Category: Family

Posted on

Mom Has Slept Around This Year

Tie o’ the Day and I are actually feeling much better than we did yesterday, about our family’s decision to settle Mom in the Care Center. I haven’t been weepy today, and I know that’s not just because Tie is rockin’ it with the black and orange funk– although it is a snazzy look. Nope. We’re feeling more at peace about Mom because, by all reports, she’s feeling a little better about the situation herself.

Yesterday was not fun. Even when you know you’re doing the rightest thing you can do, it’s still tough to watch your mom cry. I can’t speak for anyone else in my family, but I can honestly say that there are moments when I feel like I’ve let Mom down somehow, even though I’ve done everything I can think to do for her, for as long as I’ve been able to do it. We all have. But when your mom’s crying, you damn well wish you could fix what’s wrong.

I know Mom is safe. I know she’ll enjoy herself where she is. That’s how Mom rolls. Her tears are not about where she’s living. She knows she’s blessed to be in a terrific facility, watched over by a compassionate staff. (And as an added bonus: Heck, the Atkinson’s will regularly come right to her new home to serenade her.)

Her tears are about how hard it is to handle the plethora of changes that have come her way the last couple of years. All of her recent life-changes make my own head spin. I can only imagine how those changes are making her 88-year-old head spin and zoom and cart-wheel. I’m sure she’s been feeling like she is no longer in charge of her own life. Unfortunately, that’s mostly  accurate. It is what is has to be.

Think of it. Mom was born in Oak City in 1930. She moved a spittin’ distance away to Delta when she married Dad in 1948. After that, she lived in the same house for 63 years. And then, just over a year ago, she fell and broke her hip while trying to put on her big girl pants. (Yes, that’s really how it happened.) Her life, as she knew it, was altered.

Mom had to leave her own home to live with my bro, Ron, in St. George– where we’ve stayed with her when Ron and Marie had to be away from home. (How horrible for me and Suzanne to have to spend time in St. George. And with Mom!) In the last year, Mom’s had sleepovers in Delta a few times. She’s stayed here with us in Centerville for a week here and there. She’s stayed in Pleasant View with my sister, BT and Kent, for days at a time too. For some reason, Mom thinks her kids are cool, so she’s had a blast every minute of everywhere she’s camped. But at this point, she needs to stop her galavanting. She wants to do all the rest of her sleeping in one town, and that town is her beloved, windy Delta.

Posted on

Small Place, Bigly Love

VW Bow Tie o’ Yesterday drove with us as we hauled Mom and her memories from back to Delta from St. George. Mom never turned away from her window during the entire drive. She loves the landscapes of Utah, and she had to point out every beautiful natural thing she saw– including a few deer. She told us stories about who she was with and what they did when she had visited some of those locales in her younger life.

Years ago, one of Mom’s sisters who lives “up North,” asked her how she could stand to live out in the middle of nowhere, where the wind blew all the time. Mom said something along the lines of “It’s beautiful. Why would you not want to live here? I’d never live anywhere else. And you have all that traffic up North. Why would you want to live up there?” Mom finds joy in every Delta dusty wind that messes up her just-done hair.

For those of you who don’t know anything about the Care Center in Delta, let me give you some insight about Delta that will help you understand why it’s the perfect place for Mom to live.

When I lived in Virginia and Maryland, when my “back East” friends would ask about where I grew up, I came up with the perfect way to describe how small Delta is. I told them that Delta is so small that when you’re born, you’re automatically related to half the population– and then when you get married, you’re suddenly related to the other half.

What does this description have to do with the Delta Care Center? Aside from the fact that the facility– and the care the staff provides– is outstanding, everybody knows everybody. It’s like home in that way. Mom already knows 99 percent of the residents of the Care Center, and they know her. They have been part of her life for all of her life. Likewise, Mom also knows the people who will be caring for her. They love her and Mom loves them. Trust me, she will be spoiled during her stay.

At the Care Center, every day is almost like a family reunion. In fact, when we walked Mom into the facility yesterday, she didn’t even get to her room for over an hour. Half-way to see her room for the first time, she saw someone she just had to catch-up with about all the Delta gossip. Mom immediately sat down by her. Soon someone put a plate of food in front of Mom, which she immediately ate– to give her energy to keep talking to her life-long friends, I’m sure.

Posted on

Now We Can Spill The Beans

I swore bandaged, broken hearts Tie o’ the Day to secrecy, but now we can tell you. Our little trip to St. George this week has been a secret mission. We didn’t want to say anything until the process was completed, but we hereby announce that we’ve packed up Mom and taken her back to Delta, where she will live out her next century in the Care Center. (It’s official name is different, but everybody refers to it as either the Care Center or Extended Care.)

Our family has seen it coming. We’ve worked hard to take good care of Mom for as long as we could. We wanted to keep this day from coming. Although we know it’s finally time for this, it’s still a hard transition for us and for Mom to make. It’s the beginning of Mom’s last chapter.

After she broke her hip last year, the best place for Mom to recover was with my brother, Ron and Marie, in St. George. Marie is the Queen Bee o’ All Nurses, and Mom’s doctors are in Dixie. Mom’s been pleased to live with Ron, and she was able to spend more time with her grandkids there. Ron and Marie have been more than generous to have her in their home. Ron says it has been a privilege to have Mom with them. We appreciate Ron and Marie more than words can hold. But now it is time for Mom to make her final move to a new residence.

About three years ago, Mom decided it was time to quit driving. She handed over her car keys without being asked for them. Of course, we had all been ever so subliminally hinting to her for quite a while that it would be a good idea to let the driving part of her life be done, for the safety of everyone involved. And then one day, out of the blue, she came up with the idea to give up her car keys. It was HER idea. Wink. wink.

That’s what’s been happening with this move. We’ve all hinted and hinted to her for a few months that it’s time for this change, and then VOILA! Suddenly, Mom had this brilliant idea that she should move into the care center. It was completely HER idea.

She’s been a good sport through her last couple of years of health adventures, although things have been bumpy at times– as is to be expected. She has missed her house. She has missed her Delta friends and family, and she is eager to reacquaint herself with her Delta people now. (But she will always be a bit lost in Delta without Dad, and without her best friend, Peggy Crane.) I know most of you are part of the herd o’ folks she has missed.

Give Mom some time to get adjusted in her new digs, and then feel free to give her a visit for a few minutes every now and again, if you so desire. You know how she loves to chat with her friends. You’ll most likely need to introduce yourself to her at first, but she’ll know who you are after that. She turned 88 last week, so she has 88 years worth of friends and family to recall, and that’s a lot of names and faces to keep straight.

She’s still spunky and irreverent in her playful way. And what makes our family happy is that she still enjoys her life. She exudes gratitude for her blessings– which, of course, she thinks of as all of us. Isn’t that a nice thought? My mom, Helen A. Wright, thinks of you as one of her life’s blessings.

And now, Suzanne’s going to drive us home to Centerville while I cry and wonder if we did the right thing for Mom. Which we did. But still…

Hardest. Day. Ever.

Posted on

Mom Has A Dozen Pairs O’ Half-broken Reading Glasses

Bow Tie o’ the Day has been kickin’ it around the couch with Mom today, although we lost Mom for a few minutes.

This is our first Mom-sitting visit at Ron’s and Marie’s new abode, and I didn’t know if Mom had changed up her routine since their recent move. While they’re away, Ron gave me two jobs: don’t break Mom, and don’t lose Mom. (These are the same two jobs I give him when he’s got her.) This afternoon, when Mom told me she was going outside for a walk to loosen up her hip, I just assumed it was part of her new routine in her new place. Mom has never had a wandering-off problem, so out the door I let her go ahead of me while I went into the kitchen to find the mailbox key. With mailbox key in hand, Skitter and I went out the front door to join Mom on her walk, and to pick up the mail while we were at it.

Lo, and behold!

Where’s Mom? We looked left. We looked right. We looked hither and yon. We looked around this corner, and that corner. We looked under cars and in bushes and in swimming pools. No Mom. No Mom’s walker. She left no bread crumbs for us to follow. She left no half-empty Pepsi cans for us to follow. She didn’t peel off her clothes and leave us a wardrobe trail. I put Skitter onto her scent, but Skitter smelled nary a sign of Mom. I was truly afeared.

I retrieved my phone from the house and headed back outside and up the sidewalk. I was just about to do a bit of 911 dialing, and Mom and her walker showed up on the horizon. She was, in fact, fine. She was, in fact, going through her new usual routine. Apparently, there’s a bench a ways up the street where she sits to rest her walker and her behind during her daily strolls. Unfortunately, the bench is not visible from the sidewalk. Now I know.

Anyhoo… All is well. Mom is safe. I am not inept. Skitter had a St. George walk. And to top it off,  it was CHRONICLE-PROGRESS day! That mailbox key made Mom’s day. She loves her CHRONICLE.

Listen to me when I tell you that Mom doesn’t share her CHRONICLE with anyone on Wednesday’s after it arrives. If she dozes on the couch and you try to sneak her CHRONICLE off her lap, she snaps awake and clutches that newspaper like you’re trying to steal a grandchild. If you try to touch Mom’s CHRONICLE the day it shows up in Mom’s mailbox, you will not lose just a couple of fingers. You will not lose just a hand. You will lose at least an arm and a shoulder and your spleen. And while you’re writhing in pain and spurting blood on the floor, Mom will simply open up her CHRONICLE and read the obituaries to see if she’s in them yet.

Posted on

You Can’t Get Away From Her. JOANN, I Mean.

Remember that early-1970’s Public Service Announcement right before the 10 o’ clock news began that said, “It’s 10 o’ clock. Do you know where your children are?”

Well, orange and black Ascot o’ the Day and I are often in a similar situation with Suzanne. When we can’t find her, we say, “It’s whatever o’ clock. Do we know where our Suzanne is?”  The answer is always the same: JOANN’s. Yes, here we are in St. George at 8:50 AM, and Suzanne is off to be at JOANN’s at the very minute it opens.

Come on! Is the St. George JOANN’s really any different from the one in Centerville? “Of course,” Suzanne will say, “There certainly is a bigly difference. The JOANN’s here will have at least two bolts of fabric different from what the Centerville store has.” I don’t actually ask her what’s so different about each JOANN’s store, because I already know her answer will be something that makes me think : “yada yada yada.”

Really, I don’t care that Suzanne spends what’s supposed to be our retirement fund at fabric and craft stores. It keeps her jolly, and it keeps her out of my hair for a few hours every now and again. I’m not stoopid. I know it really has more to do with her needing to escape my constant weird games and ever-present snappy attire.

So I’ll just sit here on the couch with Mom until Suzanne gets back and makes me and Mom and Skitter look at all the new treasures she bought. I’ll “ooh” and “ah” out loud at everything she shows us. And then I’ll promptly forget every bigly and teeny thing she pillaged on her JOANN’s dash.

Suzanne did mention something about how she’s finally ready to make me a cape, and so she’s looking for a cape pattern and cape fabric this morning. I care about that. Any mention of a cape for me will make me pay closer attention during the fabric show she’ll put on for us when she gets back from her spree.

Posted on

Guess Who’s In St. George Again?

Black-and-white Bow Tie o’ the Day paired up with my black-and-white Hawaiian shirt to go for an hours-long drive on these black-and-white seat covers in Suzanne’s car. We headed out to St. George to hang with Mom for a few days. She’s babysitting us and Skitter. Every now and then, Suzanne and Skitter and I need Mom to get us back in line.

When we arrived, Mom had us laughing within two minutes, and we haven’t stopped yet– even while Mom was eating her KFC chicken. It’s her Tuesday lunch. And I mean EVERY Tuesday she eats KFC chicken. Don’t forget the cole slaw, or she’ll send you back to get some. And get the largest size they sell. Mom’s got a thing for cole slaw.

Posted on

Bow Tie Can Tell The Future

 

 

Here’s what Bow Tie o’ the Day knows with perfect certainty: Suzanne will get home late from work today, because that’s how she rolls every day. Even with The Ultimate SewingBox waiting for her– which is her dream come true– she will still be the brilliant educator she is, and she will put children first. She pushes herself to excel at her work, with the students always foremost in her mind.

But when Suzanne gets home, she will open up The Ultimate SewingBox you see here. And she will be single-mindedly engaged in the task of filling up The Ultimate SewingBox with her sewing supplies– prepping it for her current list of projects. She will not pass GO. She will not collect $200. ( If you don’t get that reference, I feel really bad for you. And I feel really old.) She will not pay attention to me, nor will she acknowledge Skitter. For her, this whole The Ultimate SewingBox thing is her Christmas morning, as it should be.

For me, watching Suzanne hobby around is like watching a litter of puppies play. You can’t not watch them, and you can’t not relax and smile at how seriously they take their playing. The day Suzanne isn’t sewing or crafting in some way is the day she will no longer be with us. And you can be sure I hope that day never comes.

You know how we’re encouraged to have food storage in case of some natural disaster, or a lost job, or the invasion of green aliens? I think Suzanne has decided she needs to store fabric and thread and sewing machines in case of any of these Armageddons. She’ll be sewing a quilt top, while we’re all fighting our neighbors in the streets for the last of the drinkable water. She will not die with her boots on. She will die cradling a bolt o’ flannel in her arms.

I should probably also pack her a 72-hour kit full of sewing and crocheting implements to carry in the trunk of her car. It’ll make us both feel better about the catastrophic end of the world.

Posted on

Numbers 1 and 2

Bow Tie o’ the Day likes the fact that more and more days are chilly enough for me to wear long-sleeve shirts, cuz that means cufflinks will be around to spend part of the day with the bling. It seems like the ties enjoy sharing their limelight on the website.

Today’s Cufflinks o’ the Day offer a dog and a tree, and we all know how our mutts love trees. Male mutts mostly. But I have seen plenty o’ female canines use a tree.

Skitter is not one of them. In fact, I’m beginning to doubt if Skitter is even a dog. She will neither pee nor poop when we take her on walks. She will do neither at rest stops. She will do neither in the brush at the side of the road. I’ve taken her to parks where dogs aren’t even allowed, just to see if she would give it up in the name of breaking the law for the sole purpose of being a rebel. Nope.

I once drove to Cedar City and back to Delta in one day, with Roxy and Skitter in the back seat. Whenever I stopped at a gas station for drive snacks, Roxy jumped out and did her business. I’d have to drag Skitter out of the car, walk her to the back of the station, and wait. And wait some more. Skitter would just shake. Roxy’d get tired of waiting and go back to the car. Not one drop of anything ever came out of Skitter.

Defeated, we continued our day journey to and from Cedar. And don’t think for one minute that Skitter did any of her business at any point during our trip. We got to our Cedar destination, and still no #1 or #2. And there was not one Skitter drop or dropping on the way home either. She seemed fine about it, but I know better.

Where will Skitter do her thang? She would relieve herself anywhere on The Wright Block in Delta. But now that we sold the Delta house, the one place on the entire planet she will relieve herself is in our fenced-in back yard here in Centerville. That’s it.

When we go on vacation, Suzanne’s sister, Marjorie, comes to live in our house with Skitter for a few days. If Marjorie isn’t available to Skitter-sit, we don’t go. So far, Marjorie hasn’t let us or Skitter down yet. They both seem happy about their playcations at our house. Skitter doesn’t even shake, rattle, and vibrate around Marjorie anymore.

It’s a good thing Skitter and Marjorie enjoy their sleepovers here, because Suzanne and I are planning to go away for a week in October. We can’t take Skitter or Marjorie with us, but at least I’ll have ties with me. 🐕 🌳

Posted on

Wearing Shotgun Shells

Shotgun shells Tie o’ the Day is one of those ties your face has to be no more than an inch away from, in order for you to decipher what it is. Tie is named by its maker “The Buck Starts Here.” As in buckshot. Clever, eh? My neckwear collection is overflowing at this point, so a tie/bow tie has to have a little extra sumpin’ sumpin’ about it, to be worthy of me adding it to the population of The Tie Room. Clearly, I like Tie. It’s a surprise to have any kind of weaponry on a tie– let alone bullets.

Tonight, Tie and I have made ourselves a pot roast. I haven’t made a pot roast for two or three years, at least. Suzanne started eating a specific diet a few years ago, and pot roast is not on its list of approved menu items. Actually, she can eat the roast if it’s a beef roast, but she’s not allowed to consume the potatoes or carrots. And if you can’t eat the potatoes and carrots with your roast, you ain’t eatin’ an official pot roast.

I’m supportive of Suzanne’s new eating habits. She’s lost 65 pounds. I feel guilty if I eat certain things in front of her, so I try not to do that. And because I don’t want to tempt her into eating her forbidden foods, I wait until she’s not around before I cook the not-good-for-Suzanne recipes. Like pot roast. Suzanne is out at a work dinner tonight, so I am free. Free, I tell you. I’ve thrown food caution to the food wind, and built myself a feast. I’d invite y’all over, but I’m so over-hungry for what I’ve cooked that I don’t want to share it this time. Next time, maybe.

And after I eat, I have to make certain I get rid of all the evidence. There can be no leftovers in the fridge, and I will definitely have to air out the house. There must be no trace of an old-fashioned, meat-and-‘tatoes dinner.

I like carbs and fat. So sue me.

Posted on

O, Happy Day!!!

Tie o’ the Day’s bucking broncos are pleased to announce that today is a joyous, exciting day for Suzanne. It’s a day she has waited for since we filled up our garage with boxes o’ parts for assembling The Ultimate SewingBox a couple of months ago. We have finally wrangled a talented put-togetherer to build the bigly piece o’ furniture. Suzanne’s nephew, Colton the Cowboy, is coming to our place this evening to do the task. The instructions say it should take somewhere around three hours to put the beast together. I’m betting Colton won’t need that much time to do it. He’s that proficient at stuff like this. (I’ll post pictures of The Ultimate SewingBox in its various stages of assemblage.)

Whew! When the thing is assembled and all its boxes disposed of, we will be able to park a car in the garage again. But mostly, Suzanne will have what will surely be her fave piece o’ furniture of her life. I am not using hyperbole when I say that.

Yes, The Ultimate SewingBox will be standing in the living room on our new flooring. Some people have a fireplace as the centerpiece of their living room, or maybe a piano. We thought of having a custom built-in bookcase across an entire wall of the room as our focal point. But when Suzanne saw The Ultimate SewingBox, and when I said OK to it, the bookcase was off the plan list. The Ultimate SewingBox will fill most of that wall. If there’s room for nothing else in our living room except a folding chair for my butt, the television, and The Ultimate SewingBox, that’s absolutely cool with me.

Suzanne originally planned to put the behemoth in her craft room upstairs, but I used my VETO power on that idea. I would like to see Suzanne occasionally, and if The Ultimate SewingBox is in her craft room, I will never see her again. Thus, The Ultimate SewingBox will become the designated focal point of our living room. It will make me happy to see Suzanne a lot. And not only just to see her, but to see her feeling ecstatic. When she’s happy about something, she has this barely perceptible smile on her face, but you know the smile is there, because her cheeks go up. With The Ultimate SewingBox, she’s going to be so happy for so long that her cheek muscles will constantly be sore. That’s as it should be.

BTW   In regard to my DI hat, I don’t want you to be misled into thinking that Deseret Industries has a gift shop. Nah, the DI on this hat stands for Dauphin Island. When I saw it there, I had to get it. How could I not buy a hat with “DI” embroidered on it? Most of the world doesn’t have a clue about the existence of Deseret Industries, but I do. We do. It’s enough that a DI hat is amusing to the Utah crowd, at least.

And another BTW   I use the exact full name of The Ultimate SewingBox whenever I mention it, cuz the name makes me chuckle. It’s so definitive and audacious and important-sounding. 📦