Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

My mother asked me to buy a refrigerator for her the other day. (NO... NO...NO... and if my siblings are watching, I swear I'll pack her up and send her to YOU if you buy her a fridge! Don't DO IT!!!)

;o)

All my life, whenever there's a refrigerator in my Mom's life, it's got this puddle of brown goo under the crisper drawers. Not IN the drawers, under them. This is a mystery that my sisters and I have pondered on several occasions. We grew up with the goo. But none of us have had the goo in our own refrigerators.

OK, I had the goo. But only after Mom moved in with me. I haven't asked my brother, but once she stayed at his house for several months. I wonder if HE got the goo. (I know she kept a bowl of cookie dough under her bed for several weeks while she was there.) As soon as Mom moves out, the goo disappears. WHAT IS IT???? What combination of stuff do you have to buy and ignore in order to get the Brown Goo.

I'm open to answers out there. Anybody have a clue about the goo?

Anyway... I told my mother in no uncertain terms, no fridge. It's back to the hoarding. If Mom had a fridge, she'd save every uneaten morsel of the food she hates so much. Her bureau drawers are filled with bread slices, hard as boards, butter pats and salad dressing packets as it is.... imagine what she'd do with a fridge....

Has it really been over a week since I posted? So much has happened.

Mom is becoming more and more confused. She has a hard time finding my office. She loses things. The clutter in her room is becoming a nightmare. In spite of all that, she's in pretty good spirits. She and her room mate continue to bond. Roomie even coaxed Mom to a BINGO game! (Lord have mercy! Mom's gambling!) Mom even won a game or two. Mom has also begun eating lunch and dinner in the dining room. She's made friends with a great lady who just loves Mom.

I've come to the realization that my time at the nursing home is coming to an end. My job is taking such a toll on me. It's not because of Mom. The job itself is impossible. If there were THREE of me, my work wouldn't get done. Just when I think I might have a few hours to tackle the workload, I either get sent home because of low census, or some customer service crisis requires "all hands on deck"--which means, ME out of the office again. My co-workers seem so good at handling the chaos. For me, I'm not sleeping. I feel ill most of the time, and by Sunday afternoon I'm a nervous wreck about the piles of undone work on my desk.

It's time for me to go. I talked to Mom about it a little. Her initial reaction was "don't leave me here!!!" She later came to my office and told me not to worry about her. I know she's afraid, but I think she's ready. She's made a lot of friends. So have I. I know that my friends will look after her.

I have so much guilt about the prospect of leaving the nursing home.

The other day my son's teacher called, he'd lost his science folder. When I talked to him about it, he said, "Mom, I've been looking all over for it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to add to your stress." Hello? He's NINE and he's worried about my STRESS!!! I've neglected my children so that I can care for my mother.

More guilt.

Who knows what will happen next? In the mean time, I've got a bunch of resumes out. My utopia? Mom comfortable and safe. My marriage tended to, like it's supposed to be. My children feeling like they have full access to their mother. And for me? Maybe a full night's sleep and a job that wasn't impossible. That would be Utopia.

You pray-ers out there? Keep me on your list, OK?