Last Sunday

Weekends are a challenge for my mom, and therefore us. We have a Saturday caregiver who can tolerate her. And we've lucked out with our current agency caregiver who works on Sundays, but even she has a hard time with mom, who is horrible to her. And unfortunately we need to replace the Saturday cg, who is a pain in the ass. We will replace her with an agency caregiver, and so far the agency caregivers have mainly not worked out. With that in mind, none of what happened last Sunday bodes well.

Saturday night: Sunday's caregiver calls in sick. I hear this from the agency, which is on the lookout for a substitute. This means that I go to bed knowing I have to go deal with mom and caregivers in the morning because I will either BE the caregiver for the day or have to train someone.

I report to mom's before 8. A substitute will arrive at 9. Yay!

I hang out with mom and mom's helper from memory care brings breakfast. It's not the usual, incredibly capable and nice person. Mom and I have "cozy bacon time" in which she eats breakfast and feeds me bacon.

There's a knock at the door and the substitute caregiver arrives. Mom immediately starts to act out, yelling and interrupting and throwing things as I try to explain what the cg needs to know.

Mom makes squinty eyes and buck teeth faces at the caregiver. Flips the bird and makes some other gestures that could mean something, or not. "No no no. I don't know her. Go away!"

The caregiver goes to see when my mom is going to get her medication that makes her slightly less of an asshole. While she's out of the room mom repeats the unpleasant mantra about the person she's with "I don't know her!! I don't want her!!" She starts spilling her water on the floor on purpose. I clean it up while she continues to say unpleasant things. I never do this, but I've had it with my mom. Like forEVER, so I say "Fuck you, Mom!! You are a TERRible person" 

It doesn't make me feel one way or the other, I tell my current therapist in our last session ever.

I leave. Since the day is already made poopy by my mom I compound the whole thing by having a long-scheduled discussion on the phone with my sister about replacing our flaky Saturday caregiver. This means that I will have to train and retrain caregivers until we find one who my mom doesn't hate. 

By the time I get home I have the song Evil Woman, by ELO, stuck in my head. I take a three hour nap with boy kitten. 

I wake up. One of our beloved regular caregivers texts me to say that she needs a right-now loan of $2,000. I got you, beloved caregiver.

Sunday suuuuucks.