Confusing

Because I work during the weekdays I have a habit of coming to see my mom when she is, as our caregiver says, "confusing". Mom is confusing at various points in the day and lately it's between dinner and bedtime. Once our caregiver finishes preparing mom for bed, she settles down.

So I arrived at an unfortunate time, bringing supplies for the apartment. Mom was in the bathroom, and when she came out she was happy and began to frown as she got closer to me. Then we sat together on the sofa and she started to cry. Like the emoji where tears are spurting out of the face or, for readers of a certain age, the cartoon Cathy.

So the caregiver and I began catching up -- I got a little further in the story she told me a few years ago about her employee stealing her furniture business in Tonga, which she realized after he had a chicken and a goat that he said someone gave him. And nobody gives you a goat for nothing.

Mom doesn't like it when the caregiver and I talk, and especially when the caregiver vents her frustrations to me. It makes my mom, who can't track the conversation think something is wrong. So she slapped my hand a few times, and then pounded me with the heel of her hand:

Mom: You are not my child.

Me: Do you promise?

Mom: You can just go to hell!!

Me: Will I find you there?

Caregiver: Hides her face in her hands, turns away and laughs uncontrollably

I live for making her laugh. Especially about religious stuff.

I wasn't really able to shift mom's mood, so I left. I didn't want to make things worse for her and the caregiver. It's sad that I arrive and mom cries. I often wonder if it would be better if I didn't visit.

On the way out I saw my fake mom, Joan (real name). As usual she greeted me with a big smile, and reached up to me asking where I've been. She reminds me of a more together version of my mom, but more outgoing. Absolutely beautiful, with eyes that could slash you if you made a misstep. I've seen her get into it with another resident. I bet she treats her son horribly, but she treats me like I matter and I always say hello. In many ways Joan is dessert when I arrive and when I leave my mom, as I get to interact with her both times. 

It helps.