Boxing Day

And how the Aged Parent and I would love to box each others' ears. Mom said ' for 26 years, I fixed dinner and nobody ever had a problem with it, but your sister and I can't agree about anything". Never mind the fact I spent hours on my feet preparing and cooking Christmas Dinner, then washed all the dishes from the family feast. No, I am a bad daughter because I kept the meals low in salt, and did not fix gravy.

If I were a better Christian, I'd try to see it from her point of view. She's stuck in a wheelchair--by her own choice, but that is for another post called 'Lack of Exercise". Mom spent a good part of the year either in hospital or rehab. She knows her body is not in good shape, and at 84, she's fairly sharp, but does get confused when she is tired.

OK--but why is she being such a grouch today. We had such a good time yesterday. It's not all that suprising because Mom spent the better part of Christmas being annoyed at her Grandaughter, who stopped by for a short visit, then went down to Delaware with her boyfriend. All in all, we had a very good time, and I thought Mom was comfortable with the world and her family.

Wrong wrong wrong. She's is a pilly mood. I suggested she change her adult diaper, and she told me 'you said the pants were clean and I could wear them:. I pointed out that was several hours ago, and did she want a change now? The Aged Parent has no sense of smell--she lost it in childhood, so she is blissifully unaware of the strong odors that waft from a soiled or wet Depends.

It's just the negativity and moodiness that make me annoyed

Our Elizabeth

I wish I could create a vivid, living picture of my Mom. She is a cross between Princess Grace and Gracie Allen. The Serene Highness, who may lose her cool, and say something completely outrageous. I love Mom's tales of newlywed life with my Dad. Their first apartment was on Fourth Avenue, a block from Dad's store. It was a railroad flat, with plenty of large roaches. The floors were wooden, with a pattern carpet in the living room. Mom always waited for the roaches to crawl on the carpet, then she would squash them with one of his or her college text books. It was Dad's job to dispose of the corpses.

A few years later, when we lived on 91st Street, Mom had one of her misadventures. She had put us 4 girls to bed, then went down to the basement to do laundry, while Dad fell asleep on the living room sofa. I guess the drier was running a bit slow, so Mom got the idea of laying on the basement floor, and taking the drier pipe off, so she could remove extra lint. Naturally, her arm became stuck in the pipe, and there Mom was, calling for help, while fretting that one of the water bugs would come a crawling. ( There were two in our cellar, and my Dad named them 'Felix' and "Francine"). Anyhow, Dad finally heard her cries, came down but couldn't get her arm out--so he called our next door neighbor, Mr. Navarro, who suggested they squirt Mom's arm with baby oil--which made it supple enough to move.

When we were teenagers, we took a winter break vacation down in St. Maarten. It was 1973, and the island was still fairly undeveloped. At the motel, unit, Mom had the bright idea of putting her evening dress, a black and white shift dress, on the deck railing, to air it. So, she begins to get dressed, and realized that she was not alone--a gekko lizard had crawled into the dress and perched on her arm. Meanwhile, my younger Sister, Cathy, and I, had dressed, and came into the room to get soda. Mom screams out "Jesus, Mary and Joseph; it's on me, get it off' while we girls are doubled over, helplessly laughing. My Dad shot us a look, and then bit the side of his mouth so he wouldn't laugh--just repeated in a soothing tone 'it's all right". As he caught the lizard and headed to the outdoor deck, Mom called out 'Don't hurt it, Bob. Just get rid of it".

Mom was, and is amazing, and I love her very much.

Resolutions

Oh, God I am a terrible person, but Mom's singing drives me nuts. It is as though she has to dominate her setting by song. I wonder if the Von Trapp family really enjoyed singing, or did Maria force it upon them? Interesting idea, controlling your offspring with grace notes, three quarter time or the dotted punctum.

Why do I hate the singing? Mom has a good voice--she wanted to be a professional singer, but obeyed her father who told her only loose women went into show business. It's hard for me to understand that concept: does that mean the seemingly virginal Doris Day was a hoochie Momma? No, I think my Irish American grandfather had a very stereotyped view of women, and forced his view upon Mom. As an obedient daughter, she went to graduate school and became a speech teacher, married, and raised 4 daughters.

On long car trips, Mom always sang because " I don't like the silence". As I got older, this annoyed me because I enjoyed the silence. When you lived with two older sisters, and one younger, silence was a rare event, and I treasured it. But, the silence of my thoughts would be shattered by a song: 'The Wild Goose Song" ( sung with Yiddish accent, no less, or as Prince Charles would say 'thank you very much) or "Climb Ev'ry Mountain".

If I wasn't thinking, or fantasizing, I was playing my own songs in my head--and they often got drowned out by Mom's. Like many daughters, I felt she was invading my inner dreams, and 'killing them softly with her song'. Mom has no idea of how I really felt--a case of 'do I ever get to sing my song"? She's always defended herself by saying " I sing because I'm happy. don't you want me to be happy?". My silent rebuttal would be 'how can you achieve happiness by driving the rest of the family insane?"

Anyhow, the first resolution is to use the Season of Advent as a time to find my own voice.