The Circle of Life Can Bite Me

With all the unrelenting SAD of losing my dad last fall, the fact that my mom has advanced Alzheimer's has kind of flown under the radar.  We moved her from south Texas to Ginormousville where she would be close to Sister L.  She had a series of small strokes and ended up in the hospital.  Disappointingly, her condition deteriorated to where she could no longer live in an assisted living situation and we* found her a nursing home specializing in dementia care.

This seemed to be a much better fit for her care than assisted living.  They took care of all the less glamorous portions of patient care at no extra charge and we no longer had to have the round the clock sitters to prevent injury from falls.  As an added bonus, her new home was right around the block from Sister L, so she has been able to check in on her all the time.

For a (short) while, all seemed to be well.  Was she was moving around less?  Maybe... well, yes.  Was she was talking/babbling less?  Okay, also yes.  Had her appetite had decreased?  Possibly.  Again, yes. 

Maybe all wasn't well. 

The reports this week have not been good.  She has lost all interest in eating.  She hasn't taken anything orally since Sister L coaxed some apple juice into her over the weekend.  She has a DNR, so feeding tubes are out of the question - and prolonging her life in this condition would not be a kindness. 

So maybe it is her time.  She would HATE being in the state she is in.  She had a lovely life.  Was married 50 years.  Raised three daughters.  Blah, blah, blabity suck, suck, suckage.  I hate this.

In theory, I am prepared for her loss in a way that I was not prepared for my dad's sudden and somewhat unexpected death.  Mom left the building long ago.  What remains is just a shell.  But now that her time is upon me, I am not prepared at all.

*By 'we' I mean Sister L.  She did all of the hard work of finding nice places for mom to live.  For this, her sisters are eternally grateful.


Do Not See

T's awesome parents came into town tonight specifically so T and I could have a date night.  (I lucked out in the in-law department, huh?)  Cutting edge trend setters that we are, we decided to go to dinner and a movie.  It was T's turn to choose the move.  He chose Your Highness.

Worst. movie. ever.

I think I may have actually lost I.Q. points for having seen this movie.  I am wishing I could Clorox my brain.  I feel kind of dirty.  It was unbelievably, cringingly, almost cartoonishly bad.  We thought that the total cheese-fest at the beginning of the movie was just to set the scene.  Nope.  It was the whole movie.

T figured that since Natalie Portman was in it, the movie had to be decent.  He loves her.  I mean, the woman has an Oscar, right?  After this movie, she might have to give it back. 

There was so much superfluous swearing that even my potty-mouthed-sailor of a husband thought it was excessive.  Pretty much every scene had some kind of penis reference in it.  Most of it with a guy/guy twist.  Danny McBride seemed to be playing a character written for Jack Black - and doing it poorly.  I am amazed that he was able to keep a straight face.  All in all, it felt like the film was edited by a bunch of pimply-faced, hormonal junior high school boys.

The only thing that kept us in our seats was the $9.50 each we had blown on tickets.

On the up side, Grandma took care of bedtime and I got to spend a little (low) quality time with the hubs.  That was worth the price of admission!


Parenting Fail Times Two

And now for the eleventy-billionth installment on my parenting inadequacies:

Fail 1 - Somehow I have turned into the crazy, over-scheduling parent I swore I would never be.  I decided that two activities per week outside of school was plenty.  Then swimming lessons started.

That's not an activity, I think to myself.  It's water safety!  Sign 'em up!  (Why  I, a swim instructor, need swim lessons for my kids in an entirely different post.)  So I signed them both up for lessons.

Then soccer season happened.  The practices were scheduled for Tuesdays and Thursdays - the same days as swimming lessons.  Blah.  For the first time ever, I wasn't going to be able to cover the kids' schedules on my own.  Three out of four weeks per month this is no big deal.  T will grumble, but step up and do half of the ferrying.  My awesome sister-wives friends have stepped up to help me during the week he is working nights. 

During March, Z was sick for the first week of lessons, so I postponed her lessons until April.  Tuesday was Z's first day for swim lessons.  Soccer practice is from \
6:15 to 7:00.  Swim lessons start at 7:10 across town.  I figured we'd leave practice at 6:50 and make it easily.  No sweat, right?

Um, wrong.

The moms on our new team are big fun.  I was taking shirt orders and chitty-chatting and completely lost track of time.  By the time I checked my watch, it was 7:15.  Holy cow!  I jumped up, grabbed our stuff and ran(!) to the car.  I made poor Z change into her swimsuit in the car.  A difficult feat with a seat belt on!

By the time we got to the Y and fought the crazy parking, it was 7:33.  As we skidded into the pool area the little teen-aged head lifeguard looked a me and said, "Really?"  Z was unphased.  She jumped in for the last five minutes of class and was happy as a clam.  When class was over the teacher said, very kindly, "You do know when class starts, right?"

I hung my head and mumbled something about scrimmages and doing better next time.

Nothing like teenaged disdain to make you feel like a stellar parent!

Fail 2 - Chica got a sewing machine recently and we have been making coordinating dresses for the girls.  I just finished the second one and Z was super excited to wear it to school.  When she put it on, I noticed that the arm holes seemed a little big.  She's in kindergarten, I think to myself.  How big a deal could it be?

At 11:15 I get a call from the school.  "Mrs. C?  Z's dress doesn't meet the dress code.  You need to bring her a t-shirt to wear under it or a change of clothes."