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Mother Gets Better Slowly

Mother gets better slowly

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

I brought Mom home Sunday afternoon. She needs me less often than she did in the hospital. Of course in the hospital she had one-inch tubes stuck in her chest and attached to plastic tanks. She still asks for little things: open this jar; close the windows; open the windows; put the fan in her bedroom window. She sleeps more than she did in the hospital, which is a good thing. Unfortunately, she is eating less. She doesn’t always hold things down. We visit the doctor on Thursday and if it isn’t better I will ask him about it.

I am still her child though, and now that I am the mother of young adults it just doesn’t bother me like it did 20 years ago. She asks if I remembered to empty the de-humidifying in the basement. I say I have and she responds, “I don’t need to worry about those things, do I?”

I say, “No, but ask if you need to.”

I baked something for her and after she said, with some humor in her voice, “Well, now I have to make sure you remembered to turn off the oven.” Instead of feeling aggravated because my mother doesn’t treat me like an adult, I feel … loved. I understand the compulsion to check to make sure everything has been done. I know that if I were a friend she would probably still check, but she try to be sneaky about it.   And I know from dealing with my sons that it really is difficult to stop watching out for, taking care of your child. For so long it was her job to make sure I remembered to do things. It was part of parenting me.

And now I am 47 and she is 73, and she is still my mommy.

To paraphrase Lewis Black, “How cool is that?”


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