Last night Little Mama came into the family room where I was working and then stopped in the doorway. I looked up. Whats wrong? I asked. I dont know what to do, she said. She was so scared and so lost she was shaking. I asked her if she was ready to go to bed and she said that she got up to do that and then didnt know what to do to next. Thats the second time thats happened. Im watching her brain turn to mush daily. Anyway, I get her to her room and hand her a gown and robe. What do I do? she asked. I told her to take off her clothes and put on the gown. She went to her bathroom. And as she disappeared, I took advantage of the moment to move her underwear from where shed put it yesterday afternoon in a rearranging fit back where it belonged, then got her bed turned back. She staggered into the room, still lost. I put her to bed like a little kid and just like a little kid, the minute I tucked her in, her head came up. Three times. Once because she needed Chapstick. Once because she was thirsty, and once to find out what were doing tomorrow. Then she was out. I went back to the kitchen wondering how long she can hold out at this pace. The mental deterioration is steady. Then, the FIRST words I hear this morning is a complaint from Little Mama. THEY messed up her newspapers and she was in a snit. Didnt take more than a minute for me to see what was wrong. Took a lot longer then a minute to fix it. She had Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday papers FROM TWO DIFFERENT PUBLISHERS, all mixed up. I kid you not. Four days of The Daily Oklahoman mixed up with Four days of the Norman paper. yikes. And as I begin to sort it out and put it all back together, I have her grabbing stuff out of my hands telling me she hasnt read that part, and talking talking talking trying explain her way out of why it was a mess. In her head, she got all of it off the porch all at once. Instead of trying to explain what shed done, I just kept putting it back together. When I finished, I handed her the Sunday edition of The Daily Oklahoman, put the same one of the Norman paper together and put the rest in recycling when she wasnt looking. ODJ... and then the minute I was through, her dryer went off. (yes she was also doing her morning load of 2 towels, a washcloth and her nightgown) She flew up out of her chair and raced, and I mean really moving, to get it out of the dryer before it wrinkled. Then she was so shaky and breathless that I had to walk her back to her room, still clutching her load of clothes like the Holy Grail. Shes in bed. The clean laundry is wherever she chose to put it at that moment, and I feel like Ive hoed a long row of peanuts. sigh. And I just ate breakfast. Gonna be a long day... I can tell. Perfection is a word, not an attainable goal. If you strive for perfection you will be eternally unhappy that you did not succeed. Peace of mind. A grateful heart. The gift of compassion. These are goals you should hope to attain. Step away from YOU and look at US. We are one people. Believe it. Live it.
Posted on: Sun, 18 May 2014 15:12:44 +0000
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