Hello Neighbor, how are you doing?
I bet you are doing just great today, because you aren’t home. Your mother is upstairs though, and she’s yelling an awful lot today, but I have the air conditioner on high at the moment, partly because I’m giving that Chicken Pot Pie with Cream Cheese and Chive buscuits another go, which included lots of epic hot dishwashing action down here, and partly to drown out her raving.
You see, this casserole of goodness equals love. On good days when your mother isn’t home until late in the afternoon, and it has been gloriously quiet, I can do things like this. I can make things with love that take my full concentration. On bad days, they go awry. On bad days when your mother is really looking for a reaction, and throws my nerves on edge, I forget important things because my hands are shaking too much to read the recipe. Or she is making abruptly loud crashy noises that startle me, and I forget why I had the nutmeg in my hand… or that no, I did not add the lemon juice yet.
My feet hurt, but it’s okay, because I was able to do the dishes – I was able to concentrate on chopping large amounts of baby zucchini, fresh baby corn, garlic, onions, celery, organic carrots and chives. The kidlet was busy and not throwing full blown autistic tantrums today, Your mother wasn’t here yet. I was not afraid of cutting my fingers off. It was GLORIOUS.
She did come home- But I was whisking by then, and then I was working fat and whatnot into biscuit dough. I am not as nervous about losing fingers around a biscuit cutter.
Dearest neighbor – I have had an epiphany today. I used to wonder what happened to my brain. I used to be a reasonably intelligent woman who could form sentences and hold a conversation that made sense and did not bounce from topic to topic at the barest twitch of eyelash. Also- my hair was not so heavily streaked in silver, and I was not this fluffy. All of these things I notice… occur around the time your mother started to decline and harass us… and here I was blaming my poor child for it (in a loving, rather funny way) and his autism by proxy. Go figure.
By the way, the police were here again on Saturday, we had a lovely chat. Next time, I hope to have coffee made by the time they get here- But when your mother calls them, sometimes it takes hours for them to show up, maybe I will make a game out of it… see if I can guess how long it will take them to send someone out.
I wish you would come down for a chat too, I’m going to try to get some pamphlets about Dementia for you, and I have some great pictures to show you with your mothers keyscratchy hobby on our cars paint job. I have a feeling it wont make you stay home to watch her, or hire someone else to drive her around and keep her company though, but you know what they say… The more you know, and all that.
– Much love,