Seth doesn't believe me, but if he could see me now, he would.
Anytime Seth leaves home, and I've been telling him this for years, I wait for his return on the steps outside our home, sobbing, waiting for him to return.
It's quite cold outside tonight. Probably about 28 degrees Fahrenheit. There's a crescent moon in the sky. Lily was concerned that it was falling on our ride home from Evie's (the babysitter) last night, but it seems to be sticking in place, thankfully. Fuzz is in the house screaming. Fuzz is Seth's cat. He's had her since he was around two years old (Lily's age now). She always howls when Seth is gone.
I am wearing my blue and white pajama bottoms, the fuzzy slippers Andrea and Andrew gave me for Christmas, and a pale yellow t-shirt that reads "I Rather Be in Rio". This t-shirt is a ready-made "Golden Boy". I love that you can purchase completely thin, worn-out t-shirts brand-new. (Boy, that's a lot of hyphens...is that correct???
My nose is cold!
I'm wrapped in Dana's Grandpa's blanket. It's not doing much against the cold. Sitting on the porch is awful. I can feel the cold cement easily through my jammies and blanket. I might have to sleep on the inside steps soon. That's what I used to do when we lived in Fairview Gardens. Remember, Seth?
Brrr...
I can't wait til Seth gets home. I wonder what he is doing now. Probably not reading my blog. But if you are, I love you and I'll see you tomorrow! Love, MOM.
P.S. Come home soon! It's freezing out here!
1.11.2008
Day 11. in which Alex and Dana attempt to watch a movie.
The past several years I have only participated peripherally in the outside universe. There are a lot of things that have occurred of which I have a vague sense, and of which I have not fully consumed. I also have a sense that I probably didn't miss much...
What I mean by this is that when you become a parent, you tend to become very aware time, or specifically, how very little time you have. So, you don't waste time in the same way you did Before Children.
Of course, time has not changed. But as a parent, you find yourself on a regimented schedule, much out of the sake of necessity and maintaining mental health. I remember a time in which I did not wear a watch. I wouldn't ask what time it was, but about what hour it was? Now I am scheduled down to the minute from the moment I roll off the air mattress to the moment I collapse into the air mattress.
Dana and I decided we would watch a movie after getting the kids into bed. At first, it seemed like everyone would cooperate. Grandpa can't ever make it past 8 p.m. His very ability to speak becomes a challenge by this hour of the night. Seth was away for the weekend, although at his age, he wouldn't interrupt a movie, anyway. Liam crashed. It appeared as if Lily had crashed. She's generally amiable about retiring to her bed at night...it's keeping her there that can be problematic.
Dana and I thought she was sleeping, and we spent a good half hour deciding just which movie we wanted to order from Pay-Per-View. Surprisingly, Dana and I agreed that the preview for The Namesake looked good - this surprised me that Dana wanted to watch this, too, so I quickly ordered it before he changed his mind.
We share a bedroom with Lily and Liam. Once upon a time, our bedroom was actually two rooms, but some genius predating us decided it would be great to rip down the wall and make one large master bedroom...obviously, someone who didn't have a family as big as ours...However, because the room was once two, it is quite large and is divided in such a way that we are still able to maintain some semblance of privacy.
My job is volume-control. Dana is no good at volume control. It's actually kind of irritating, and I imagine I'm a bit frustrating to watch a movie with because I am so particular about volume-control. I hate when it's either too loud, or too soft, so through the entire movie, I'm constantly turning it up or down every few minutes, which also brings up this visual volume prompt on the television screen. It irritates me, so I'm really surprised Dana has never jabbed me for it, or even complained about it. However, volume control is a serious job when you share your room with two tiny children, because you don't want to disturb their sleep. So, there I am, every few minutes through a course of a movie, turning it up and turning it down. Inevitably, we miss a lot of the movie this way - mostly because it's too quiet.
Now we thought Lily was asleep. But then I noticed across the dark room Lily pop up in her bed. I could tell she was watching us. I elbowed Dana, semi-motioning with my head. I didn't want him to actually look at her, nor did I want her to know we noticed her, or else it would be all over.
Because of the volume control, we missed a great bit of the beginning, which I think may have been vital to the overall plot. There was a lot of emphasis on the son in the movie, and his name, which was Gogol. I think the point was the father wanted to come to India with his wife, and had been in a horrible train accident. Right before the train crashed, the father was talking to some old guy on the train about some book and traveling and I don't really know what because I couldn't hear anything... and then the boy grows up in America and is distraught about what a weird name he has, and acts like a general snot to his family - not just because he is completely disconnected from his heritage (though he is), but also because he resembles a typical American teen. So, he's rude.
Does the make sense? Exactly. It didn't quite make sense for us, either, although I'm certain if we had actually heard it, it would have been intelligible.
Eventually a small Lily crawled out of her bed, and stealthily inched her way across the bedroom. It's not quite her fault. We tend to send her conflicting messages about bed time behavior, because sometimes, we just miss her and really don't mind her climbing in with us. But other times, we are either exhausted, or desperately need some downtime together, and we resist. So you can't blame her for trying.
We ended up - the three of us - in the kitchen, having a pseudo-midnight snack (for it was really only around 9 pm, which is technically speaking, our midnight...) of tuna fish sandwiches in the dark of the living room. Probably also not a good habit to instill in our daughter, but I never claimed to be the perfect parent...It was fun, anyway, hanging out in the quiet and having a snack.
We never did see the end of the movie. We said we would today, which is silly. I think we both kind of knew we wouldn't really have time to watch the movie today, either. But we pretended like we would, so we wouldn't feel bad about paying for it and not watching it.
In the end, it wasn't such a bad Friday night, even though we didn't get to watch the movie.
What I mean by this is that when you become a parent, you tend to become very aware time, or specifically, how very little time you have. So, you don't waste time in the same way you did Before Children.
Of course, time has not changed. But as a parent, you find yourself on a regimented schedule, much out of the sake of necessity and maintaining mental health. I remember a time in which I did not wear a watch. I wouldn't ask what time it was, but about what hour it was? Now I am scheduled down to the minute from the moment I roll off the air mattress to the moment I collapse into the air mattress.
Dana and I decided we would watch a movie after getting the kids into bed. At first, it seemed like everyone would cooperate. Grandpa can't ever make it past 8 p.m. His very ability to speak becomes a challenge by this hour of the night. Seth was away for the weekend, although at his age, he wouldn't interrupt a movie, anyway. Liam crashed. It appeared as if Lily had crashed. She's generally amiable about retiring to her bed at night...it's keeping her there that can be problematic.
Dana and I thought she was sleeping, and we spent a good half hour deciding just which movie we wanted to order from Pay-Per-View. Surprisingly, Dana and I agreed that the preview for The Namesake looked good - this surprised me that Dana wanted to watch this, too, so I quickly ordered it before he changed his mind.
We share a bedroom with Lily and Liam. Once upon a time, our bedroom was actually two rooms, but some genius predating us decided it would be great to rip down the wall and make one large master bedroom...obviously, someone who didn't have a family as big as ours...However, because the room was once two, it is quite large and is divided in such a way that we are still able to maintain some semblance of privacy.
My job is volume-control. Dana is no good at volume control. It's actually kind of irritating, and I imagine I'm a bit frustrating to watch a movie with because I am so particular about volume-control. I hate when it's either too loud, or too soft, so through the entire movie, I'm constantly turning it up or down every few minutes, which also brings up this visual volume prompt on the television screen. It irritates me, so I'm really surprised Dana has never jabbed me for it, or even complained about it. However, volume control is a serious job when you share your room with two tiny children, because you don't want to disturb their sleep. So, there I am, every few minutes through a course of a movie, turning it up and turning it down. Inevitably, we miss a lot of the movie this way - mostly because it's too quiet.
Now we thought Lily was asleep. But then I noticed across the dark room Lily pop up in her bed. I could tell she was watching us. I elbowed Dana, semi-motioning with my head. I didn't want him to actually look at her, nor did I want her to know we noticed her, or else it would be all over.
Because of the volume control, we missed a great bit of the beginning, which I think may have been vital to the overall plot. There was a lot of emphasis on the son in the movie, and his name, which was Gogol. I think the point was the father wanted to come to India with his wife, and had been in a horrible train accident. Right before the train crashed, the father was talking to some old guy on the train about some book and traveling and I don't really know what because I couldn't hear anything... and then the boy grows up in America and is distraught about what a weird name he has, and acts like a general snot to his family - not just because he is completely disconnected from his heritage (though he is), but also because he resembles a typical American teen. So, he's rude.
Does the make sense? Exactly. It didn't quite make sense for us, either, although I'm certain if we had actually heard it, it would have been intelligible.
Eventually a small Lily crawled out of her bed, and stealthily inched her way across the bedroom. It's not quite her fault. We tend to send her conflicting messages about bed time behavior, because sometimes, we just miss her and really don't mind her climbing in with us. But other times, we are either exhausted, or desperately need some downtime together, and we resist. So you can't blame her for trying.
We ended up - the three of us - in the kitchen, having a pseudo-midnight snack (for it was really only around 9 pm, which is technically speaking, our midnight...) of tuna fish sandwiches in the dark of the living room. Probably also not a good habit to instill in our daughter, but I never claimed to be the perfect parent...It was fun, anyway, hanging out in the quiet and having a snack.
We never did see the end of the movie. We said we would today, which is silly. I think we both kind of knew we wouldn't really have time to watch the movie today, either. But we pretended like we would, so we wouldn't feel bad about paying for it and not watching it.
In the end, it wasn't such a bad Friday night, even though we didn't get to watch the movie.
1.10.2008
Day 10. in which we wait for Day 11.
Remember how long the days used to seem when you were little? I recall the summer I realized that the length of summer vacation was not half the year, the summer I became 'aware' of the calendar. I think this may be one of the saddest, yet least recognized, moments of childhood. The moment when you recognize that the days no longer flowed together in an endless blur; the counting of the calendar to tomorrow had begun.
It's unfortunate that we spend most of the week waiting for Friday. I am guilty of day-counting. Our entire family is. This also puts a lot of pressure on Friday. Friday has to be a bang-up day. Something has to happen! I know I typically feel disappointed as I drift off to sleep on Friday, because I feel that I'm already one evening into the weekend, and I haven't even thought about doing all of the things I really want to do, let alone actually doing any of them.
Worse than day-counting is week-counting (or even month-counting!). You inevitably are always 'waiting' and not 'living'. I am waiting for payday. I am waiting for when my family comes over to visit a couple of Saturdays from now. I am waiting for the summer so we can take the kids to Rye Beach. I am waiting...
If I wait for too long, I might miss the fact that being is immediate and now. If I want to live, I better start paying attention and stop counting time.
I feel every time I look at my son, he has grown another foot, and his voice is an octave lower. How did this happen?? The kids are growing older much too quickly. This is terrifying!
It's unfortunate that we spend most of the week waiting for Friday. I am guilty of day-counting. Our entire family is. This also puts a lot of pressure on Friday. Friday has to be a bang-up day. Something has to happen! I know I typically feel disappointed as I drift off to sleep on Friday, because I feel that I'm already one evening into the weekend, and I haven't even thought about doing all of the things I really want to do, let alone actually doing any of them.
Worse than day-counting is week-counting (or even month-counting!). You inevitably are always 'waiting' and not 'living'. I am waiting for payday. I am waiting for when my family comes over to visit a couple of Saturdays from now. I am waiting for the summer so we can take the kids to Rye Beach. I am waiting...
If I wait for too long, I might miss the fact that being is immediate and now. If I want to live, I better start paying attention and stop counting time.
I feel every time I look at my son, he has grown another foot, and his voice is an octave lower. How did this happen?? The kids are growing older much too quickly. This is terrifying!
1.08.2008
Day 8. in which Alex is adjusted.
I admit, I was skeptical, but I'm skeptical by nature. My only real experience with chiropractics is the summer I spent working as a temp for the American Chiropractic Network. My boss was a chiropractor, but apparently, not particularly net savvy. My purpose was to find and recruit massage therapists, chiropractors and acupuncturists for membership in ACN. Most of the information she had us telephoning for was already available through an internet search. Then, I had to call these people I "located" and explain to them how great it would be for them to join. There were several of us doing this for eight hours a day, five days a week. It was dreadfully easy, but also dreadfully dull. It was a very long summer, spent slouching around in an ill-lit room, in front of a computer.
It seemed to me that most of the chiropractors here were more business-oriented, and less health-care oriented - although my impression could be completely off here. So, when I thought of 'chiropractors', I had the idea of something cold. Something corporate.
However, I tend to have chronic pain in my neck and lower back, from various injuries, and a fair number of people have recommended chiropractics. I'm fairly clumsy. I've injured myself in minor but multiple ways for the last couple of decades. I can't count the number of times I've been walking with someone - sometimes a group of someones - and have just completely fallen down for no apparent reason to the spectator. I've pulled back muscles a number of times years ago when I worked as a nurse's aide, hauling overweight elderly people out of their beds and into their wheelchairs. I've slid on an icy patch stepping (not running...just stepping) out of a car, and been laid up for weeks afterwards. I was in a car accident once, too. Most of these incidents were stupid, and all of them completely avoidable.
A couple of years ago, I woke up one morning entirely unable to move my neck whatsoever. And I hadn't even done anything! That's how clumsy I am.
When I walked into Dr. Blisko's office, I was surprised by the 'atmosphere'. It was calm, and not in the least bit like a sterile doctor's office. It was blue. There was soothing Eastern music in the background. It was like walking into a small strange spa.
It was actually a bit weird, I thought? I asked my friend who was kind enough to give me a ride, and he was non-committal so I wasn't exactly certain how he felt about waiting in the waiting room. I hoped the place was not creeping him out! And then, at the same time, I wondered if it was strange for me to think that the place might be creeping it out, because I wasn't sure if that was a normal sort of thing to think. I mean, was it creepy? Did I feel it was creepy?
They used some kind of scan that chiropractics apparently borrowed from NASA...It was like NASA had developed it for something completely different, but the chiropractors learned about this technology and borrowed it for their own purposes. I didn't quite get it, and I also wasn't so certain how scientific this all was. But I was surprised to see that the scan actually did show 'red' where my body ached the most. And it showed nothing in the parts of my body that don't ache at all.
Now, I'm easily taken by magic tricks. I can never figure out how anyone does any kind of magic trick. It's all mysterious to me. But, at the same time, I fully recognize that magic tricks are just that - tricks. So, I'm not entirely convinced this wasn't a coincidence.
Dr Blisko came in, and gave me his whole spiel. You could tell that he's really into this. But I still wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't a cold, corporate place masquerading as a warm, fuzzy place.
I stood up after he 'adjusted' me, and I wasn't certain how I felt. A bit different. There was a pain in my back that I had not had so much before coming in.
An hour later, I was in even more pain. I was trying not to freak out, but I was a bit in my head.
However, this morning when I woke up, I felt AMAZING! I can't get over it! I think he snapped me out of my hunch a bit already! Dr Blisko freaked me out a bit, honestly, when he told me I was "collapsing" in on myself. But I am thinking he may be right, and this may work...
Regardless, I've decided even if chiropractics turns out to be a hoax, it's completely worth it, if only for the hour of quiet in a peaceful sort of place.
It seemed to me that most of the chiropractors here were more business-oriented, and less health-care oriented - although my impression could be completely off here. So, when I thought of 'chiropractors', I had the idea of something cold. Something corporate.
However, I tend to have chronic pain in my neck and lower back, from various injuries, and a fair number of people have recommended chiropractics. I'm fairly clumsy. I've injured myself in minor but multiple ways for the last couple of decades. I can't count the number of times I've been walking with someone - sometimes a group of someones - and have just completely fallen down for no apparent reason to the spectator. I've pulled back muscles a number of times years ago when I worked as a nurse's aide, hauling overweight elderly people out of their beds and into their wheelchairs. I've slid on an icy patch stepping (not running...just stepping) out of a car, and been laid up for weeks afterwards. I was in a car accident once, too. Most of these incidents were stupid, and all of them completely avoidable.
A couple of years ago, I woke up one morning entirely unable to move my neck whatsoever. And I hadn't even done anything! That's how clumsy I am.
When I walked into Dr. Blisko's office, I was surprised by the 'atmosphere'. It was calm, and not in the least bit like a sterile doctor's office. It was blue. There was soothing Eastern music in the background. It was like walking into a small strange spa.
It was actually a bit weird, I thought? I asked my friend who was kind enough to give me a ride, and he was non-committal so I wasn't exactly certain how he felt about waiting in the waiting room. I hoped the place was not creeping him out! And then, at the same time, I wondered if it was strange for me to think that the place might be creeping it out, because I wasn't sure if that was a normal sort of thing to think. I mean, was it creepy? Did I feel it was creepy?
They used some kind of scan that chiropractics apparently borrowed from NASA...It was like NASA had developed it for something completely different, but the chiropractors learned about this technology and borrowed it for their own purposes. I didn't quite get it, and I also wasn't so certain how scientific this all was. But I was surprised to see that the scan actually did show 'red' where my body ached the most. And it showed nothing in the parts of my body that don't ache at all.
Now, I'm easily taken by magic tricks. I can never figure out how anyone does any kind of magic trick. It's all mysterious to me. But, at the same time, I fully recognize that magic tricks are just that - tricks. So, I'm not entirely convinced this wasn't a coincidence.
Dr Blisko came in, and gave me his whole spiel. You could tell that he's really into this. But I still wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't a cold, corporate place masquerading as a warm, fuzzy place.
I stood up after he 'adjusted' me, and I wasn't certain how I felt. A bit different. There was a pain in my back that I had not had so much before coming in.
An hour later, I was in even more pain. I was trying not to freak out, but I was a bit in my head.
However, this morning when I woke up, I felt AMAZING! I can't get over it! I think he snapped me out of my hunch a bit already! Dr Blisko freaked me out a bit, honestly, when he told me I was "collapsing" in on myself. But I am thinking he may be right, and this may work...
Regardless, I've decided even if chiropractics turns out to be a hoax, it's completely worth it, if only for the hour of quiet in a peaceful sort of place.
1.07.2008
Day 7. in which Alex returns home alive from USR, and sees Chuck Norris.
Today was one of those days in which both seemed to never end and yet which passed in a whirlwind blur. From the moment I get out of bed in the morning to the moment I collapse in the same spot, I am in motion. The days in which I have to commute to Upper Saddle River, New Jersey for work are killer.
And Mondays, in general, are not a good day for me. I feel like over the weekend, I forget what I do for a living, and it takes me a good day to get back into the rhythm of what is happening. I am a creature of necessary habit.
The ride home, as always, was a fun adventure with my co-worker, Kyrce. Kyrce and I often talk passionately in the car about all the things we would like to say at work, but can't. Once, she drove past the Kingston exit because we were so into the conversation. Although right now, I couldn't tell you what that conversation was about! Poor Dana was ready to rip his hair out from the kids that night, and had called when we were near New Paltz. When he called again, sounded rather desperate, I was actually scared to tell him we were riding around in Saugerties, trying to get back to Kingston...Kyrce was cackling in the background...I think Dana thought we were off having a good time! Anyway, as draining as the commute can be, Kyrce makes for an entertaining companion. If I had to do it alone, I would likely be out of a job by now.
It always seems like a miracle to me when I either make it to USR alive, or make it home alive. The ride itself can be completely terrifying. Rt 17 in New Jersey, to me, is far worse than riding in the most horrible roller coaster you can think of. I almost want to kiss the ground every time I arrive at work, and find myself still alive.
However, coming home and finding my family happily playing inside put a good end to my rather horrid day. Dana had already fed the kids, and everyone was smiling. Sometimes, I'm a bit nervous riding home, wondering what situation might await! With such a big, weird household, you never know...So, anytime I walk in the door, and find everyone in relatively good shape, I breathe a sigh of relief.
And this was one of those nights. Unfortunately, by the time I get home on these days, I'm pretty much putting the kids in their jammies, and tucking them into bed. But we had a little time to play together, and that was nice. And Lily actually spent the entire night in her bed without being witchy about it, which was really nice...It's hard to sleep with a toddler foot in your face...
Right before bed, Dana and I stopped in Seth's room for a bit, which is always fun. He was working on his Chuck Norris video tribute...yeah, it's pretty funny, and I'm enjoying watching him work with photography and video. We laughed so hard that I'm surprised we didn't wake Dad up. This was what I saw right before I went to sleep. You can check it out here.
And on that note, goodnight!
And Mondays, in general, are not a good day for me. I feel like over the weekend, I forget what I do for a living, and it takes me a good day to get back into the rhythm of what is happening. I am a creature of necessary habit.
The ride home, as always, was a fun adventure with my co-worker, Kyrce. Kyrce and I often talk passionately in the car about all the things we would like to say at work, but can't. Once, she drove past the Kingston exit because we were so into the conversation. Although right now, I couldn't tell you what that conversation was about! Poor Dana was ready to rip his hair out from the kids that night, and had called when we were near New Paltz. When he called again, sounded rather desperate, I was actually scared to tell him we were riding around in Saugerties, trying to get back to Kingston...Kyrce was cackling in the background...I think Dana thought we were off having a good time! Anyway, as draining as the commute can be, Kyrce makes for an entertaining companion. If I had to do it alone, I would likely be out of a job by now.
It always seems like a miracle to me when I either make it to USR alive, or make it home alive. The ride itself can be completely terrifying. Rt 17 in New Jersey, to me, is far worse than riding in the most horrible roller coaster you can think of. I almost want to kiss the ground every time I arrive at work, and find myself still alive.
However, coming home and finding my family happily playing inside put a good end to my rather horrid day. Dana had already fed the kids, and everyone was smiling. Sometimes, I'm a bit nervous riding home, wondering what situation might await! With such a big, weird household, you never know...So, anytime I walk in the door, and find everyone in relatively good shape, I breathe a sigh of relief.
And this was one of those nights. Unfortunately, by the time I get home on these days, I'm pretty much putting the kids in their jammies, and tucking them into bed. But we had a little time to play together, and that was nice. And Lily actually spent the entire night in her bed without being witchy about it, which was really nice...It's hard to sleep with a toddler foot in your face...
Right before bed, Dana and I stopped in Seth's room for a bit, which is always fun. He was working on his Chuck Norris video tribute...yeah, it's pretty funny, and I'm enjoying watching him work with photography and video. We laughed so hard that I'm surprised we didn't wake Dad up. This was what I saw right before I went to sleep. You can check it out here.
And on that note, goodnight!
1.06.2008
Day 6. in which Alex tries to decode the mysteries of Bob.
Last night, I had this dream that I had uncovered a manuscript my father had written years earlier, along with a package of letters that were bound together with a rubber band. The letters I found were letters that I had saved which he had kept from years when I had lived in Wichita Falls, Texas. Unfortunately, I don't recollect mailing Dad any letters (although because I do not remember does not mean that it did not happen), and when I asked Dad this morning if he had ever written a novel, he plainly answered 'no' (although because Dad does not remember does not mean that it did not happen, either).
In hindsight, I should have realized I was dreaming, because ever time I tried to get settled in some place where I could read the manuscript, I was interrupted. I could not read more than a few words before something random would occur. The last thing I remember was sitting in the back of a friend's car, and a friend of his rolling down the window, as this great wind whipping through the car, causing me scrambling to keep the manuscript from flying out the window. I was desperate to save my father's manuscript, and even though it was all over the inside of the car, I managed to hold onto it.
It was disappointing to wake up and find no such manuscript. Although rummaging through some of my father's things after he moved in last Winter, I did come across some IRS tax codes typed out (on an actual typewriter!) on extra large manila index cards. For some reason, even this fascinated me. Imagine how I would have felt had I found a secret manuscript for father left behind!
I think the drive for me to write, perhaps now more than ever, is a desire to leave behind 'something' by which my family can recognize me in the future, beyond a photograph which is what we mostly leave behind as humans but by which measures such a small portion of who we 'are'.
My father has Alzheimer's disease. Alzheimer's is such a mysterious illness. Being able to remember is more important to me than being able to see, than being able to hear, than being able to speak. However, those afflicted are often not equitably treated. It is easy to become frustrated with Dad's actions, because it seems so unbelievable that you could forget where the bathroom is located, not realize what house you live in, or confuse your daughter for your wife. But seriously, would you ever yell at a blind person for bumping into a table? Would you snap at a deaf person for not answering the door when the doorbell rings?
Yesterday, I became really frustrated with him at shower time. I put the shampoo in Dad's hair and scrub it before he gets in the shower, so that all he has to do is rinse it out, which saves us both the embarrassment of me actually going in the shower with him. It's hard to tell how the experience will go, depending on how bad of a day Dad is having...and often, depending on how bad of a day I am having. I was rushing him more than usual on this day because I was also trying to watch the two babies, since Dana was at work. Luckily, Seth was on-hand to help out, but Liam was completely insane and would not let me out of his sight without hollering. So, I'm lugging Liam around, and giving Dad prompts one-at-a-time from the outside of the bathroom door.
The water went off too quickly, I thought, but Dad acted offended when I asked him if he had really cleaned up, and I gave him a break. It's a hard position for either of us to be in, with him standing there dripping wet in a towel and his daughter in front of him, demanding if he 'really' cleaned himself...
I showed him to his bedroom at the end of the hall, and pointed him to his clothing on the bed. He came out, mostly dressed, and I thought this isn't so bad...until I combed his hair, and realized it still had shampoo in it.
I should have washed it out in the sink, but I didn't want to freak him out and thought it might be easier to have him get back in the shower.
This proved to be stupid. By the end of the experience of getting back in the shower, getting out of the shower, and trying to get redressed, Dad was almost in tears and said to me that he never wanted to do this again. I felt horrible. Dad put his t-shirt on under his pants, and we had to rip it to get it back off. After struggling with this for a good five minutes, I went to brush his hair again.
I wanted to pound my head against the wall. Dad still had shampoo in his hair.
How could I have been so stupid as to not check this?
I ended up rinsing it out in the sink, which surprisingly, wasn't as bad as what I had just put us both through. I was frustrated at myself, but also, I felt frustrated with Dad for not being able to just do it. And realizing how stupid it was to get frustrated with someone who obviously was not doing this on purpose made me even more frustrated because I just felt like a Nazi!
In the evening, I took a shower, and as I was stepping out of the shower to towel dry, I realized I had left conditioner in my hair and I laughed. If I didn't laugh, I might have just cried.
In hindsight, I should have realized I was dreaming, because ever time I tried to get settled in some place where I could read the manuscript, I was interrupted. I could not read more than a few words before something random would occur. The last thing I remember was sitting in the back of a friend's car, and a friend of his rolling down the window, as this great wind whipping through the car, causing me scrambling to keep the manuscript from flying out the window. I was desperate to save my father's manuscript, and even though it was all over the inside of the car, I managed to hold onto it.
It was disappointing to wake up and find no such manuscript. Although rummaging through some of my father's things after he moved in last Winter, I did come across some IRS tax codes typed out (on an actual typewriter!) on extra large manila index cards. For some reason, even this fascinated me. Imagine how I would have felt had I found a secret manuscript for father left behind!
I think the drive for me to write, perhaps now more than ever, is a desire to leave behind 'something' by which my family can recognize me in the future, beyond a photograph which is what we mostly leave behind as humans but by which measures such a small portion of who we 'are'.
My father has Alzheimer's disease. Alzheimer's is such a mysterious illness. Being able to remember is more important to me than being able to see, than being able to hear, than being able to speak. However, those afflicted are often not equitably treated. It is easy to become frustrated with Dad's actions, because it seems so unbelievable that you could forget where the bathroom is located, not realize what house you live in, or confuse your daughter for your wife. But seriously, would you ever yell at a blind person for bumping into a table? Would you snap at a deaf person for not answering the door when the doorbell rings?
Yesterday, I became really frustrated with him at shower time. I put the shampoo in Dad's hair and scrub it before he gets in the shower, so that all he has to do is rinse it out, which saves us both the embarrassment of me actually going in the shower with him. It's hard to tell how the experience will go, depending on how bad of a day Dad is having...and often, depending on how bad of a day I am having. I was rushing him more than usual on this day because I was also trying to watch the two babies, since Dana was at work. Luckily, Seth was on-hand to help out, but Liam was completely insane and would not let me out of his sight without hollering. So, I'm lugging Liam around, and giving Dad prompts one-at-a-time from the outside of the bathroom door.
The water went off too quickly, I thought, but Dad acted offended when I asked him if he had really cleaned up, and I gave him a break. It's a hard position for either of us to be in, with him standing there dripping wet in a towel and his daughter in front of him, demanding if he 'really' cleaned himself...
I showed him to his bedroom at the end of the hall, and pointed him to his clothing on the bed. He came out, mostly dressed, and I thought this isn't so bad...until I combed his hair, and realized it still had shampoo in it.
I should have washed it out in the sink, but I didn't want to freak him out and thought it might be easier to have him get back in the shower.
This proved to be stupid. By the end of the experience of getting back in the shower, getting out of the shower, and trying to get redressed, Dad was almost in tears and said to me that he never wanted to do this again. I felt horrible. Dad put his t-shirt on under his pants, and we had to rip it to get it back off. After struggling with this for a good five minutes, I went to brush his hair again.
I wanted to pound my head against the wall. Dad still had shampoo in his hair.
How could I have been so stupid as to not check this?
I ended up rinsing it out in the sink, which surprisingly, wasn't as bad as what I had just put us both through. I was frustrated at myself, but also, I felt frustrated with Dad for not being able to just do it. And realizing how stupid it was to get frustrated with someone who obviously was not doing this on purpose made me even more frustrated because I just felt like a Nazi!
In the evening, I took a shower, and as I was stepping out of the shower to towel dry, I realized I had left conditioner in my hair and I laughed. If I didn't laugh, I might have just cried.
Lily vehemently declares her aptitude for motherhood!
Click here for video of Seth harrassing his little sister!
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