Recalling the First Day

     As the seventh anniversary of my mother-in-law’s arrival approaches, I am trying to recall the many preparations made for that day, as well as the event itself.  My husband had traveled a great distance to retrieve her.  Because of her health, the distance for her felt even greater.  At that time, her knees were not in the best condition, so the demands of airport hustle and the long car ride from New York wore her out physically. 

     My children and I waited in the living room with great anticipation.  Thoughts of anxiety and optimism reverberated through me. Extra groceries were purchased. A nice welcome meal was prepared.  Furniture in my daughter’s bedroom, where they were to share a room, was rearranged.  Toiletries and a new laundry bag were set aside.  The house was clean and we were in full hospitality mode.

     Finally seeing her once again after years since her last visit filled me with relief and happiness.  The years had taken a toll on her.  She stood at the bottom of the front entrance staircase, assessing the climb, and taking each step slowly, determined.  She knew she was coming to her new home.  We knew she was adding to our home, our family.  As her distance inched closer to us, we realized the great importance of the reunion.  Indeed, it was life-changing and continues to be.

     My husband told me that during the car ride she had put on some lipstick and asked him how her appearance was.  She wanted to be well-dressed upon meeting her grandchildren, one of them for the first time.  Just as we wanted everything in the house ready for her, she, too, wanted to be prepared for the momentous moment.

     Of course, nothing could have prepared us for the total transition.  Medical issues, emotional and psychological needs, religious, cultural, linguistic, and personality differences that had never really been addressed soon surfaced.  That unforeseen deluge tested the initial longing and desires of both parties—to live happily together in the same home.

The Ebb and Flow of Living with Mother-in-Law

There are the victorious weeks, where we are sailing freely over life's beautiful ocean waves, where looking into her blue eyes I see a wondrous color with goodness as sweet as the salt air. And then there are days, dismal days and weeks where I simply want to sail alone, where I want to hear only the melodic crash of the waves, and not hear or see her.

One of my friends today told me that she could never believe I ever yell or get angry, and that she was so proud of the fact that I could live with my mother-in-law. I revealed the truth to her -- that indeed, I do have a terrible temper and that the only way I survive is by praying. I beg God for patience daily. This she could not believe, and laughed as if I was joking.

But I was not. In truth I can be a terrible person, with a terrible temper. A terrible person who might wonder at times why am I living this way and when will it end. Then, as quick as a wave recedes, another side of me grabs those thoughts, those words in the air and says, 'forgive me.' Those words are then repeated, a hundred times on many days.

On these days, I consider what triggers my angry reactions. She is no longer as snide and proud and venomous as she was in the beginning years, and yet somehow I have become not as patient, loving, caring. One day I identified the fact that I did not like her watching me cook and subsequently commenting on how I slice onions, for example. Another day, it irked me that she asked me what time I was leaving to drop off one of the children to an appointment. I needed to place myself in her position. Perhaps instead of being a back-seat cook she was actually trying to convey kitchen tips. Perhaps instead of being authoritarian she was actually trying to be concerned about my schedule of pick-up and drop-off driving duties.

Only God knows anyone's intentions. For now, I am taking long, deep breaths. I am preparing for an upcoming visit to spend time with my own mother. I am enjoying every minute with my husband and children, that gives me solace. And I am continuing to pray for patience, acknowledging that what I am doing is not only good and right, but also necessary.

Senior Spectacular

Next week, Worcester, MA area residents are in for a treat, the Senior Spectacular. My mother-in-law is especially looking forward to the event, priming herself for the walk expected for that day, the jaunt from the parking garage to the DCU, and then up to the exhibit hall itself. In a few days she will most likely have her sleeping pattern adjusted so that her nap-time will be pushed to the later part of the afternoon, as it is a morning event. She'll have her outfit chosen, walking cane set against her purse and new water bottle. Even her shoes will be ready to be slipped into, yet still half tucked under her bed so that her youngest grandson doesn't get tempted to try them on once again.

When I was a freshman in college, one of the most enjoyable evenings I spent was with my mother at my aunt's house -- a Tupperware party, of all things. Now I find my own self looking forward to this elderly event, making me wonder, am I a woman beyond my years?

In any case, the event is really spectacular. There are booths and booths of information about health, healthy choices, and local organizations that cater to the needs of seniors. We enjoyed complimentary coffee and popcorn, various samples, and advertising trinkets. Her favorite -- a collapsible plastic cup and a hearing health screening. My favorite -- the entertainment, live singing of old musicals and broadway tunes with puppets.

What I am sure she cherished the most were the conversations she had at each booth. The friendly smiles, the exchange of names and numbers, the information and small give-aways can only brighten up a person who normally lives a quiet life at home.

If you are a caregiver, like me, I urge you to investigate what your local community offers for seniors. Try a search on the internet. Our town announcement board had a huge sign for a health fair at the senior center to be held at the end of the month. Every June we attend an "Arthritis Symposium" at a local museum which includes a luncheon with a guest speaker, generally focusing on the latest research updates. Later there are workshops ranging from finances to gardening and exercising with arthritis.

Whatever you find, may it edify both you and your mother-in-law, and invigorate your relationship!

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.

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.