An Easy-ish Day

Mrsguy was not eager to recreate the literal madness of the day before, a day that began with my mom telling me "You *know* that there is nothing wrong with me. You *know* that," and ended with her wearing herself out only after hours of haranguing me. Poor mama. She so hates what I've done to her.

I arrived to find her attending the morning programming and dozing off. The complete opposite of the day before. Was she worn out or was it the Seroquel? TBD. I took a seat nearby and let her be peaceful. Eventually I joined her for part of a movie and lunch (uneventful) and some tennis. I didn't stay much past the witching hour. My middle sister called, and I heard mom say "We're just going to be here a little longer and then go home," and I knew that was my cue. I found our PAL, said "Hey, I'm going home and need cover," and booked it out of there. 

Never have I been more grateful to water the garden. Meanwhile mrguy, oldest neph and oldest neph wife tackled the last of mom's old apartment. The fridge and the patio took them several hours to clean. There is more to do over there.

I'm not going to see my mom tomorrow. I need a break.

A New Member of the Imaginary Family

At this point I don't know how exactly I will extricate myself from this whole mess with my mom. She's kinda obsessed with me, with moving, with everything. There isn't room in her life for my life at all. If I make a move to establish any distance, even if it is a GAZE, she starts complaining, accusing or melting. That's just the emotional stuff. If I leave her alone, she'll probably fall and it will be harder for all of us.

Last night we woke at 3am to look for an imaginary dog. We had to look everywhere, multiple times. Then in the morning we made progress by accepting a shower from a staff member. But soon we were back to the ream of insults, punctuated by a persistent desire to come to work with me. She wants a job. But I can't explain any of the reasoning for why it's not Bring-Your-Almost-95-Year-Old-Mom-To-Work-Day today. So more slings and arrows. "Well someone helped you be where you are today, can't you help me?" "I don't want to just visit, I want a job."

A week ago today we packed her apartment. From that time I began running a marathon. Now that the marathon has concluded I have to sprint uphill until my mom is dead. When it all seems unsurmountable I remind me of the large number of big tasks we've completed successfully in the past month. That's what's keeping me going. 

Piano Exits, Stage Left

Today a miraculous thing happened: our family piano left the home. Through the front door, no less.

It had been much loved. It was originally my grandparents', and then the mama inherited it. My sweet cousin, who was an accordion-playing child star on radio in the 1930s, used to play it when she came to visit us. And she's really the only one who did any longer.

My siblings had piano lessons. I, the baby that saved the marriage and broke the pocketbook, did not. It would have been a good idea, though, because I loved the piano. I'd pick out melodies on it constantly (mostly commercials and game show themes). And when I threw a sheet over the top of it, it was my dollhouse / fort. I'd bring my Kiddles under there with me and play.

And long before I heard of "prepared piano", we used to toss poker chips into the strings.

Michael Feinstein once played it. He came to our house to buy a short-term insurance policy from my dad and asked to play the piano while he was there.

And I once asked Danny Goodwine (real name) to eat his lunch under it with me. This was the beginning of a long list of bizarre things that I considered romantic that boys and then men did not understand. Until mrguy, of course, who gets anything.

Anyhoo, the much-loved piano is going to my first cousin, once-removed. This cousin has an autistic son who has just discovered the piano. This cousin came to visit my mom a few weeks ago and was explaining that his son gravitates to a piano whenever he is near one. Mom asked him if he wanted it, and a match was made!!

I sent him the security code, a picture of where the key is hidden, and instructions to toss out Coco the neighbor cat if she appears. He let himself and the piano movers in, and Operation Baby Grand went off without a hitch.

Massage? Not!

 

Yesterday was amazing. The moving company came and finished unpacking my mom's apartment. I was able to run out and get her groceries and champagne. It looked beautiful! Mom was super appreciative.

But today is a new day and she has reservations. It's noisy and hot. She's miserable, Middlesis is miserable. I'm miserable.

Yuck.

After several days of moving, family vacation prior to that (most of which I spent either sleeping in the same bed as Mom or keeping an eye on her), I'm pooped. And to not have resolution, rest, a moment to enjoy the success of yesterday? It's kinda awful.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Was going to take the day off and get a massage, but now I'm going to have a discussion with my sister about how to make things better.