September 22, 2002
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I woke up two hours early, which is not my favorite way to start the day. I guess it must have been an omen. Mom was doing her ‘my eyes are closed, go away’ routine. I fixed her pancakes and coffee and called her to breakfast every few minutes while I watched Meet the Press. I went to church last Sunday by myself because she wouldn’t get up. I really hate that for two reasons:
1. Church is one of the few activities Mom actually enjoys. So.... I pulled the covers off her and told her it was time for breakfast. She grabbed the covers and started cussing at me, but I wouldn’t let go. This always gets her up, although she is mad as a hornet once she’s up. She commenced trying to kick me and even slid her body down the bed to aid in making contact. I easily side-stepped her advance and smiled calmly. “I made you pancakes. Mmmm!” Snarl, hiss, growl, “@#$% *&$#” she replied. Then she was up. I evaded her as she came at me until she went into the kitchen and stuck her hand in the middle of the syrup and started stuffing pancakes into her mouth. Then she grabbed the plate and tried to hide it in the clothes closet. I intercepted her and told her to leave the plate on the table so we wouldn’t get the clothes sticky with syrup. This only further enraged her. I snagged a brush from the bathroom to run it through her hair. She grabbed onto my arm and threw it away from her. In an attempt to soothe her, I brought her coffee and said, “Here’s your coffee, Mom. Are you thirsty?” She took it from me and dumped it onto the counter, all over a stack of papers (bills and the like) and it ran onto the floor. “There’s your coffee.” she says hatefully. I look at the ruined papers and the mess and can contain myself no longer. “I hate you!” I scream at her. Chris comes into the room and I explode, “Look what she did! She just poured that whole cup of coffee out.” I left the mess and went upstairs to my room and began to cry and get ready for church. Chris cleaned up the mess. Mom was still being contrary when I went back down, but Chris managed to get her to put her shoes on and we left for church. On the way out I notice a huge wet spot on the carpet where Mom peed in the floor once again last night. I am so tired of cleaning up pee!! We get to church and Chris starts complaining because the parking lot is across the street from the church. “This is too far to walk with Grandma. It’s like a half mile!” he exaggerates. “It’s fine, she does fine.” I reply. Grumble, grumble, grumble. “I can’t wait til I move out!” Chris dreams. This is because I MAKE him go to church and he longs for the day he won’t have to hear the Word of God spoken, I suppose. As soon as the singing starts, Mom is happy. She loves hymns. I notice she has food slopped all down the front of her blouse. Oh no. Now I feel totally embarrassed and uncomfortable. They have a few minutes when everyone goes around to greet one another and I just wanted to crawl under a rock. I try to focus on the sermon, but mostly I’m thinking of getting out of there so I can clean Mom off. Finally church ends and we get in the car. Mom calls me a jack ass while I buckle her seat belt. Somehow the subject of expired milk comes up and Chris starts in on me about one of his friends finding milk with an expired date on it in our refrigerator. We end up arguing the entire way home. At this point I just want to fix Mom lunch and hide in my room, which is precisely what I do. After a few minutes Chris comes in and apologizes and gives me a nice long hug. “I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.” We talked and I admitted I was already mad and he didn’t ruin my day. Then he left to go run-around with his friends. A few minutes later - *ring ring* It’s Josh. “Happy Birthday, Mom! Are you having a good day so far?” he asks cheerily. Aaarrggg. Calgon, take me away.. Proverbs 31:6 Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts.
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