recipe for "I might as well just drink the sauce from the bottle" for experience and effectiveness.
The leftovers, the other leftovers, were planned into future meals. The cheese plate will become macaroni and cheese casserole. The vegetables and remaining beef from the bread dip will become pasta sauce. She won't care about the pasta but she'll be real excited to have the macaroni and cheese.
So perhaps my nephew will return home tomorrow, and start school on Wednesday for the first time all year. And there is food in the future.
drama , food , Matriarch , nephew
So much food.
Dinner for the birthday girl went well, but her mom came.
The same mom that "borrowed" money from the Matriarch to buy a car so she could drive her son to school every day now asked if that son could stay with us (of course he can, his bedroom is here; he has a permanent home until he graduates; why is this so hard for a homeless woman to understand?)
There were awkward moments where the Matriarch had to change her diaper and the door to her room has been removed because her motorized wheelchair wouldn't go through. She changes her own diapers.
But we survived the company, and the dinner, and people are getting more comfortable sitting around her new bed on stools to chat about their day, their goals, and events of the world.
I had set aside one serving of dinner so she could have leftovers. It's so hard to know what she will or will not eat, but I am almost positive every time we have a homemade dinner, she'll eat leftovers from that if we bring it.
She builds a grocery list the length of my arm and then doesn't know what she has. It's all not very good, anyway. Things like canned soups, microwave dinners, salty and sweet snacks. She will eat sweets and pie and then everything else she'll bury in Tabasco sauce and pepper. Studies show that you have 1/3 your peak number of sensing cells for taste by the time you're 60, and it just continues to decrease. Add to that the amount of effort necessary to chew food, and you have a recipe for "I might as well just drink the sauce from the bottle" for experience and effectiveness.
The leftovers, the other leftovers, were planned into future meals. The cheese plate will become macaroni and cheese casserole. The vegetables and remaining beef from the bread dip will become pasta sauce. She won't care about the pasta but she'll be real excited to have the macaroni and cheese.
So perhaps my nephew will return home tomorrow, and start school on Wednesday for the first time all year. And there is food in the future.
drama , food , Matriarch , nephew
Sunday, January 1, 2017
This Is My Story
January 1, 2017
Morning:
9:00, 5 mile drive. Warm car, cozy mittens, pop radio.
got paper, let out dog
checked diaper bag
*noted it was empty
tossed aluminum, rinsed dishes
*noted what didn't get eaten
refilled cooler with 2 Cokes, 2 V8, fresh frozen inserts
left note because I forgot to put new small Cokes in the fridge so I had to give her a big Coke, put a small coke in a freezer coolie-cup. Maybe that would help.
signed note with a heart
made a dish of potato salad and probably too much sweet relish, put in cooler
checked cooler pocket for a fork
fed dog, refilled water
surveyed the mess from last night--we left everything, toys, games, snack dishes
we did run the dishwasher, that's good
brought up shipping boxes to send out financial paperwork for East-coast cousins, because she hasn't been able to be responsible for the family trusts for a decade, now, and they're finally ready for their crap. Last year at this time, I was pleased to be done with it. Two years ago, today, I spent the afternoon sorting through the paperwork mess and labeling boxes.
A lot has changed in two years.
I've been doing this a long time.
We'll be back at noon or one or two to make Birthday Dinner for the pregnant Birthday Niece. Niece's brother won't come. Niece's boyfriend might not make it. Niece doesn't want her mom there, and Matriarch doesn't want niece's dad there, or her mom's boyfriend. Matriarch's sister probably won't come (related to the financial paperwork, of course).
This is my story.
Two children, a husband, a Matriarch, the Matriarch's daughter and her...family.
I care for them all, on one level or another.
I also care for me.
checklist , drama , intro , Matriarch , nephew , self-care
Morning:
9:00, 5 mile drive. Warm car, cozy mittens, pop radio.
got paper, let out dog
checked diaper bag
*noted it was empty
tossed aluminum, rinsed dishes
*noted what didn't get eaten
refilled cooler with 2 Cokes, 2 V8, fresh frozen inserts
left note because I forgot to put new small Cokes in the fridge so I had to give her a big Coke, put a small coke in a freezer coolie-cup. Maybe that would help.
signed note with a heart
made a dish of potato salad and probably too much sweet relish, put in cooler
checked cooler pocket for a fork
fed dog, refilled water
surveyed the mess from last night--we left everything, toys, games, snack dishes
we did run the dishwasher, that's good
brought up shipping boxes to send out financial paperwork for East-coast cousins, because she hasn't been able to be responsible for the family trusts for a decade, now, and they're finally ready for their crap. Last year at this time, I was pleased to be done with it. Two years ago, today, I spent the afternoon sorting through the paperwork mess and labeling boxes.
A lot has changed in two years.
I've been doing this a long time.
We'll be back at noon or one or two to make Birthday Dinner for the pregnant Birthday Niece. Niece's brother won't come. Niece's boyfriend might not make it. Niece doesn't want her mom there, and Matriarch doesn't want niece's dad there, or her mom's boyfriend. Matriarch's sister probably won't come (related to the financial paperwork, of course).
This is my story.
Two children, a husband, a Matriarch, the Matriarch's daughter and her...family.
I care for them all, on one level or another.
I also care for me.
checklist , drama , intro , Matriarch , nephew , self-care
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