Monday, August 22, 2011


Having a lonely aging parent is very difficult.  I think it might weigh on my mind more than the runaway grandchild did.  A little bit of commiseration or a few suggestions on how to deal with it would help.  The interesting thing is that this is one of the issues with which we have dealt  that my husband, no spring chicken himself, is the most helpful..

After many many years of marriage, I still do not know which way the wind will be blowing for the husband for any given day.  Dealing with the brick wall has become second nature for me, but when I wake up the next day to cheerful chatty guy, I am actually sent rocking back on my heels.  I will deal with my own mood swings, thanks, and am getting rather good at it.  But when it comes to your mood swings, No Thank You,  take them with you and don't let that door hit you in the ass on your way out, etc.  Either that or I am gone. And I have lots of ways of doing that trick.

You wonder if there are time limits on these issues, and surely there must be, but even thinking that way invites a guilt trip.  (For me, at least)  And then there is the eleven and a half year old Cocker Spaniel, Henry, who is going through the same aging and senility and physical weakening issues in his old age.

 I was in the shoe store with Fran today and Ben wanted a certain kind of slip on sport shower shoe and Fran and the clerk were looking for the right size and I walked around the corner and Fran said, "Where's the baby?"  I said, "I don't know!"  Of course she was right there in the stroller next  to that huge scaffold high shelf reaching contraption and I had to walk her around the other end of the aisle to get to where Fran was, but for just that second I thought to myself, "Baby?"  I seriously think I am just that close to overload.

And speaking of Ben, the light of my life, he plays offense and defense and, pretty much, when someone needs to be tackled, the rest of the team just  stands around and watches Ben do it.


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