This morning I've got nothing in particular to cuss and discuss. I'm set to have lunch with mom (hey...it's Friday) and I'm going over early to pull out her Fall/Winter clothes, since they are in her storage unit. She wears one of her same three outfits every day since they are "familiar", and my sister and I plan to burn them once we can get her out of them, and into something else "familiar". You can just imagine how scruffy these look by now....totally worn out. If they didn't look so crummy, hell, she could just keep 'um, but I just can't let my previously well dressed mom look like a street person. It's totally MY issue--she doesn't care or even know how she looks--but I do, and somehow I've got to find a balance in here where she feels comfy and familiar, but not bag lady.
If I'm really honest about it, it's that watching her slip into oblivion is just rocking my world. And even though she and I have had our ups and downs in the past, that mother-daughter tie runs deep. At least for this old crusty broad it does. I made a promise to her long ago that I'd keep her the way she'd want to look--hair done, nails manicured, fresh and clean, waxed with whiskers plucked, etc., and a deals a deal. I also have to be sure she never goes on life support or gets resuscitated. She told me she'd come back and haunt me if I did. And she would, too. She still thinks, despite my efforts to the contrary, that when she's ready to check out, I can just hand her some pills or "give her a shot".....I keep reminding her this isn't Sweden. She still doesn't get it.
If she's really adamant that she wants to keep her old stuff....awww hell...I know I'm gonna let her....but I m-i-g-h-t hide them for awhile.
My sister just called, she's sick, and can't come help.....oh, crap....
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