Sunday, September 25, 2011

Beached

The 23rd of September recently passed, reminding me of how little I have grown. The autumnal equinox arrives only once a year, marking when the tilt of the Earth's axis inclines neither toward or away from the Sun. For my family, it means summer is over and beach days are done for the year. This year, I must confess that I did not take my mother-in-law out for a beach trip.

Since she has lived with us, I have made the effort to take her out on such excursions. Our first trip was exciting. The temperature was perfect, with a slight breeze, and the beach landscape was gorgeous. We found a quiet spot right by the water with barnacle laced rocks to sit on. We enjoyed the fresh ocean air and the rough touch of the sand, until, unexpectedly to her, water splashed onto her shirt. My sons had been swimming and frolicking in the water. Unaware of her aversion to getting wet, the boys had brought their splash game a little too close to our seating area.

Offended, and fearful that her health was in danger because she might get sick, my mother-in-law put a damper on the day's events. I extended to her a towel, had the kids pack up, and we pretty much wrapped up our business there in a matter of minutes. In the car I cranked the heater on high and bought her a hot coffee from Dunkin Donuts on the quiet trip back. In hindsight, she still recalls joyful memories of that first trip, especially when she revisits the photos of herself on the rocks, wearing a huge, light blue beach hat and movie star sunglasses. I had vowed to myself to never take her out to the beach again with the children. It was their day to enjoy and because of her it was ruined.

But during those first few years we were all just getting to know each other's temperaments and personalities. The following summer, against my own promise to myself, I decided to take my mother-in-law and the children (my husband was out of town) to the Cape for a couple days. It was the perfect mini-vacation. The hotel was luxurious, the beaches were beautiful, the weather was perfect, the food fantastic. Even the long drive went along quickly enough, with good conversation and moments of silence which did not feel awkward. During those moments I felt we really bonded and that our family was truly united.

A few weeks later she accused me of wronging her and overall being a bad person.

Once bitten, twice shy. Twice bitten, you're beached.

I did enjoy two wonderful beach trips with my children this summer. Swimming, exploring, sitting and talking on the shore with pizza, soda, and fried dough from the boardwalk. It was peaceful and fun, but a small part of me wished she could have joined us. That is, wished that I could have asked her to join us. I reassure myself that all is forgiven; everyone has their emotional outbursts; everyone gets fed up. But like the Earth I am neither inclined toward her, the symbolic Sun, or away from her. We have managed to live with each other since that fall-out, but as for me, no intense feelings of hate or love overwhelm me when I think of her. Had I grown spiritually, this would have changed to the later.

My next benchmark is March 20 or 21st of 2012. God-willing we will both be alive and I can only pray that I grow.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

A Little Bit of Advice

Dinner last night was at a friend's home. Well, our hostess is someone I do not know too well, and to me, is more of a good acquaintance. We see each other often since our daughters are very good friends. We all laughed out loud when her husband asked, "Is this the first time you have come to our home?" and when I replied, "No, I have been here so many times, just not inside!"

They had actually motioned me over inside on those particular days and nights -- for a quick chat over tea or even dinner one time when they were right about to start. But with this small, many times uncontrollable child by my side, I most often decline from social invitations. I was there as chauffeur, and nothing more.

When we arrived, my mother-in-law was out of breath. There were two sets of stairs and it was, for her, an incredible feat to climb them. She has never had knee surgery, but complains often of leg pain, and her excessive weight does not help contribute to that health issue.

So we sat, for what must have felt like 15 or 20 minutes, listening to her catch her breath, watching the antics of my youngest son, and hearing the music within the kitchen -- the tapping of the pot stirrers, the closing of the cabinets and refrigerator doors, the light clanging of the lids. The hostess's mother-in-law appeared to be cooking up a storm. I was impressed.

Later on in the evening, after the other guests arrived, the food was served, and an air of festivity pervaded the air, the hostess engaged in conversation with me. I complimented her on the delicious food, even asking her which dishes she prepared. She replied that she did not cook any of them on her own, that instead, each dish was prepared by both her and her mother-in-law, echoing what the elder had earlier told me -- they cooked with "teamwork."

Intrigued with this concept, I asked her to elaborate, veering us to the general discussion of living with mother-in-law. She, after all, was the only other person I knew who also did so, living with her mother-in-law for seven years. Having this one year seniority over me, I asked her for her best advice. She assured me that we were not alone, naming two other ladies in the city who also lived with their mother-in-law, one of them for thirteen years now. At that, in unison, we both gasped in admiration and then laughed.

Soon my mother-in-law waddled towards us, presumably to check on her youngest grandson, or maybe on my own activity. As she approached, my hostess looked seriously towards me, and in a soft, but firm voice told me, "Just be calm, calm, and ignore, ignore everything."

And that wrapped up my evening last night -- a great dinner and little bit of advice from a kind, wise friend.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

A Comforting Moment

Being a dispatcher and chauffeur is one of the fun aspects of my life. I really do enjoy driving around, and I especially love it when I pick up or drop off one of my children at exactly the minute I had previously planned.

On most Sunday evenings, my mother-in-law tries her best to go out and meet friends at a prayer group. Watching her excited about the weekly event, prepare, and dress up livens the spirits of the whole house.

Last week, we had planned that I would pick her up at 6:15, giving me time to drop off my oldest at work. I stopped by the local bakery to buy a cake for her to share. It took me a few minutes to decide -- a nicely frosted, two layer decadent chocolate one or a rectangular flat one topped with glazed strawberries, grapes, and blueberries. As I stood, my toddler was rummaging about, attempting to dump garlic bread and banana creme pies into his little push cart. After finally deciding on the fruit glazed one, I realized that we needed to run to the register and car if we were going to make it on time.

Out of breath, we came home, not even realizing that my husband's car was gone. It was only 6:14, but even she was gone.

The teenagers informed me that they had both left for somewhere a few minutes ago. Despite the routine, it could have been a shopping trip as far as they were concerned. I left the youngest with them and drove towards the original destination.

And there they sat, in the parking lot, waiting for her friends, who rarely arrived before 6:30. Eager for a distraction, she waved towards me. Apparently my husband was trying to do me a favor by bringing her for me.

My mother-in-law's friends arrived shortly after. They assumed that at least one of us was attending with her, because it was a different sight to see -- the both of us standing around her. It was a mix-up after all, the kids, the little one were all at home alone... In her shoes, it must have been a comforting moment, family and friends surrounding her. I admit, there is the latent feeling of exhilaration that for two or three hours I can walk around freely in my house. I can sit around, feel relaxed, and talk, maybe even sing, with ease to my children. Despite the formality she indirectly tends to keep us under, I hope that when I am old and unable to drive that I too might someday look around and see family and friends right there, surrounding me.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Social Security

After listening to the highlights of the GOP presidential candidates' debate last night, I kept thinking about the "monstrous lie" -- social security.  My parents actually survive on it.  They, along with my many aunts and uncles, carefully calculated the best date to retire based on it.  Their whole financial planning is based on that monthly deposit.

My mother-in-law, who has not worked to contribute to it, does not collect.  She has her own savings and she has no bills to pay living with us.  With the privacy of her own room and bathroom, all utilities, technology (she is very computer savvy for her age), transportation, entertainment, and food available to her, I feel confident in stating that she is all set.

Of course, nothing is perfect, but it made me consider the scenario that if everyone took care of their parents and in-laws (I would need to have a bigger house to include my own parents), and if in natural exchange the elders took care of the youngsters, we, in an ideal world would be rid of the necessity for daycare and nursing home expenses.  Ideally, with everyone helping each other in this multi-generational house, we would achieve a sense of safety, belonging and community, in other words, a sense of social security.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Footsteps

I hear the shuffling of her footsteps and it is 4:14 in the morning.  I rarely do paperwork this early in the morning any more, but due to the new school year starting today and unpaid bills needing to be sorted out, I thought I could wake up a little earlier to get things done.

Yet with the creak of of her bedroom door and the shuffling of her footsteps, I know I will be interrupted.  It will be just a few minutes of explanation and whispered exchange of updates.  She will tell me, once again, that she was not able to sleep (she yet has to understand that taking long naps during the daytime interrupts the nighttime sleeping pattern), and I will need to tell her why I am awake, though the stacks of mail and papers and ironing board covered with school uniforms might alone be the picture worth a thousand words.

At times it is frustrating-- the realization that there is no privacy when living with a mother-in-law, not early in the morning, and not late at night.  Phone calls and all conversations are open to every curious ear.  It is not the size of the house or the design of the house, it is just the way it is.

I'll smile when we talk and do my best to be happy to see her, once again.  This is how I would hope my future daughter-in-laws will greet me.  I'll just remember to give them more space to do what they need to do when it's my time around.