Sugar

The past weekend was productive, relaxing, creative and just downright enjoyable.  I finished work decorating my guest room.  I chose papers for my latest storybook and completed four illustrations from simple to complicated.  I had far too much coffee and indulged in donuts and candy and even put sugar in my coffee.  What has this to do with my mother?  Sugar.  I found myself falling asleep on the sofa at 7:00PM. I slept in well past the 6:30 alarm.  It wasn't because of the activities of the weekend.  It was because of the sugar level drop in the evening.  I must say that it's an interesting way to get some much needed rest but the three and a half pounds I gained in two days was not a fair exchange.

Again.  What does this have to do with my tiny, 113 pound mother?  Mom loved sweets.  We all do but, except for Rose Marie, we all pay the price of exhaustion and weight gain.  She must have metabolized it differently.  Oh sure, at some point in her life she gained a little weight and tipped the scales at maybe 140 pounds, but sugar was never an issue.

In the beginning of my stay with mom she would wake up when she smelled the coffee, come and and sit down at her bistro table, examine the selection of cookies I had placed on her Rosewood china plate and point to her coffee cup. Mom wasn't a morning person.  I always waited for her to come to the table before I poured her coffee so it would be warm.  The table was set with the half and half and sugar bowl, a Christian Dior china cup filled with magnesium dissolved in apple sauce, a juice glass filled with Strawberry Sunny Delight into which a large potassium pill had been dissolved and a two inch ramikin with six pills. After she had her first sip of coffee and a bit of a meringue or butter cookie she would speak. Daddy was a morning person.  I am a morning person.  Mom just got up early out of habit and to take her pills but her head was still reclined on the soft warm pillow of her bed.

When her pills were taken and the last of the sauce concoction swallowed she had another cup of coffee and a cookie or three.  Then she went back to bed until breakfast was served at 9:30.  Over time and especially the last year of her life, I would go into her room, hug her gently and whisper into her ear that coffee was ready. Sometimes she would want coffee and pills in bed but most mornings she put on her slippers and come out to join me in the kitchen.  I had coffee. Without sugar. And two butter cookies. 

Mom's doctor had said time and again "Whatever you're doing, just keep doing it.  She's doing fine.  If she wants chocolate and cookies there's not reason she shouldn't have them." So I kept on doing what I was doing. 

Breakfast was always healthy.  The only sugar was in the form of berries unless I made my version of Swedish pancakes.  But even the pancakes were mostly eggs with a dash of flour and sugar.  After breakfast she would do whatever pleased her. Sometimes after breakfast mom would have a little milk in a juice glass with a spoon of lingonberry preserves.  I wouldn't. 

Lunch too just simple.  Rye crisp with butter and cold cuts or boiled eggs followed by coffee and two cookies or a little mik in a juice glass with a spoon of lingonberry preserves.  I wouldn't have dessert.
After dinner we had coffee and dessert. Dessert could be pound cake with whipped cream and berries or a warm apple turnover or cookies but usually it was a little milk in a juice glass with a spoon of lingonberry preserves.  That was mom's favorite after dinner dessert.   If we had a special dessert I would have some as well but I always made sure I left room. Otherwise I would have a butter cookie.

In between the meals, mom would have a bite of chocolate. Or some chips. So would I.   Did I mention that she weighed 113 pounds and had normal sugar levels?  My sugar levels were normal as well but I always weighed 165 pounds. 

Oh and bedtime.  When mom was ready to go to bed, not to sleep, but to bed, I would bring her a half a juice glass of Strawberry Sunny Delight or milk with her ramikan of pills and a white Christian D'or china saucer with three or four cookies.  If possible there was a meringue or two, butter cookies and sugar cookies.  Mom would teasingly examine the cookies to make sure there were enough and kiss me goodnight.  I didn't have bedtime cookies or chips or chocolate.

On grocery shopping days we would bring home a pastry or a donut for each of us. Later, when mom stopped coming along, I would bring home a sweet treat for us to have with coffee. 

Before I went to take care of my mother, to be her body servant and cook, mom become ill. Her magnesium and potassium levels had dropped and it was decided that she could no longer live alone.  The cause was a combination of one of the pills she had long taken for high blood pressure and her diet.  Mom was eating far too much starch and too little protein.  She ate alone in her apartment while every one was at work.  Cookies and fruit and buttered bread.  Mom would make a porkchop and not finish it but would have no trouble have the potatoes and gravy.  All that sugar does a have downside, even for mom.

I have always envied her sugar metabolism and I am happy that she was able to eat as she wished.  Her last meal was a soft butter cookie and milk. 

A New Year

Even though I've not been posting to my blog regularly, I have been thinking about my mom and the tiny march of years we spent in close quarters at the end of her life.  Not long ago I lost a dear friend.  Axle.  A two year old bundle of lab, pitbull and who knows what else.  In just a couple of months he had become a buddy.  We played and walked and sometimes, though not often, sat and took in the smells, smoke in the distance; dust rising from the road; pine trees. The Monday after this past Thanksgiving, just before dawn, he ran under a passing car and died.

When my mom was a little girl she a had dog named Don.  He was big she said.  He looked like a Saint Bernard and she used lay on him, almost ride on him.  He was gentle with her.  One day Don ran into the street and was run over by the wheels of a horse drawn wagon. 

But I remember other stories she told me about her childhood.  She grew up in a town called Kavlinge in Southern Sweden.  She was a city girl but it was the early 20th century so there was a lot of the country life still going on in town.  Her mom used to milk a cow that belonged to a man in town.  I guess the arrangement was like picking fruit is nowadays except that maybe she would pay a small fee or do some extra milking so she could take home her share of the milk.  Mom was the youngest so she would go along, but she didn't milk the cow.  She played and watched and then they would walk home.

Mom was smart and athletic.  "I always got Big As in gym."  In Sweden there are little as and big As in the grading system.  Big As of course are the best.
"I could walk on the beams and jump and run better than anyone.  I was good at reading too.  My sister Carla wasn't so good at reading even though she was two years older than me. I helped her and she learned."

When mom and I shared coffee and cookies in the afternoon, she would often share stories about her early life.  Some were new and some I had heard before and some of those not quite as I had remembered.  So it goes with retelling tales, true or not.  Mom described herself as being spoiled.  "I was so bad," she began.  "Once my daddy spanked me and I wouldn't speak to him for a week.  It was just one spank on my bottom for not listening to my mommy and he didn't want to do it but he had to.  It didn't even really hurt but I was so mad.  At night I used to sleep with daddy and Carla used to sleep with mommy but I went to bed with mommy instead and Carla had to sleep with daddy."

Mommy grinned.  "Joanie, I was so mean.  I wouldn't forgive him until he said he was sorry for spanking me. I was so bad but he was happy it was over and it was like nothing."

Even in childhood my mother was the center of her universe.  A tiny sun around whom all others revolved.  I don't she ever saw it like that or even thought about it for that matter. Mom just knew she was special.

Lilies

There's an orange flower growing at the base of a tall pine tree on the property where the house I rent is located.  It's not wild.  It didn't just spring forth.  Someone planted it. A lily I think.  Lilies make me think of mom.  She carried calla lilies on her wedding day.  Long stems.  She wore a tiara and a long blue dress with mutton chop sleeves and a matching shawl.  Daddy wore a tuxedo.  They looked like movie stars. 

Her sister Carla and her husband Per stood as their witnesses.  It was March 2, 1940.  The wedding was at her parents house and the minister came to perform the ceremony.  Although my grandmother was a cook, my father hired someone so prepare the food so that she would be free to enjoy the celebration.  In Sweden, the groom carries the financial responsibility of the wedding. 

Of course, I wasn't there but I can see it and hear it as I write these words.  Parents, sibblings, cousins crowded into the sitting room to bare witness to the joining of these two young people.  He was 24 and she was 23. The cheers and toasts and the smorgasbord.  The smells of pork and herring and cardamon and freshly baked cakes; the scent of brandy and whisky; people moving from kitchen to dining room to living room catching up, making jokes, eating and drinking and celebrating the day. 

Mom said they went to the photographer's studio after the ceremony to sit for formal portraits.  There was so much drinking going on that daddy had to run out for more.  It was a great wedding, a good party, a beginning.

Saturday, August 02, 2008 8:53 AM

Rose Marie sent lilies to mom. Real pretty. Just because. Mom now has flowers everywhere. Rose knows I bring home fresh cut flowers for mom every week because she enjoys them. The white lillies are sitting in the middle of the dining room table now.

Saturday, August 30, 2008
It was a great wedding. Bride and groom were perfection. They looked so elegant, so polished, he in his tux and she in her white satin strapless gown.  Dave died his hair blonde and Maraka has pink streaks added to her coif.  Mom managed well, moving from one event to the next to make it all the way through her special dessert. Maraka had a special strawberry short cake made for mom since she knew she wouldn't enjoy the wedding cake's flavors. I believe now that mom is glad she went.

Pre-wedding was hectic but fun as I bonded with the bridesmaids who could be my daughters in a chronological sort of way. The wedding was late by about 20 minutes because guests were still coming in. Mom and Rose were in the front row on the right and I don't think she knew it was me up there standing in attendance to the bride. Jean and Bob presented the bride and sat on the left. Maraka and Dave read their own vows and did what's called a rose ceremony.

Photos taken. Back to the bridal suite. Drinks (water for me) and lots and lots of h'ordeuves. Too many. On to the reception for dinner and dancing. I danced, group dancing.  It was a party and the dj went for 5 hours straight which is why he is the top dj in Hudson Valley. He and his partner go on all night.

Maraka presents the special dessert to her grandmother.

Videographers and photographers moving in surrounding the couple and getting the guests. The kids and the grownups dancing to the oldies side by side.

I have a hang over from too much food and the wild partying.  It was 11:30 when I took Mom up to our room. She was good. "Maraka is so beautiful," she said."It was a nice wedding. So many people came."
We talked about the other guests, cousins of Bobby who she knew and old friends of Jean's who has moved away. "The cake was good.  It was nice for Maraka to think of me. I liked that."

I told mom how proud I was of her, staying as long as she did, and that I was glad she did. 

I slept with her allowing Rose a reward of a good bed to herself. Mom liked that.  "If I wake up I won't feel like I'm in a strange place." she said. The older she gets the more like a child she becomes.

Otherworldly Job Assistance

Most of July is come and gone.  Settling in to my new home; finding out what I need as I go.  No TV yet.  Well I have a television but no connection.  I just don't feel up to the decision.  Movies and the Internet are fine.  No news.  No politics. I don't miss all that political chatter - all talk and no substance. It's like I live in another dimension of time and space.  Sometimes.

I like my job.  I like the people. I like the place. I'm getting into more regular sleep patterns which is good.  I was afraid I'd be too tired to do anything after work but working on my books is easy.  It's the best of both worlds.  A career and an avocation. Of course not taking care of any one after work makes a difference.  I was glad to help my folks and my friends-in-need but I'm grateful for this blessing of extra time. Sometimes I look around and wonder what I'm forgetting to do. 

Mom and I talked about what I would do when she passed away.  She knew I had to get a job.  I'm just glad it wasn't at one of the *marts.  It took some time but the universe had a lot of work to do to create my new position.  She must have started working on it right away.  Setting things in motion to create a job opening in a place where I would have a friend and feel comfortable.  There was a lot to set in motion- like a Rube Goldberg puzzle-to make the marbles roll and clink and bounce in just the right way, to land in just the right places.  Never underestimate the power of connections on the "other side".

Monday, July 07, 2008 10:59 AM
It's so easy for my mother to screw up my mood. Here I am working on a book, feeling good about all the positive possibilities and she says "You can get a job like Jean has."
"No.I can't. I have to stay home with you."
"No but when I die."
"When you die I'll be too old to get a job because I won't be working for so long." I stopped to think about it. "In 8 years I'll be 66. I won't make enough in Social Security so I'll have to work until I die."
"But Jean got a job.”
"Jean is 55. I'll be 66."
"Well I could live another 7 years."
“Yes or more.” I reached around her and gave mom a hug. “I don't want to talk about this or when you're going to die. I don't know how old I'll be when I can work again."
"You should do something so you can make money at home."
"That's what I'm trying to do. It just doesn't happen over night."

Saturday, July 12, 2008
We went to Bonton to return some items and mom was moaning all the way in. Poor darling is just too tired. I sat her in a chair while I did the return. Then she wanted me to show her clothes while she sat and of course they were no good because she wants velvet pants (for the wedding) and it's July. So we left and went to Target to get my pills. I couldn't leave her in the car because she wouldn't leave the door closed with the a/c running so she had to come in with me. I got my pills while she waited with the wagons and then we had coffee and lemon pound cake at Starbucks. We enjoyed that and chatted about nothing in particular. It was a good day.

Monday, July 28, 2008
How pretty my mom is looking before she goes to bed. She even looks a little younger. She has a lovely glow about her. Even though she won't go out and about unless it's to the doctor once every three months she has decided she can live to be 100. That pleases me.

Celebrations all around!

As my friend and new boss, Dusty reminded, my birthday is coming up next week. I  got caught up in what I hope is the beginning of my last relocation for a few years and a new job and had forgotten. Three years ago, June was a month of celebrations both great and small. We held a bridal shower for my niece, Maraka, celebrated my birthday and Father's day, the birth of our non-paying tenant groundhog's twin pups, removal of some pills from mom's daily regimen and her pronouncement of my improved cooking skills.
I guess, looking back over any period of time, even in the midst of sadness or stress you can find moments like this. Moments for celebration or even a smile. I've tried to do that. To look back and see the beauty in the moment. The tiny and great joys. Sometimes I'm even able to do it when I'm in the middle of a maelstrom. Sometimes, of course, I can't. Sometimes I just want to wallow in a few moments of "poor me". But sometimes I am fortunate enough to recognize the moments as they happen. Like the groundhog pups and mom's compliments on my cooking.

June 01, 2008
I got mom all excited about going to the shower next Sunday. She doesn't like to go out but I gave her one of my sexy blouses to go with new blue skirt and we talked about the jewelry she would wear and that Jean was bringing over a special chair for her to sit in so she wouldn't get so tired and she had to show everyone how good she looks. I'll have to repeat this conversation on Sunday morning as well but I told her if she gets tired, I’d take her home. Now she's trying on other outfits. Vanity works.

June 04, 2008
Mom commended me on the clean sink. What she was really talking about, since we both clean the sink several times a day is that the drain board was empty of dishes. It’s the little things that catch the eye when you least expect it.

June 06, 2008
Great excitement here. Yesterday mom's slippers arrived. The only kind she can wear can only be gotten via mail order and they were out of stock so it was very exciting to receive them.

June 07, 2008
Bob found an ac unit for our kitchen window so now the space is comfortable in spite of just having cooked dinner. I even turned off the fans. My wicker chair has been decorated for tomorrow’s bridal shower and mom is in bathing for the event so that she wont' be rushed tomorrow.

Then a miracle happened. My mother searched through her closet and found long-black-lined chiffon and beaded dress that she never wore and bought for sale for $5.00 several years ago. It will be perfect for the wedding and I’ll look for a jacket to go with it.

June 09, 2008
It's my birthday.

The Bridal Shower was lovely. Good food, no silly games, surprise gifts every 5 minutes to whoever's gift was opened. Mom stayed all of 45 minutes. The room was warm and loud so she didn't want to be there. It all buzzed in her ears so she couldn’t hear. I took her home and Calvin was so happy. After all, he'd been alone almost an hour. Since it was so close to the restaurant, I went back and I left just before four to give mom her pills and, of course, Calvin was there to greet me.

June 11, 2008
I’m so proud. The eye of round was delicious and will be tomorrow as well. Mom is very proud that she has taught me so well.
“You are,” she said “the only one who can make a roast as good as me.”
“I know to buy the best cut of eye of round.” I said. “You taught me that too.”
“Just a little piece of onion and one carrot,” mom said. “So the gravy’s not so sweet. Mor (her mother) used to make her food too sweet. I liked it better the way Gunnar’s mor made it.”

Mormor used to cater on a limited basis and everyone raved about her cooking. Mom, like her cooking teacher and farmor (dad’s mom), didn’t like to cook with a lot of onion and only a little sugar unless of course it was pancakes or cake.


June 16, 2008
Yesterday we grilled for Father's Day.

Our fat groundhog was actually pregnant. She lives behind Bob's shed and yesterday we saw her and two babies so now we have a family living behind the shed.  Fawns have been in the backyard as well. I even managed a photo.

June 25, 2008
Mom did well at the doctor’s office. They flirted of course. Dr. Jacob and my mom. They’re shameless. It’s nice that her doctor delights in her visits. We go back in three months and in the meantime he said to keep up what we’re doing and she can have all her pills in the morning now. No more afternoon pills to make her sleepy. That made her happy. We stopped at the College Diner in New Paltz for dinner. I had shrimp and she had the stuffed flounder with a backed potato. We brought home the leftovers for tomorrows supper.

Memorial Day Weekend

Mom at Maraka's Wedding Shower

Sometimes, when someone is ill over a long course of time, we know that the process of death is begun. Sometimes not. I didn't see my dad's passing coming just two days after my parents wedding anniversary. We'd had a wonderful family celebration 56 years of marriage. In spite of Daddy's age, 80, we didn't see it coming. At least I didn't. He stood up to go to the kitchen and died.

When my mom suffered a stroke on Memorial Day Saturday two years ago, I didn't see it coming. Even then, in spite of her age, I expected her to recover. It was only a few days later at the hospital that I knew the process of my mother's passing had begun that Saturday morning. Within just a few days of her, return home with hospice assistance Mommy died. This Memorial Day like last years, I thought of her. I don't know if it will always be so but right now this reverent holiday is for me the anniversary of my mother's death even though her life force didn't leave until nearly three weeks later.

Reading over the emails from the year before I realized that our everyday life was filled with the simple acts of life, sharing meals, walking the dog, laundry and snippets of conversations of nothing in particular and family milestones. I don't know if these acts are the mortar or the bricks of life and I don't suppose it matters. Except for special occasions like weddings and graduations, it is only in retrospect that any day takes on a special meaning.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Memorial Day weekend is here already although a bit early. So goes it with the Monday holidays. NYC is opening the public pools and folks are stocking up on barbecue supplies.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Rose got off to the airport at 6:00AM with Jean and I walked Calvin. He went back upstairs when Jean got back. I made coffee for mom and we both went back to sleep. We slept until almost 11:00. Felt good. I made us a brunch of pancakes and coffee and now we're resting again.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

While the rest of the family had burgers and wings for Bob’s birthday dinner last night, Maraka had steak. There was ice cream cake for dessert. Mom came up for a visit and then went down. She just wasn’t up to a late supper. I brought a burger downstairs for her and then the ice cream cake. Then we all sat out on the deck. Calvin went nuts over the neighbor's cat hanging in front of Bob's motorcycle shed so Bob threw a rock to scare it and he went back home. Then the other neighbor's beagle pup got out up to the deck and he and Calvin sniffed noses.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

It's a rainy Saturday. I'm going to shop for a couple of shower gifts for Maraka from mom and me. Mom needs a new night light for the hall. The wedding shower is next week. I like to shop from registries for young couples. It's like making dreams come true.

Mom isn't feeling well today. Same thing as usual-upset tummy. Nothing wrong but I think she used the Lidoderm patch during the night and that always makes her tummy loose. She went back to bed; didn't even want a second cup of coffee. I'll bring her home a present and an ice cream sundae from DQ. That always makes her feel good. Calvin came for an early visit. His tummy is upset as well.

Dairy Queen

I saw a commercial for Dairy Queen a little while ago. It reminded me of Summer.  Up north DK is only open from May to October. In Santa Fe and Florida it's a year round thing. I remember stopping by DK in Newburg on the way home from Saturday shopping to pick up a sundae for mom. It just seems that everything reminds me of someone or something these days.  Getting old.  Lots of memories.  Mostly forgotten.  And forgetting.  That's part of getting old to.

05/07/2008
Rose is coming to visit on the 16th.  Mom’s worried because I have to have a CTscan. My lymph nodes are swollen. I wouldn’t have told her about it if the test hadn't been rescheduled. Now she’s afraid and worried about me and about who will take care of her if I’m sick.
I told her "I will take care of you mommy. You and Jean will take care of me."
"No.." she almost laughed.
"Yes. And Calvin will take care of all of us." I hugged her and she laughed.
The reason she agreed to move to NY in the first place was because I was stricken with Crohn's disease and couldn't take care of her the way she needed me to.

She's starting to forget that she took her pills pretty much as soon as she takes them. Jean is going to check her sugar today. There is a possibility that her Seroquel can cause diabetes and that could be causing accelerated memory loss and increased exhaustion. It's like a clinic around here.

May 14, 2008
Bunny rabbit on our patio. A young rabbit was on the patio this morning, sitting in the shade of the house licking his paws like a puppy I know.

The CTscan showed nothing, including swollen lymph nodes. The doctor said it's possible that it was strained muscles. Yes. Trying to communicate with my mom strained my throat muscles. Mom's relieved now. She can go back to treating me like a servant and blaming her pills and me for everything.

I typed up the menu for the wedding. Jean bought silver paper and pink paper.

May 16, 2008
It's raining and Jean took the kids to the hospital for Dave's surgery. His hernia is going to be put up for adoption.

After our respective showers, mom and I will clean up the abode in preparation for Rose's arrival. Of course, that’s silly since she will cover all the spare space with her suitcase and clothes so you can't see any floor anyway. An extra shoebox in this apartment makes the space look cramped.

May 17, 2008
It turned into a beautiful morning. Not at all what they predicted so I'm taking Rose to New Paltz. She's getting dressed and it’s nearly 11:00AM. Actually I'm getting hungry. Mom had coffee and pills at 7:30 and made her bed and watched some TV, came out at 9:00 when Rose came down asking  me frantically “Where is the coffee? Why didn’t you make coffee, Joan?” she asked. “It's 9.”
“You had the coffee at 7:30.”
“No” mom complained. “Where are my pills?”
“You took your pills at 7:30.” I said. “You can't have pills twice Poopy.”
“Oh.” Mom stopped. “That's right. I made my bed. Okay.”
“I'll make you more coffee now.”
“Okay.”
"And give you some meringue cookies."