I want my mum to come see me in a show(The Mother’s Story) on Mother’s Day. She’s seen it before, but of course, she probably doesn’t remember all that well. There’s a problem. My husband would normally bring her and sit with her, but this time he balked. In the past, he has always been there to take care of her when I’m on stage. It can be difficult I know and it requires a great deal of patience. He’s done more for her and with her than anyone other than me. Still, I’d rather hear how we can make it work instead of how difficult it would be for her. Cause that’s just me. And yes, I know it’s more about me WANTING her there versus if she would even miss it at all. Since it’s on Mother’s Day, his mum will be coming over, then there’s the baby… you get the picture. The logistics gets complicated.
It would be nice to have her own care aide at times. When you’re with my mum, it’s all about her, no question and it takes a great deal of mental energy. It’s like dealing with a 75 year old toddler. She wants to sit, she wants to go, she needs to go to the bathroom, well, nope, she doesn’t. It’s stressful. I know cause I’ve been doing it for 7 years. I’m the idiot that once managed to cook dinner from scratch with my mum barely holding onto my infant son at the kitchen table. Then hubby walks in and sees me feeding his son and mum eating dinner and gets the impression that I’m Madonna Superwoman.
DH was out of town for five days but while he was gone, we talked daily. Our conversations are hurried, he’s very busy. I say I’m fine, but I’m not. So as I was telling him that I was noticing that my afternoon activities interrupted McGrabby’s nap time (therefore he was snoozing at the end of the day and thus delaying his bed time but not his wake time), he was reciting that lovely well, it’s not all about you for the next 18 years speech. And then he got back late last night and today was crazy, crazy, with our last social worker visit (TADA!), audition (no, I didn’t get it) and rehearsal for the show on Sunday. Sometime during rehearsal the weather went haywire and he had attempted to leave the house to walk the dog after nap time, and then feeding time and had McGrabby in the Baby Bjorn. Then it started spitting. He goes back in, puts the kid in the stroller, gets it all kitted up for rain and then gets back out and the heavens open up. Back inside once again, the kid gets fussy, has more food, and promptly falls back asleep. By the time rehearsal was over and I had arrived back home (taking a leisurely stroll through London Drugs first), he was changing his diaper. Get this. The dog still hasn’t been out for a walk. He is flustered that he got so little accomplished; he couldn’t even finish looking through his mail. Really? Really? Oh, honey, poor thing.