I just realized that I had not written in nearly 2 weeks! There are days when time seems to stand still and yet they go by so quickly. Each and every day, I find myself trying to take care of everything at home and with my family but also making sure I have time to visit with Etta.
When the children leave at 7:20am for school, I rush back to my to-do list and get moving. I’ve been up for 2 hours already mapping out my priorities with a strong cup of coffee. Before I know it, it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and the children come barreling in the door from school. Whatever hasn’t gotten done by this point will likely have to wait until tomorrow. Deep Sigh. The kids “unpack and snack” before tackling homework and hopefully squeezing in some play time before heading off to whatever extra curricular activities are scheduled. I check the mail, paying our bills and Etta’s too. Throw in some laundry. Perhaps even bake a cake. The sun begins to set and I’ve got to figure out a plan for dinner. I’m not even working anymore (for now) and yet my time is spread thin. Everything does get done (usually), but I maximize every moment. Only as I write this entry am I sitting down for the 1st time today (other than when driving, of course). It’s 5:03pm.
I almost feel like I am living a double life some days. It is as though I have 2 homes- one with my precious children…and the other with my grandmother in a secured dementia unit of a nursing home. Two different approaches. Two separate lifestyles. Two sets of needs. Two prognoses. Two perspectives. Two opposite goals. Yet, both dependent upon me, to an extent. And, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would just add hours to my days.
As a mother, each day is, in essence, working towards helping my children spread their wings so that they will one day leave this nest and become independent, contributing members of society. As for Etta, each day is spent clipping those wings, doing for her what she is unable to do for herself. Nope, she will never fly this coupe, rather I help her nestle in a little more each day because…well, because this is it. She boasts of her beautiful home often and her plans to return their nearly every day. She doesn’t know that her next move won’t be back to her brick rambler, but to a magnificent mansion with shiny pearly gates. Most days, I intentionally take pause when I kiss her good-bye. I ponder the inevitable…Will this be the last time I look into her trusting eyes or if I will repeat this exchange over and over for years to come? I try to wipe these thoughts from my mind and savor the moment…live in the moment…cherish the moment. The reality is that had it not been for rescuing my grandparents from their home, they would have died there, likely within days. AND neither she nor I would have claimed the gift of this time together. Sad to think it took such a tragedy but the silver lining is..US…together. Reminds me of a plaque I recently saw that sums it up perfectly… "Life is not waiting for the storm to pass, it's learning to dance in the rain." With that, I pop up my polka-dot umbrella, slip on my boots…and do my jig another day.
When the children leave at 7:20am for school, I rush back to my to-do list and get moving. I’ve been up for 2 hours already mapping out my priorities with a strong cup of coffee. Before I know it, it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and the children come barreling in the door from school. Whatever hasn’t gotten done by this point will likely have to wait until tomorrow. Deep Sigh. The kids “unpack and snack” before tackling homework and hopefully squeezing in some play time before heading off to whatever extra curricular activities are scheduled. I check the mail, paying our bills and Etta’s too. Throw in some laundry. Perhaps even bake a cake. The sun begins to set and I’ve got to figure out a plan for dinner. I’m not even working anymore (for now) and yet my time is spread thin. Everything does get done (usually), but I maximize every moment. Only as I write this entry am I sitting down for the 1st time today (other than when driving, of course). It’s 5:03pm.
I almost feel like I am living a double life some days. It is as though I have 2 homes- one with my precious children…and the other with my grandmother in a secured dementia unit of a nursing home. Two different approaches. Two separate lifestyles. Two sets of needs. Two prognoses. Two perspectives. Two opposite goals. Yet, both dependent upon me, to an extent. And, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would just add hours to my days.
As a mother, each day is, in essence, working towards helping my children spread their wings so that they will one day leave this nest and become independent, contributing members of society. As for Etta, each day is spent clipping those wings, doing for her what she is unable to do for herself. Nope, she will never fly this coupe, rather I help her nestle in a little more each day because…well, because this is it. She boasts of her beautiful home often and her plans to return their nearly every day. She doesn’t know that her next move won’t be back to her brick rambler, but to a magnificent mansion with shiny pearly gates. Most days, I intentionally take pause when I kiss her good-bye. I ponder the inevitable…Will this be the last time I look into her trusting eyes or if I will repeat this exchange over and over for years to come? I try to wipe these thoughts from my mind and savor the moment…live in the moment…cherish the moment. The reality is that had it not been for rescuing my grandparents from their home, they would have died there, likely within days. AND neither she nor I would have claimed the gift of this time together. Sad to think it took such a tragedy but the silver lining is..US…together. Reminds me of a plaque I recently saw that sums it up perfectly… "Life is not waiting for the storm to pass, it's learning to dance in the rain." With that, I pop up my polka-dot umbrella, slip on my boots…and do my jig another day.