The Stranger I Married

Maybe you've been married 5 years, 10 years, 25 years or more. The spouse is still a stranger. You get lulled into this sense of complacency and suddenly life whacks you on the head. You thought you had it all figured out. Hah, hah -- the joke's on you.

That's part of the ride. I've often fantasized about pulling a bride aside at her reception and giving her this advice:

You are lovely, but you are clueless. He will rock your world in good ways and bad. You will do the same to him. Pick three things right now that you find amazing. Hang on to them when you hate everything about him. Watch your tongue -- hateful words are tough to hear. They tend to come back to haunt you. I hope you are both smart and funny. Those two qualities will serve you well.

My stranger still rocks my world. He's the person I look for across the room. He's always the most handsome man in the room. He puts up with my moods & my snoring. He's the person I can be crabby with. He's disappointed me; I've disappointed him. After umpteen years, he still courts me.

We're legally bound but as we all know, that can be undone. We're financially bound. That too can be unwound. We're emotionally bonded. As I always tell him, "if you ever decide to divorce me, I get you as part of my property settlement." I'll hunt him down.

The oldies and my parents have set excellent examples in marriage. Our marriage is a little different. But, we're still hanging in there.

He's my husband. He's my friend. He's the one I cling to. He's still a stranger.

Girl Trips

Don't misunderstand. I love vacationing or traveling with my husband. It works out best if we do it with other couples so he has someone to play golf with.

I think girl trips are the salve for the tired and weary. They save your soul. There's something about hanging with the girlfriends, cooking something easy or not cooking at all, no makeup, no kids, no husbands. (Dogs permitted, depending on the location.)

There's an intimacy that surfaces when you're alone with the girls. Let's talk about the time that you really annoyed me. Let's talk about the friends that we miss. Let's talk about people's botched surgeries or bad clothing choices. Let's play cards. Let's talk about the kids and where we screwed up. Let's talk about the weird things going on with our bodies. Let's toot our own horns and honor each other.

Girl trips are a safe haven, just like golf trips for the men. I find it very sad that my mother-in-law has never been on one. When you're tethered, your choices are to either lie down and be complacent or take him with you.

I take several girl trips a year. They save my sanity.

Birds and Superstitions

I don't care for birds. They give me the creeps. I know they're beautiful and serve their purpose but they still make me a little crazy. Alfred Hitchcock didn't help but I mostly picked this up from my grandmother. She was very superstitious. A bird that accidentally flew into your house meant that someone close to you was going to die. There's an upper thought as you're running around your house with a broom trying to get the stupid creature to fly out.

I don't consider myself superstitious but I do feel the prickly hairs on the back of my neck when a black cat crosses my path or someone walks under a ladder. I think it's my grandmother saying, "I'm still here."

On vacation a few years ago, there was a child near me on the beach. He took great pleasure in throwing his chips in the air and all the seagulls would come flocking. My girlfriends were hysterical because I was having a meltdown. All of these birds swooping down! Hello, Alfred Hitchcock! Suddenly, I'm Tippi Hedren without the pretty hairdo. Not funny, Grandma!

Water

The pool is open! Many of my friends have pools but that has never appealed to me. Looks like a lot of work. Instead, I wait impatiently for our club pool to open and then jump up and down like a 5-year old when it does. As old members, the girlfriends and I have commandeered our special spot. We call it "Cocktail Corner." After golf, the husbands are allowed to join us. Every once in a while, some unknowing person ventures into our space. Wrong! We find a way to move them along. (We're usually polite.) You have to have been around the block a time or two to sit in Cocktail Corner.

I have friends with lake cottages. I can be packed before I hang up the phone. My blood pressure goes down significantly the moment I see the lake. Dogs and friends make for added fun but mainly, I like looking at the water, watching the sunset, cocktails on the pier and our other routines. (The wet dogs make Big Daddy crazy.) Dinner at 8pm? Dinner at 10pm? Who cares? Let's all go for a boat ride.

I love the ocean. Some people have this weird thing about flying over water. Are you any less dead if you crash in water versus on land? Call me crazy but I don't think so. I love to walk along the beach, I love the crash of the waves, I love the enormity of it all. I love the smell of ocean air. I love the memories.

The husband has a similar fondness for the mountains. I understand that. Mountains are majestic and I am in awe of the beauty they behold. I still need some water.

When I need an escape from the oldies, I love to take a swim in my tub.

In Bed

Someone once told me that fortune cookies take on a whole new meaning if you add the words "in bed" after the fortune. We always do that. If nothing else, it's comical.

The oldies spend an phenomenal amount of time in bed. I am often perplexed. Are they tired? Are they sick? Are they bored? Is it because they stayed awake all night? I have learned not to ask these questions.

My bed is heavenly. I look forward to crawling into it every night. I love returning from a trip and sleeping in my own bed. I spent a lot of time and energy searching for the best sheets -- not necessarily the most expensive. My bed is an oasis yet, I can't imagine spending the day there.

Eat. Sleep. Repeat. If this is life as an oldie, I'll pass.

Crimes & Misdemeanors

Once, the husband and I were having dinner and I realized the oldies needed a prescription that I had dropped off earlier. I left immediately and arrived at the drug store about 10 minutes after closing time. I could see the assistant manager vacuuming so I started banging on the door. She knows me so she let me in. With apologies, she warned me that the pharmacy had already closed out for the evening. It didn't stop me! I ran back yelling the pharmacist's name. She peeked out from behind the draping and said, "Sorry, we've already closed the register." It didn't stop me! After a brief discussion, she gave me the pills with the understanding that I would pay for them the next day. I'd have to check with my attorney but I think we could've both been in big trouble for that little transaction.

I lie for the oldies every day. I call people (Realtors, credit card companies, doctors, etc.) and if they push me, I do what it takes to get it done. The oldies are relieved and I'm guilty. I try very hard to live an honorable life and the oldies have turned me into an occasional fraud.

As sad as it is, pushy people get things done.

Internet and The Media

At a recent conference I attended, one of the topics was the impact of the Internet on mainstream media. I was astounded.



I can't quote the statistics but the majority of people (under 60) get their news from the Internet. Blogs were the impetus for the downfall of Don Imus and Dan Rather. They exposed the Rush Limbaugh fiasco. The tradional media outlets are scrambling. Instead of reporting the news, they now need to provide perspective and commentary. We've already read the news. Now, tell us what it means.



As a journalist and writer, I find this fascinating.

I'm addicted to it all. The traditional news, the blogs, Court TV, Fox News, CNN, MSNBC, and more. When I was in Journalism school, we were required to read 5 newspapers each day. (There was no Internet; there was no cable.) We had a daily quiz about current events and you never knew which news source it would come from. Here's a sick part of my personality -- I loved it! Bring it on! That's probably the only reason I graduated from Journalism school -- I was really good at the current events quizzes.

I'm constantly trying to discuss current events with the oldies. I also make the Baby do little pop quizzes. When Reagan's funeral was on television, I dragged him out of bed and made him watch. With every pan of the camera, I was saying, "Who's that?" He needs to know the leaders of other countries, our cabinet members, past leaders, etc. He yawned a lot.

Do you think he knows who's buried in Grant's tomb?

Daddy's Girl

There's a special something that happens between daughters and dads. Both of my parents would walk through fire for me. My dad would do it doused in gasoline. My mom is my go-to person, my confindante, my friend. My dad is my soft cushion. He'll hug me and make it better. He'll show up when I need anything.

My mom had to play the tough guy during my childhood. She did not trust me a bit and rightly so. My dad thought I was his angel. (Not!) Even when I disappointed him, he made me feel like the most special little girl on this planet.

A million years ago, I was in college and I wanted to come home for the weekend. It was raining, sleeting, snowing, etc. My mother said, "No way! We are not driving to get you." Later, she called (and trust me, she was cranky) and said, "Your father is on his way." That's what dads do.

Big Daddy and our daughter have a similar relationship. For a girl, there's nothing like the approval of your dad.

I'm a big hugger. There's no better hug than one from my dad.

Soundtracks

The husband (Big Daddy) and the child (Baby) gave me an iPod for Christmas. As I download music and go through favorite songs, I am transported in time.



I picture girlfriends singing their lungs out to REO Speedwagon, Lynryd Skynyrd, The Beatles, Boston, Rod Stewart, SuperChamp, etc.



I think of every boy that this was "our song."



I think of every concert I attended with my dad. George Jones and Willie Nelson rule. George Strait too. I'm a huge fan of country music now but as a child, I was mortified to get on the school bus and be singing or humming some country song.

I know which songs make me feel sad, make me feel sexy, make me feel loved. It's an interesting journey. Some people track their lives through photos. I think I'm doing it with songs.

Big Daddy

I'm not sure when I started referring to the husband as "Big Daddy." Just for the record, he hates it. Unfortunately for him, it's caught on. I love old movies so I'm pretty sure I borrowed it from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

I used it with our old dog. I constantly use it with the puppy, "Big Daddy would be so mad if he saw you doing that!" The workout girls refer to him as Big Daddy. The other day, his mother said to me, "What time will Big Daddy be home?"

Cross Check & Call Forward

When the flight attendants say, "Cross check and call forward." this is one of my favorite phrases. You're on a plane! You're going somewhere different! You're escaping!

In my previous job, I flew around the midwest quite a bit. I also had business trips across the country. Big jets, small planes ... it didn't matter. I had a job to do. While I still occasionally fly for business, I most often get on a plane for pleasure. I love it. Shut the door, do the routine and get this baby in the air.

I can get very depressed when I don't have an upcoming trip on my calendar.

The Workout Girls

Several years ago, I started a little workout group. When the husband realized I was serious, he and my son converted a small room in our basement into a workout room. We have a ballet bar, lots of free weights, bands, a weight bench and other equipment. We have a friend who is also our personal trainer. We make her nuts.

The mother-in-law refers to this group as my coffee klatch. She's partially correct. We do work out regularly but we're much more interested in what's going on in each other's lives, discussing the news and finding any excuse not to work out. We just want the workout part to be over so we can drink coffee and chat.

Even with our constant avoidance, we're all stronger physically and mentally for it. Our trainer occasionally has to become a Nazi with us but she whips us back into the program.

I need cardio and strength. I need to take care of my bones. Most of all, I need my workout girls.

My Rules

Just saw the movie, Georgia Rule, with Jane Fonda, Felicity Huffman and Lindsay Lohan. It's a chick flick and I enjoyed it thoroughly, even though it received mixed reviews. Jane Fonda's character is a riot. She has many house rules and I'm thinking about taking a cue from her. Here are some of the rules I would love to enforce:

• Kitchen hours: Pick a 2-hour window for each meal and stick to it.
• Daily Plan: Get up, get dressed, go do something.
• Bedtime: Go to bed and stay there. No middle of the night roaming. No middle of the night snacking.
• Safety: No driving after a pain-killer. No frying while you're wobbly.
• Mealtime: No discussions of bodily functions (or malfunctions) while preparing or eating a meal.

Unfortunately, none of these will happen but a girl can fantasize.

Profanity

My mother says the blog makes me sound like I don't know how to speak without profanity. I do. Actually, I don't curse all that much, it's usually just running around in my brain.

The mother-in-law just came in my office. She said, "He's messed with the TV and remotes. I can't get it to f***ing work. Would you help?" I hope God will forgive me that I've corrupted her. I'm positive that she would have never said that word before living with me.

Competition

Every morning, the husband and I do the crossword puzzle together. Actually, we say "go" and we compete to see who can complete it faster. Just a sick little game that we enjoy.

I used to consider myself non-competitive. The crossword playground has convinced me otherwise. I like to win.

One of my girlfriends pushes me. Actually, she inspires me -- although, sometimes it's to stupidity. She's very athletic; I'm not. She's very controlled; I'm not. All she has to say is, "I'll do it if you'll do it." Something crossfires in my brain and I say, "ok!" One of these days, I'll win.

The oldies find these things charming and odd. I would place a bet that they've had a few competitions in their life. (She won!)

In the Closet

I'm not sure when we started associating the phrases "in the closet" or "out of the closet" with homosexuality. When I say I'm "in the closet," I am literally in my closet. Walk-in closets are one of the greatest ideas of our time. Mine has a packing table and lots of space. Many days, it's my favorite room. Sometimes, I drag a chair in there just to think.

When the husband and I remodeled 10 years ago, I mapped it out. This is mine! He's encroached on the territory a tad bit but I always remind him that I'm not very good at sharing things.

Many years ago, a girlfriend was going through a bad situation with her husband. She called me from her closet.

If you can't find me, I'm hiding from the oldies, hiding from the world. I'm in my closet.

Not My Problem

There are certain phrases that get things done. My current favorite is, "Not my problem." Today, a girlfriend told me a story of a business/negotiation situation. Clients tried to explain why things weren't going according to plan. Guess what phrase she used in response?

I have never used this phrase with the oldies. I'm holding it for when I need to bring out the big guns.

Missing Someone Who's Still Here

We had a scare today. Nothing life-threatening or terribly serious -- just enough to shake you back into reality.

The mother-in-law gets very weak and occasionally needs blood. It's frightening to me. I made a fool of myself in the doctor's office today while she passed out/fell asleep in the reception area. After I dropped her off at the hospital, I started wondering about life without her here. We've developed quite a little routine. We watch our favorite shows together. We gripe about the family together. Although I am a little too "tart" for her tastes, she gets me. She could do without my profanity, but other than that, we have a very similar sense of humor.

She comes home tomorrow. Maybe I'll fry something for her.

Repetition

I take great comfort in routine, tradition and repetition. And, I get teased a lot for it. I like the way it feels to do something year after year. I cry when the husband reads The Night Before Christmas to our grown children on Christmas Eve. I love it when one of the kids says, "But we always do ..." I am a pest with my own parents about our traditions.

If you've raised children, you could probably quote many books: Goodnight Moon, The Cat in the Hat, (or anything by Dr. Seuss,) etc. It was a comfort to them as they tried to fall asleep.

I am the same way with movies. I could watch certain movies (and I do) over and over again. I like the fact that I don't have to stay awake until the end. I know how it ends. It's like someone reading me a goodnight story. As soon as I start to nod off, the husband changes the channel to ESPN or The Golf Channel.

Baby

It's been brought to my attention that the 18-year old probably doesn't enjoy being referred to as "the baby." This comes from the person who still considers me her baby.

I was reading about the 20-year anniversary of the movie, Dirty Dancing. The main character was named Frances, but everyone called her "Baby." As nicknames go, this one seems flattering and endearing.

The baby says that all old people read the obituaries, check the weather continuously and do the crossword. I'm officially an oldie! Have you ever noticed how many obituaries include a ridiculous nickname? How is there any dignity in listing someone as John "Buzz Saw" Doe? Ok, I made that one up but I have seen many more that were equally stupid.

The husband sometimes calls me "Babydoll." (When I'm annoying him he has other names that are not quite as flattering.)

I think it's an honor to be someone's "baby."

Funny People

I love a good sense of humor. The husband cracks me up, which has often saved us from killing each other. My parents have an amazing sense of humor. My friends are all very funny. Isn't laughter good for the soul?

The oldies do not get my humor. They're kind but they look at me like I'm nuts. (Maybe I am.)

My mother and I can embarrass a crowd. If we find something funny, we go from giggling to screeching. There is no in-between. Oh well.

Let's all have more laughter in our lives.

Open House

When the oldies first moved in with us, they were completely freaked out by the number of people in and out of this house. Kids, their friends, our friends, neighbors, workmen, etc.

I had an email exchange with one of my relatives. She and her husband are very diligent about security, which is wise. When I explained to her that no less than 10 people have a key to my house, plus a few others know the code on the garage door, she now wants to have me committed.

When the oldies lived in their own home, days could go by without a visitor. Now they deal with a parade of people in and out. I know it makes them nuts. I have no qualms about someone seeing me without makeup nor do I feel the need to explain if the house is not spick and span. I'm just honored that someone wants to visit me.

Come in. Fix yourself a drink. It may not be as clean as it should be but you are welcome here.

Clutter

Remember Pigpen from the Peanuts comic strip? I am Pigpen in the female form. I attract piles of paper, piles of laundry, piles of everything. I'm not sure when this happened to me.

The husband is pretty neat. He would prefer to live in a home where there is no dog hair -- well actually, no dog! He would prefer to live in a museum. Occasionally, we get into a tussle about the clutter around here. I'm very quick to point out that a lot of the mail and paperwork pertains to the oldies. (A defense mechanism that is only semi-effective.)

Every week, I make a vow to myself to get it taken care of and dealt with. Every week, the piles keep growing. Although it's not true, I plan to keep blaming it on the oldies.

Graduation Blues

I spent a fair amount of the morning addressing graduation announcements. This baby is going to be a high school graduate in a matter of days. I'm excited for him, yet it's gut wrenching. He's heading off to my alma mater in August. I remember my college days so it's easy for me to get nervous. (And I was a good girl most of the time.) We've already been through the college thing with his sister so you would think that I would be more prepared. Nope, think again.

Life used to be all about firsts. Your first kiss. Your first date. Your first car. Your first (fill in the blank.) Then, somehow a switch is thrown and you start thinking about lasts. The last summer with your baby at home. The last Christmas before your daughter moves away. The last time you spent with a friend who has died.

If I'm experiencing these thoughts in middle age, what must the oldies go through?

The Magic Trunk

Because I'm lazy, I tend to run errands and then leave everything except perishables in my trunk. When the husband notes that we are out of toothpaste or toilet paper, I often say, "No we're not. It's in my trunk." When he asks about the dry cleaning, my response is, "It's in my trunk."

The puppy is almost 9-months old. She does not understand the concept of laziness. She does understand that we go to the garage, open the trunk and a bone of some sort appears.

The other day, the oldies went to load up on soft drinks, water, etc. It's all still in their trunk. I'm rubbing off on them.

Girls

With due respect to Martina McBride, this one's for the girls.

A lot of men wish for sons to carry on the family name. I say to the girls, "Keep your own name." (You got married, not adopted.) Or, take his name but keep your own. We have options.

When the chips are down and the next disaster strikes, it's the women who pull it together. Sons gravitate to the wife's family. This may change at some point but I'm convinced it won't be in my lifetime.

Many of my friends are dealing with their own version of the oldies. The men send checks, mow the lawn, paint the fence. The women hold their hand, help them dress, clean up bodily messes, buy cards, make phone calls, schedule appointments, listen to stories, go to the grocery, pick up prescriptions ... I could go on and on.

If you're lucky, you've got a son for about 20 years and then you become an afterthought. If you're really lucky, you have a daughter, a stepdaughter, a goddaughter ... they're with you for life.

Girls rule!

My Definition of Family

As usual, I'm bucking the norm. I don't define family by people who are related by blood. I define them by love.

In this day and age, it's not unusual to deal with step-parents, step-children, half-siblings, exes, and more. I have two children ( not blood-related) that I would put my life on the line for. I have two goddaughters (not blood-related) that I would do anything for -- I do mean anything! It may be a cliche but I would throw myself in front of a bus to save someone I love.

Once upon a time, I was a young girl who was in love with a young man. We did the traditional thing -- date through high school, date through college, get married. Somebody should've smacked us both. I did love this man and I have no doubt that he loved me (at that time.) In a non-threatening way, I will love him until the end of time. I refuse to give up his family. Like a dog with a bone, I horn my way in.

The husband has been married before too. Obviously! This has brought new people into my life that I adore. Exes, friends, ex-siblings ... the list goes on. We're all intertwined. It's complicated, yet interesting.

A few times a year, I have lunch with my first husband's parents. I don't have the vocabulary to describe how much I adore these people. Plus, I totally took their son to the mat and somehow they've forgiven me. When the oldies first moved in, I remember saying I had a lunch date with my in-laws. Let your imagination fly!

I am not blood-related to any of my girlfriends. For those in the circle we've created, there is no flash in my brain that says, "Wait a minute -- they're not family."

The oldies had polar opposite childhoods. He's an only child. She's one of a jillion -- blended family and very close. Together, the oldies produced four boys and now are blessed with 12 grandchildren. Yet, life moves on. Children and grandchildren make the obligatory calls. Well, some do. But the reality is different. Life moves on. I admit, it's painful to watch.
We've navigated the most interesting road.

These are people who have been blessed in traditonal family ties. I think they would be even more blessed if they could expand their definition of "family."

When You Have a Minute

There are certain phrases that give me the chills:

From the husband: We need to talk.
From a creditor: Your account is overdue.
From a doctor: We have your test results.
From a child: You're going to be disappointed in me.

From the oldies, it's "When you have a minute."

**Def Com Four**Disaster Alert**

With that phrase, I actually start having mini-strokes. Whatever it is -- medical, car insurance, credit card issues, family issues -- it doesn't matter. I have just signed up for multiple headaches, phone calls and piles of paperwork.

Of course, she's always so grateful and gracious. That's just the fishhook in my cheek so I'll do it again next time.

Thumps in the Night

The oldies have bizarre sleep patterns. Well, she does. He could sleep through a tsunami.

I used to sleep like a baby. These days, I am awakened regularly by sounds. She's doing laundry at 3:00 am. She's going outside to have a cigarette. She's fixing him a snack. So, I lie in bed wondering if she's going to fall, if she remembered to lock the door when she came back in, if she's using the stove, etc. Exhaustive and not condusive to a good night's sleep.

Last year, I was in Florida with some friend and my husband was sound asleep in our bed. She fell in the laundry room, split her head open and crawled into our bedroom to get help. He describes it as waking up to a horror movie. She was covered in blood, head to toe. Even going through that experience doesn't stop her.

I'm thinking of instituting a bedroom curfew. Yeah, that's going to happen!

Foot in Mouth Disease

I have a big mouth. Somehow, my brain is short-circuited and things come out of me that haven't yet been edited by my brain cells. I am opinionated.

The oldies are southern and genteel. Not me! I am kind and generous but I could probably out-curse a sailor when I'm angry. (I never do this to the oldies, only the husband.)

Lately, I've been suggesting things the father-in-law might do. This is a man who was shot down as a pilot in WWII. He went on to become a successful engineer. I've suggested volunteering for businesses that might use his expertise. I've suggested writing (or creating audio tapes) for each of the grandchildren to get a feel for his life. Now, I've been shot down.

Apparently, I'm annoying. He doesn't want to do any more than wait for his wife to fry something up. Eat it. Fall asleep in a chair or their bedroom. Repeat. Repeat. I've been asked to stop proposing these ideas. I offered to get books on tape. No, thank you.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if they had something to look forward to beyond going to the doctor or going to the warehouse store? As the mother-in-law explained to me, her job is to take care of him. She would love to play cards, visit people, etc. but she can't because she's tethered to him. She thinks our lifestyle of doing things together and separately is wrong.

She loves to tell the story of packing up four young boys, a picnic basket, candles, etc. and showing up at her husband's office. To quote, "That's the only way the boys could have dinner with their daddy." In my mind, that's sort of sick and manipulative. My husband would kick me out of there so fast that I would be air born. If he's working, let him work. Isn't that why he's still there?

Mother's Day Guilt

Mother's Day is this weekend and it's shaping up to be a calamity.

As an only child, I've always spent time with my parents -- together and separately. I usually take my father to dinner on his birthday and to celebrate Father's Day. My mother and I have attended a local Decorator's Showhouse for the last 20 or so years. That's my gift to her. We also go to a Mother/Daughter dinner. Most mothers of grown children will tell you that their perfect Mother's Day is time alone to do whatever they want ... plant flowers, read a book, go to a movie. I am a card-carrying member of this club.

I tried to convince the husband that he should take his mother out to celebrate Mother's Day. She's not willing to go without his father and my husband's not willing to go without me. So, once again, the guilt falls on me. All he has to do is say, "Please be in my corner on this one," and I'm agreeing to something I do not want to do.

He wants to honor her and I respect that. Couldn't we just send some flowers?

Technology

I'm not super-smart and I'm not dumb. I'm muddling through the middle.

The mother-in-law often awes me. She's trying to understand her cell phone and its various features. We've had lesson after lesson about how to check voicemail on the cell phone and the home phone. She's almost there! Every electronic gizmo has multiple remotes. She's mastered the ones she needs.

An editorial I read recently went through the changes we've all experienced in the last 20 or so years related to technology. Manual typewriter to electric typewriter to desktop to laptop to Blackberry. Eight-track tapes to cassettes, 45s to albums to CDs, Beta or VHS -- now DVDs and Tivo. Not to mention the Internet.

I have great respect for people who keep learning.

Caregiving

I hope there's a special spot in heaven for people who have been caregivers. I also hope you get to spend some time alone there.

I know people who have and/or still are caring for aging parents. I know people who care for siblings. Unfortunately, I know people who have become caregivers for their ill children. (They deserve the penthouse.)

As an only child, I had my own room and a lot of privacy. I still crave that.

Friends in High Places

I have always known that I am blessed. I grew up surrounded in love. I've made more than my share of mistakes and I've always had people in my corner. The husband and the children are supportive, even when they're rolling their eyes at my many quirks. My parents provide goodies and gifts. They have turned themselves inside out to help whenever they can. My girlfriends are there (every day!) for advice and counsel about every aspect of life. Many of my girlfriends are also living with the quandaries associated with elder parent care.

Living with the oldies has added a new dimension to friendship. Our doctor, who is also a personal friend, now regularly stops by to check on them. One of our attorneys, who is also a personal friend and neighbor, often provides referrals and advice. I could go on ... judges, dentists, more attorneys, accountants ... they are all so willing to jump in and help. (The husband hangs with some pretty good company.)

I never want to take advantage of these friends. Yet, it doesn't stop me from picking up the phone.

The Road Trip

This is a story about a great idea that will turn into a nightmare. I am not psychic but I am able to determine when a situation will turn into a disaster.

The mother-in-law has decided she would like to hire one of the grandchildren to drive them around for a few weeks this summer to visit relatives and friends. I would love this! She would get to have an adventure and the husband and I could enjoy some time together and spend time with our child who is headed to college in August.

Here's the disaster: None of her grandchildren will want to do it. I am certain of it. She is going to have hurt feelings and the grandchildren will feel guilty. In the end, they won't go anywhere. These kids all have jobs, plans, friends, love interests, etc. None of them want to give up a chunk of their summer to deal with walkers, relatives they don't know, possible falls and sickness or whatever else might happen.

When I was 16-years old, my mother became a caregiver. She continued for the next several years with parents and other relatives. I was no help whatsoever. In fact, I wanted to run in the other direction. And, I did. Therefore, I cannot have any hard feelings about teenagers and young adults who do not wish to be put in this situation. They're all respectful and loving. Hanging with the oldies is not their idea of a good time.

Come to think of it, it's not mine either.

Comments

I've been overwhelmed with comments. So many people are living with versions of this situation.

The positive include: "funny," "honest," and "thought-provoking."
The negative include: "disrespectful, "bitter" and "sad."

My personal favorite comes from Sarah Crossman Sullivan, attorney and consultant. (In the interest of full disclosure, she's also my cousin.)

Be proud of the fact that you have chosen this life and this
time. You could've walked away at any moment and rightfully said, "I'm
done. These are not my parents." Instead you are choosing to fight
and figure out what's best. In these choices, you are doing God's
work.

A New Twist on Carry-Out Food

Why do people buy carry-out food? Personally, I do it to avoid cooking.

The mother-in-law bought a rotisserie chicken, plucked all the meat off of it and fried it in butter. Then she dumped a bunch of gravy on it. I didn't stick around to see how it was served.

The irony of this is I met some friends for dinner and ordered something fried.