Caring for Mother

When we are children we take for granted that our mothers will take care of us. That is their job. That is what our expectations for them is all about. Mothers are supposed to be the caregivers. What we don’t realize is that when we grow up that those roles will be reversed. As part of the Baby Boomer generation I am now faced with the job of care giver for my Mom. It gives you a whole new perspective into what they faced as mothers.

My mother lives in the house that she and my Dad moved into many years ago after Dad retired. The house is full of reminders of Dad. There is a picture in the family room of the house before Dad enclosed the side porch. Dad had to totally rewire the house. He painted, wallpapered, and built turning this old house into the house of his dreams. I have promised my mother that this will be her last home.

Mother is going on 84. The heart attack last year was probably accompanied by a stroke. Her sense of balance is precarious at times and she has to be really careful coming up the stairs that she doesn’t fall. I have watched as the curvature of the spine gets worse and this woman who has always stood ramrod straight is becoming increasingly bent over. I listen as she tells the same thing numerous times. She doesn’t remember saying it before and I try to make sure that I don’t let her know that I have heard it all before. Her hearing is becoming increasing worse and at times I feel like I am shouting at her in order to be understood.

Mom is facing cataract surgery on June 1^st. She has clamps that were put in many years ago in the abdomen area that are coming loose. The doctor does not want her under general anesthesia because with her heart the chances are good that she won’t come out of it. I worry if I can’t get hold of her in the afternoon when I call.

If they ever put “the most stubborn person” as a Guinness World Book of Records category my mother will win it hands down. She was out on Friday cutting weeds and “volunteer” trees down. She waits until I’m at work before she does things like that because she knows I’ll try and stop her. With her bad heart she doesn’t need to do strenuous things like that.

When I was growing up no one told me about being a care giver. No one told me that at times you will be frustrated enough to scream. No one told me that at times you have to hide in your room and cry. Being a care giver is the most rewarding job in the world. Being a care giver is also the most painful job in the world. In my mind’s eye I see my mother the way she was as I was growing up. It is hard to see her now so frail and often so ill.

I never know what to give her now as gifts. She doesn’t really need anything. She doesn’t wear jewelry. She has all the clothes she needs. She uses the same bath and beauty products she always has so getting her something different is a waste of money. It will sit on the shelf unused. One of her main joys in life now is her cat, Pixie. Lately I find that I am doing art work for birthdays, Christmas or Mother’s Day. I just put black cat with a white spot on her chest in the picture. She had suggested I do a “teddy bear’s picnic” on my Farmville farm. So this Mother’s Day she is getting a picture in her card of a “teddy bear’s picnic” with the added addition of her cat and a squirrel because Pixie love watching the squirrels.

I doubt with her health that there will be too many more Mother’s Days. I try to do the best I can with an extremely stubborn woman. I’m beginning to think that mothers should come with an “owner’s manual”. It would make being a care giver easier if I knew what I was supposed to do. In the mean time I just do the best I can and love her while I have her. Happy Mothers Day.