LifePundit

Connecting with our kids

With so many things going on, it's hard for me to remember that one of my most important jobs is nurturing Lily. And I'll do it -- in just a second!

Even she doesn't believe me anymore. And I need to stop believing it myself. Here's a post we all need to read over at Rindy's Experiencing the Journey.

I don't play enough as it is. After reading Rindy's post about how to connect with our kids, I dropped what I was doing and went horseback riding with Lily. It was fun for all of us.

It tastes healthy (is that a compliment?)

What to cook for supper? I really think it might be cheaper if we ate out. How can groceries cost so much? Plus, I'm really sick of cooking. I'm even more sick of trying to think of something interesting to cook.

So, I've gone back to trying new recipes in my cookbooks. Yesterday I tried a crockpot recipe for Tuscan Chicken or something like that. Lots of vegetables, garlic, beans, seasonings and one of my favorite ingredients, roasted red peppers. Plus you ate it over pasta (whole wheat in this case). Sounded good. Sounded healthy.

It didn't give off much of an aroma, which is not a great sign in crockpot cooking. But it looked pretty. All those colors.

We sat down to eat. Nobody said anything. Now, I need a lot of positive reinforcement. Whether I have bothered to pick up a sock off the floor or win at the Olympics, somebody needs to notice. I need praise. And Paul and Lily are really good about saying how good the food is for supper, which is why I bother (plus I like to eat good food and I'm eating with them.)

"So, how do you like dinner?" I said. There was a silence as I could tell they were trying to compose an answer. I was frankly disappointed in dinner. It badly needed something. It wasn't disgusting, it wasn't bland, it was just something you could stop eating at any time and not be sad about it. Say, if I hadn't cooked enough, that would have been a good thing.

"So, how do you like dinner?" I said again.

"It tastes healthy," Lily said.

Paul jumped right in. "Yes, I can tell this is really healthy. It's good. It's healthy."

"What about the taste?" I insisted.

"It tastes healthy," Lily said. I was having trouble continuing to eat. It just wasn't worth all that chewing.

They managed to eat most of what they had taken, but I didn't even bother to put the leftovers in the refrigerator. This morning I was honestly afraid that the dog wouldn't eat it. He left most of the beans and the vegetables, but he did like the chicken. What a shame. Not even our dog likes healthy.

Mama's cell phone doesn't work

My parents went to their garden in the country daily, even though Mama's Alzheimer's was pretty bad. Mama was like a Labrador retriever, and I don't mean this disrespectfully. Open the car door and she'd jump in. Where she was going didn't matter, especially if my father was driving.

But when he was diagnosed with aortic stenosis and told his heart could fail at any moment, he started worrying about what would happen to Mama if he keeled over out in the country. He asked me to get her a cell phone.

I got her one she could wear on a lanyard. I programmed it with one-button dialing for her children and grandchildren, so if she just held down a button, she would get someone who loved her. I put a label on the back that said which number would summon which loved one, in case she had the presence of mind to use it.

About a week later my Non-Saintly Brother (I have two brothers, one Saintly and one Non-Saintly) was sitting with Mama. "How do you like the phone Anne got you?" he asked.

"I don't," she said.

"Why not?"

"I can't call Ginny," Mama said. "Anne's got everyone on here but Ginny. I want to talk to Ginny."

Now, Ginny is her sister (my aunt). And there's a reason I didn't put Ginny's number on there. Ginny is dead.

Non-Saintly Brother couldn't resist. "She didn't put Ginny on there?"

"No," Mama said. "I can't call her."

"Well," said Non-Saintly Brother. "You'll have to get Anne to fix that. Ask her next time you see her."

Mama has Alzheimer's, as I have said forty-eleven times. But this little bit of bad advice slipped through the net of plaque and Mama remembered to ask me the next time she saw me.

"Anne," she said. "(Non-Saintly Brother) said you could get this phone fixed to where I can call Ginny."

I will not curse on this blog, so I won't write down the words that flared up in my brain. They are the same words you would have been thinking.

If I reminded Mama that Ginny was dead, then Mama would have taken the news as hard as if she had just heard it. "Oh no! Ginny's dead! When did that happen?" I didn't want her to revisit her grief. But I couldn't very well fix her phone to call Ginny.

So I said, "I can't, Mama. That phone can't call that far."

They're not getting any better

"When are you coming?" my father asks. I can tell he doesn't like to ask it, but if it's been more than a few days, that's what I get.

"When are you coming?" It reminds me of Paul's letter to ???? (I'm such a bible scholar), telling ???? to "come before winter." When are you coming? Come before winter.

His "retirement" community is a long drive from here. I think it takes between 45-minutes and an hour one say. You'd think I'd know, but that's not the sort of thing I keep track of. So I can't just run up there. If I'm not careful, I'll beat myself up for this. I've got this perpetual guilt thing going. I need to do something really bad to justify it.

Lily and I went to the retirement community today. My father looks terrible, really terrible. Just how terrible can you look and keep going? He kept having to stop and rest, even with his oxygen. And he wouldn't let me help other than stand within grabbing distance. (He ditched the walker when I got there; he's supposed to be in a wheelchair.) But it was Sunday, and he wanted to take Lily and me out for Sunday Dinner. He knows that she likes The Olive Garden, so that's where he wanted to go, even though he doesn't like pasta. (How can you not like pasta?)

I told Lily that next time we are taking him to his favorite Chinese restaurant. He's the one who doesn't get out much. But I'm about to beat myself up again. He got pleasure watching Lily eat her favorite food, and can hardly bring himself to eat, whatever it is. Did you know that you lose tastebuds when you age? I think the sweet ones are the last to go, which is at least a comfort.  Still, maybe he would eat if he was offered something appetizing.

The good thing about today was that Mama knew who we were (except Lily, who has grown so much she can't be recognized) and called us by name. She even said some sentences that made sense, and smiled at the flowers we brought her.

While we were visiting in the day room of the nursing center where Mama is, my father swept his skinny arm around pointing to all the people (who were not paying attention to him, as most were dozing in their wheelchairs). "Look at all these people," he said. "Do you see what's happening?"

It looked to me like they were napping and drooling, but there are some things you just don't say. "No, what?" I replied.

"None of them are getting any better."

Jesus Didn't Have a Mother-in-Law

Paul's birthday is this weekend, so we are going out to dinner with his parents.

Did I mention that I am covered over with old people? We've got my parents, who are 95 and in frail condition. So Paul's parents moved down here so we could take care of them, too. They are in their 70s and at the retirement community where they party all the time. I couldn't keep up with them. It's like a country club and a middle-school clique, all rolled into one.

But I shouldn't complain about being covered over with old people, because I know that the clock is ticking pretty loudly for my own parents. And I grieve.

Still, some people are easier to deal with than others. And you won't find my mother-in-law's name on anybody's list of people who are easy to deal with.

I haven't figured out what is the Christian response to a person like her. I know I'm supposed to love her, but I'm not good enough to conjure love where there is none. Paul had to explain her outlandish behavior to Lily, and I think he summed it up well when he said, "You just have to understand that Granny is a dog who bites."

If you want to see Granny's picture, just google "Narcissistic Personality Disorder."

Granny has so damaged her relationship with Lily that Lily will hardly speak to her. We force Lily to be polite, as she must be to all grown-ups. She will never have to be alone with Granny again, though. Still, Lily is wary and Granny knows why. So what does Granny say? "Lily, you go to church, yet you aren't a very good person because you don't forgive me."

Incidentally, Granny has never admitted that she did anything requiring forgiveness. But now I'm getting cranked up and I am determined not to go there on this blog -- or any other area of my life. I cannot change Granny, and so far I cannot change my reaction to her, but I can change me. Surely.

I dread tonight's dinner, like I dread all interactions with her. I have tried to find a biblical approach to dealing with her. Sometimes I think she falls in the category of allowing me to shake the dust off my sandals and get the heck out of there. I have given up on getting through to her. She only hears what serves her. I know I'm supposed to love her, but I am not able. The best I can do is pray for her -- and even more for me.

You see, I don't like who I am around her. I don't like who I am before we get together, when I am stewing about what she might say/do this time. And I don't like who I am after we get together, when I am stewing about what she actually said/did this time. Truly, the best thing to do is to avoid her. I should be a bigger person, but I'm not.

But I'm going tonight. It is Paul's birthday. He hates to see his parents, too, but he is a Good Son so they are invited. And I try to be a good wife, lover and friend, so I, too, will go.

Happy Birthday, Paul.  At least we know the food will be good.

Changing Churches

Paul drops off Lily at school in the morning on his way to work. This morning was yet another switch in the carpool line. It was such a mess that Paul decided in desperation that he should stop on the road so that Lily could hop out onto the sidewalk and run across the school grounds. Lily was afraid some one would honk at her, which would of course make her wither and die. I can hear her thoughts, "My dorky dad stopped on the street so somebody honked at us and EVERYBODY saw I was with him...."

So, Paul stopped. And the guy behind him honked. Not once. Not twice. But a whole bunch. Paul was about to make an obscene gesture but had the rare good sense not to.

Thank goodness! The honker was our soon-to-be former minister. He drove up beside Paul, rolled down his window, and said, "We miss you already. Lots."

We miss our soon-to-be-former church, too. I never thought we would leave there. I want to be buried in the church memorial garden wall.  Paul and I joined together, before we were married. We were married there. Lily was baptized there. They loved us and held us together through bad times. through pain and doubt and miscarriages and lay-offs. I had a difficult pregnancy, and when Lily was happily delivered alive and healthy and ready for life, one of the ministers I was very close to was at my side, smiling and filled with joy, before I was even off of the delivery table.

When I was admitted to the ER for other reasons, the minister who honked at Paul this morning was there beside me almost before the doctor. He told me words I will never forget, words that keep me going when there doesn't seem a reason to put one foot in front of the other.

We tried to give back, too. Both Paul and I served as Deacons (never the same years). We taught Sunday school, led small groups, tried to help out when we were called and led. What a joy and comfort to be a part of such a church family.

So why are we leaving?

Lily, of course. She is twelve. We have her for six more years at home. Six more years to put her in the right path. She doesn't feel connected to our soon-to-be-former church. There are many reasons and you can probably guess them. Basically, the kids her age aren't as nice as their parents. There's even the bully from school that I could write about at length, but I won't.

So, we have found a better place for her. A church where the kids are welcoming and she's made friends. She's even become best friends with the pastor's daughter (actually, her friend is the daughter of TWO Presbyterian ministers -- her mother and father. A double PK -- preacher's kid). We have spent the summer going there, and it's clearly where we are supposed to be. Lily even cares what she looks like when she gets dressed for church, and will go to youth events without being beaten, or at least not being beaten hard. (Just kidding.)

I long for our home church, for the place I never wanted to leave. But I can see already how God is at work in this new place. Maybe if I'll get over my despair about changing, he'll even find a way to use me there.

How to tell twins apart

How do you tell twins apart? Help me!

I have cousins who are twins. Two sets of cousins who are twins. I doubt that my aunt could tell her sons apart; they were that alike. The other twins I could tell who was who but could never remember which name went with which one, because that was the era when twins were dressed alike and had twin names.

Now I've got nephews who are twins and they are easy to tell apart. They don't look alike and their names aren't twin names. Thank you, thank you to my brother and sister-in-law for making things easy.

But here's the problem and I need your help. Lily is great friends with a set of twins who are absolutely identical. One had a spot on her nose that helped for a while, but the darn thing went away. When they come over, I try to associate the colors they are wearing with their names. Then they put on their bathing suits and the jig is up. I think I've quit calling them by name, which isn't fair or nice.

But! What do I do? My daughter says one's face is rounder than the other. I can't tell.

Any strategies for telling twins apart so I can treat these nice girls right? (I'm so embarrassed I've asked them so many times....)

Another day in the ER

I spent most of today in the ER with my father, who fell twice over the weekend and broke another rib. The assisted living place sent him to the ER because his hemoglobin is low and his blood pressure is even lower. Since he arrived by ambulance, he was put in a bed so our 8-hour wait was at least in a private room in the ER. (Sometimes we get rooms, sometimes we get curtained cubicles. I asked the ER people why that was and they couldn't tell me. The mysteries of the ER.)

So much sadness and literally broken people all around. The lady with the second broken hip across the hall. The young person with heart trouble. Those people being trolleyed up and down the hall. So many naked great big jostling bellies! Gosh. Great inspiration to eat healthy, exercise and enjoy every day.

I tried to think of things to be grateful for while I was in there. I tried to be grateful that we have several nice ERs (and hospitals) in our city. I tried to be grateful that my parents have lived to be 95 and enjoyed really good health up until recently. I tried to be grateful that he finally got a room. I tried to be grateful that I got to the hospital cafeteria 15 minutes before it closed.

I tried to read. I tried to write. I tried to be cheerful and bolster my father. Sometimes the ER just weighs too heavily. That was today.

They finally admitted him, after 8 hours, for blood transfusions and pain meds. As his doctor said, in his condition with his problems, he could legitimately be admitted to the hospital any day of the week.

My father and I talked about his garden, his plans for next spring, and how he can't wait to eat the asparagus he planted. It will finally be ready for harvest next spring. He is planting blueberry bushes on a hill that I will inherit. He has a list of things he needs to do, and he hasn't checked all the items off. He never will.

That list keeps him going. He can hardly walk. He has lost 55 lbs. He has to carry oxygen with him and take frequent naps. But his garden and his plans give him a reason to live. Hospice recently dropped him because he no longer qualifies. He wasn't supposed to live until last month. He's putting in his fall vegetable crop now (he supervises a man he has hired.) But he shouldn't be out in that heat.

Today was bittersweet. My father has lived a good life and is still sharp and funny. I am grateful that today I was actually a comfort and a help to the man who has given me so much. And I am grateful that Lily and Paul had a great father-daughter afternoon in my absence. They went to church and lunch, then came home and ordered an indoor bunny cage for refuge for when the weather is too hot. They got to go swimming and even cleaned up around the barn.

Life is good. But eventually, life does end.