Watchin' basketball

Why, you ask?

Because that's what was playing today at SpeeDee while I was waiting for my car to have its oil changed.

Another diversion was listening to a gal at the counter trying to figure out why her car service/repair/whatever cost more than "Jose" had told her it would. It's called "sales tax," honey!

And now my car's all happy.

* * *

My mom's in a care center now -- she was beyond furious, but it's just not possible to give her adequate care at home. She convinced my dad to spend the first night with her -- in a chair.

Last I heard, she's beginning to be okay with the whole thing. Being in a private room helps, I'm sure. I'm planning to go down again Mother's Day weekend, and so is Lizzie.

Just like Poot

I was awakened at 5:30 this morning by the sound of my mother murmuring quietly, over and over and over, "Help me. Please help me." And my dad asking, "Do you want water?" "Do you want the bathroom?" "What do you want?" Over and over and over.

It reminded me of when Cat was little and her only sentence was "Hep me, Mama!" and we turned it into a parody of the Beach Boys' song, "Help me, Rhonda."

My mom's language skills are slipping away. Last night I heard her tell my dad that her pants were very, very afraid.

State of confusion

I'm at my sister's again, visiting my folks.

Between the pain and the medication, my mother's enormously confused. When I first arrived yesterday evening, she worried that I might be missing classes. I assured her I wasn't.

In saying something about me and the dog to my father, she referred to us as "he" and "him" -- which neither of us is.

My dad mentioned that he'd like to have his pick-up moved up to my house and suggested maybe Lizzie and Jerm could come down with me some weekend and drive it back. I mentioned that Alex can drive a stick shift, so maybe I could recruit her. My mother's eyes went wide with shock and said, "But she's too young to drive!" Alex will be twenty-four next month.

This morning she asked me if we'd all come down for the reunion and if that's what my cup said. My cup had "Colorado" printed on it.

At one point my dad came in with his cup of coffee and my mom said, "You shouldn't be drinking coffee, either of you! It's bad for you!" Wait ... she's right ....

Disturbing Dream

For some reason, I was at my parent's house in the den having an accordion lesson - with my current teacher, not the one I had as a child. I was having a lot of trouble getting my hands to find the right keys, and we were both very frustrated. Then my teacher and accordion vanished, and my dad, mother and brother were there.

Some of my folks rendezvous friends were in the back yard (in full costume, some with their horses!) and were starting to come into the house. My dad pointed out how much one of them looked like Chooch. My brother was also amazed at the resemblance. When I saw the man it was true. He looked much like a young Chooch, in his early 20s.

I felt panicky, like I was going to suffocate and start crying if I didn't get out of the room, and I didn't want anyone to see how I was feeling.

My mom left, too, but as she was leaving, she told my dad to make sure to get the Bob Hope Memorial something-or-other from them. I had the sense that it was some sort of book or something similar. My dad didn't hear her, and my brother was trying to get his attention to tell him. By then, the friends were back in the yard and getting on their horses, and, when he heard, my dad, who was standing at the glass door watching his friends, just shook his head with his back to my brother, clearly communicating that it was too late.

I realized my mom shouldn't be alone in her bedroom (strangely enough, it was located where my brother's old room is), because she can't get around by herself or walk. I ran in to help her, but she looked very strange. Almost like some sort of TV alien. Shriveled and shiny.

She was angry that I wasn't my dad and I was trying to find out which side of the bed was hers. She completed ignored me and kept asking about my dad. I tried to tell her who I was, over and over and over: "I'm Charlotte! You're my Mommy!", but then she pulled back her fist to punch me. I managed to protect myself as she tried again and again, and kept trying to get her to understand who I was. Suddenly she had a pencil in her hand and was trying to stab me.

I awoke.

Oh, dear!

I got a really, really sweet message on my cell phone last night from my mother, wishing me a happy birthday.

Unfortunately, yesterday's my younger sister's birthday, not mine!

So, I did what any good big sister would have done. I called my sister (ended up leaving her a message) and told her that the good news was my mother had called to wish her a happy birthday, and the bad news was she had dialed my number by mistake.

Guess this means I get to be my sister's age, now! Cool!

I don't think my sister ever reads my blog, but just in case ... I'll resist my urge to announce her age to everybody on earth.

My dad just can't win...

My mom was talking earlier today about how she wants to weigh herself because she's been trying to gain weight and is wondering how she's doing. Not too longer after that, my dad was helping her up to her walker and said to her, "You're getting heavier!"

So ... being female ... my mom put on her very best hurt face and hurt voice and said, "I guess I'll just stop eating, then!"

Which brings us around to the best answer to the question "Do I look fat?":

"Do I look stupid?"

Wonderful evening!

I had a terrific time yesterday evening getting together with some of my high school classmates. It was great having time to chat and catch up on what's going on in everyone's life. I'm looking forward to the next event -- beach party, this summer! (note to self: increase gym time)

My mom is still holding on. She was recently diagnosed with Parkinson's, in addition to the other zillion things she's struggling with. I tease her that she gets half her calories from pills! It does seem as though she takes one step forward, then two steps back. She and my dad will never be able to live alone again -- she needs more care than he can handle by himself.

I had a chance to check on my folks' house. I started looking at it with an eye to selling. It'll just have go "as is." It needs way too much work. The next step will be convincing my dad it's time. Somehow I've got to make him think it's his idea...