Sistahs

Have I mentioned how lucky I feel to have a sister to share the responsibilities of parents/dog care? How much I appreciate her? I bought washcloths, but she just bought a dozen new t-shirts to replace the VERY tired ones he’s been using. Oh thank you, dear sister. We ended up at Bickford at the same time this morning. I went to visit with Dad first, since she was vacuuming in Mom’s room–we finally bought a good vacuum for her room, because with a dog, once a week just doesn’t keep the carpet clean.

Visits with Dad seem to go best when we start talking about things from the past. Today we talked about his high school–Brooklyn Polytech–and then that he could not start college after high school because his family had no money to send him. He started night school and was employed by a flavor and fragrances chemical company. Then the war intervened and he got his education first through officer’s school in the Navy, and then on the G.I. Bill. Dad’s children never had to worry about funds for education after night school, and we are all grateful.

Mom looked like she was getting ready for Christmas today. She was dressed in a green long-sleeved
t-shirt and a coral fleece vest. Hm. Hair parted in the wrong place, too, which bother me. Silly to be bothered but I am. I didn’t put her through wetting her hair and making it look “right,” though, which I often do. That’s really for me, not her. I want her to look like Mom as much as possible, I guess. We went outside to enjoy the crisp air, brilliant light and a small tree, blazing red in the sunshine. Mom doesn’t last very long standing anymore, so it was a quick trip out, and then back in for her to have lunch.

I have the afternoon free, then, a delicious prospect. I will work on a necklace I started yesterday, interrupted by a trip to the bead store for so focal beads. I had earned $20 off an order, but the total was still a LEETLE more than I planned. But there you are: the more choices, the better the outcome.

The last couple of weeks have been rough emotionally for me, in large part because I had fallen into a perfectionistic mind-set that hounded me that I had to do more more MORE, along with a sense that I was constantly failing. Of course, we all fail if the goal is perfection. I’m visiting my wonderful therapist again for a tune-up, and evaluating medication with my physician to see if a change would be helpful. Let me recommend to anyone with elder-care as part of life to consider at least a support group, if not a private counselor, if the going gets too rough.

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