It was too long.
My mother was a micro manager, this has not changed. She used to re-make the bed after I made it.
I hate that. (Really, who does well under that management style? No one I know.)
I asked her to sit in her [old] chair while I moved things, but she couldn't be still. Wanted to help by putting things back on the dresser I wasn't done moving or standing in the way or picking up tiny pieces of thread off the floor.
Finally after she told me for the fourth time, with considerable glee I might add, that I was going to hurt myself, I asked her to go out to the main living room. Then I could think and talk to myself and found an arrangement that worked. The coffee table is now the TV stand and the TV stand is a donation.
When she came back fifteen minutes later, she was teary eyed and had Harold, who lives across the hall, in tow. I was informed that he is a nice man. Sitting on the seat of his walker was a plate and cup, the cup got emptied in Mom's trash, then he announced he was finished. Mom gave him a hug and Harold went on his way.
She cried a little.
Was she upset her furniture was moved? I don't know.
A knock on the door - Harold was back to ask if we had a key to his room. Meanwhile Mom seemed to have forgotten the sequence of events needed to use the toilet and was milling around in confusion crying.
I put her in the bathroom and scooted down the hall to find someone with a key for Harold.
Had to tell her to wash her hands, she said she did, and she didn't. So, I had to get things going (becoming a micro manager myself - ugh!). Then she dried her hands with a used Kleenex and when I used another Kleenex to throw that one away, she pulled them both out of the garbage - so we had to do everything all over. Yes, I am becoming a germaphobe. So?
By this time, I was frustrated and cranky. Mostly because this is not the first time her confusion about bathroom procedure has flared up. I worry Depends are in her near future.
After all that fun on an empty stomach, I was hungry. We went to Bob Evans - where, according to her, she's never been before!
"Bob - how did you get here?!"
She had meatloaf and mashed potatoes. And even though the bubbling lava hot potatoes burned her mouth every bite - she did not remember to blow on the next bite to cool it off.
Here's one area she has changed.
As children, going out to dinner was a double-edged sword of fun and the tenth circle of hell. Because my parents thought nothing of sitting around after dinner for hours, just talking! Oh the humanity.
Talking about boring stuff (i.e., not us)!! Having a third cup of coffee!!! Oh gahhh, another cigarette!!!!
I swear they stayed longer just to torture us.
Now, she is up and heading for the door the second she's done eating.
Afterward I ran into Home Depot for a Sharpie for writing her name in her clothes. Hopefully that will help stop the traveling. Then back to CB for the writing. She hovered and moved clothes from the done pile back into the not done pile. Then hung them from her arm when asked if she could hang them in the closet. Then she got mad when I asked her to sit down because her back seemed to be hurting.
My sense of humor (and patience) was done run out by then.
I was back over there this morning at 8:30 for the chair installation.
She still thinks I got one just like it.
|Mom, far left with Coke - Dad far right.|