I’ve been very preoccupied lately with the finances of my mother.  You know how efficient I am with paperwork and all that.  Not.  Anyway, finally did a budget of a sort and it’s apparent that she’s going to run out of my money in a few years if I don’t make some hard decisions.  The present agency charges at least a couple thousand every month or so and I have to find a cheaper alternative.  Or cut back on the hours.  I hate to affect her present companion’s employment as she is very good but I hate the fact that mum is running out of money more.   Also I have to find the time to get someone to clean out her storage locker and physically move stuff into a smaller one.   We went in a few years ago and labelled the keep, donate and throw away items, but have not returned (it’s way out of the way) to actually clear it out.  It will be more efficient to hire one of those come pick up my crap trucks.  Then her storage bill should be cut in half.

Also, I told mum’s hairdresser that I don’t want her hair relaxed or coloured any more.  Number one reason is that it’s extremely difficult for me to bring her out for appointments.  Mum can barely walk and I’m practically carrying her.  She does have a wheelchair but that does not make things any easier as the salon is tiny and frankly I don’t have the time anymore.  I’d rather spend the time visiting with her.  On the weekend, I doublebooked myself with her hair appointment and my BF’s daughter’s  2nd birthday party.  So while hubby and the Precious took the bus, I drove downtown and picked up mum and took her to get her hair cleaned up.  It’s been a mess.  Yes, they wash it at the home, but for some reason this year, it is continually matted, left for days and it looks terrible.  Yes, I’ve bought appropriate hair care items, but they always seem to get lost and short of me going there and doing it myself, it’s not getting done properly.  They don’t have anyone there who knows how to take care of African Canadian hair apparently and I’m sick of explaining it.  My mother (like her daughter) has always been vain about her hair and I know it’s important to her. When we arrived, I opened the door and she was kind of half leaning on me and I was focussing in on trying to get her over the threshold and I didn’t notice her pants had dropped to her ankles.  Lovely, eh?  A lady getting her hair done jumped up and pointed it out to me and she held onto the door and my purse so I could pick up her pants, and finally get her inside to a chair.  I actually told her that I was fine, that I didn’t help, can you believe it?  By the time, she was all finished, I was trying to get her coat back on and it wasn’t going well.  Kinda like trying to get a toddler dressed.  Mum’s face all screwed up and she said, “Don’t boss me!”   She was right.  I apologized sincerely and said, “Never mind, mum, it’s not that cold out anyway” and eventually we made it into the car.  I dropped her off hurriedly back on the first floor and by the time I got to the birthday party, I was wound up feeling guilty for “dumping” my mother off and not arriving with my family to the party earlier.  Now, it didn’t really matter to anyone, my kid barely noticed me as he careened around after a 4 year old girl in a bouncy castle, hubby was enjoying talking to his friends and my mum, well, she’s demented, so I doubt she’ll hold it against me.  But this is what I do and I just stress myself out not asking for help.  Of course, it is problematic when there is no other family member  to help mum out.

I knew this would happen one day, but I’m running out of steam trying TO DO IT ALL BY MYSELF at the expense of myself.  My Precious is teething and tantruming up a storm.  My back is aching.  What happens is that I rush around like a chicken with its heads cut off and I blabber and complain to anyone in earshot.

Kinda like my own mother did.  Yep. Good grief.

Gratitude.  My mother is still with me, I have an amazing child, my hubby still loves me and I have some amazing friends.  And I don’t have to do it all by myself.

Gobble gobble

We just had our Thanksgiving this past weekend.  So I suppose I should be in a more grateful state of mind, but I was quite moody.  We went to the island to spend a couple days with the in-laws.  I was a bit sad, I admit, I had my mum on my mind quite a bit.  As a matter of fact, the second I went to the store to get some flowers for my mother in law, my phone rings and it’s the home and for the umpteenth time they’ve found her on the floor of her room, agitated because she’s soiled herself.  (They call me every single time there’s an “incident”.)    These days, the phone calls are a regular occurrence.  I dread seeing the number on my cell phone.  Is she dead, is he injured, is she in the emergency room?

I’m stating the obvious, but when you have a kid, it really highlights the importance of family.  You know, having a grandma and grandpa to spoil your kid with lots of attention.  My husband has always had a real tight relationship with his parents and we spend as much time with them as possible.  Not that his family tree is perfect or anything, but it certainly underscores my dysfunctional, broken family.  That’s nobody’s fault, it’s just the way it is.   I’ve never had a great relationship with my family, as in actually ENJOYING any length of time socializing with them.  Being able to confide in them.   And now that I can enjoy watching my son interact with his grandparents, well, my mother  is demented and the other members of my family are miles away and unable or unwilling to be a part of my life.  And I get tired of carrying it all around.  I get weary.  I’ve dealt with the caring for my mother for so long and I’m used to it.  Her latest slide downward though is hard to handle.  Hard to believe but I actually miss the days where she would come over for dinner once a week and DH would tease her about  which group Burton Cummings use to sing with  “The Who.” mum says.  “Yeah, mama, that’s what I’m asking  – WHO did he used to sing for?”  “THE WHO?!”  She’d wander around hiding things and dusting the blinds with the Swiffer,  She have a beer and I’d have to lower her down onto the toilet and pull up her pants for her.  Now she sits in her wheelchair and repeats, “Hey” or other phrases over and over again.  She is off any mental health meds, so now I can actually see the vulnerability in her eyes.  I can SEE she’s lost in there somewhere.   Her one front tooth has to be pulled and her dentist wants me to go in and help convince her to let him do it. Good times.  Her hair is breakingoff and I’m going to have to get it cut – which on the surface doesn’t sound like a big deal.  Unless you’re a black woman who has always been vain about her hair.

We went to see her when we got back, DH dropping the kid and I off so he could go pick up some milk.  The Precious has been in a bit of mood lately,so he decides he doesn’t want to be there without his daddy, so now I have him screaming and crying to leave and my mum yelling, “Hey” at me every five seconds.  If I take my focus off of her for two seconds, she gets aggravated and yells out and the kid wants to go to the elevator.  The closer I get to her, the louder the Precious yells and the further away I get, the more my mother yells.  Lovely.  Eventually DH shows up before I lose my mind and he entertains the kid so I can feed my mum her dinner.

Later that night, DH decides to pick on me about the paperwork I have sitting on the dining room table  as we are preparing to sit and have dinner.  You know, leftover turkey and etc that I’ve cobbled together.  The first time I haven’t made a a turkey and had my mum over for Thanksgiving dinner.  Long story short, I walk out. You heard me.  I WALK OUT.   DH bitching at the whole time.  I’ve crammed my mother’s summary of account papers into a bag (apparently the trustee board want to know why her assets have dwindled so much) and I drive to a nearby Starbucks.  I don’t want anything really, but I have a green tea and pay a couple of her bills and contemplate not going home.  I contemplate why after 15 years, my husband still expects me to answer to the question, “What’s your problem?” or “What’s wrong with you?” if I’m in a bad mood and snap at him.  We’ve had the conversation more times than I care to recall. I go back home and we bicker some more, the kid this time being tucked safely in bed. I don’t want to fight but I’m done hearing his complaining about things that don’t really matter anyway.  DONE.  As in if I start to feel pushed, I will PUSH AWAY FROM WHATEVER IS GIVING ME SHIT.

In the end, he finally finds his compassion  and asks me from his heart what he can do.  And I break down and sob that I miss my mum, that she was one who tried so hard to keep her family together, how she worked hard to make holiday meals a special time.  I pretend that I can handle all of what’s happening but I just can’t do it anymore.  That I want someone else to take over.  That’s not going to happen, of course, but I’m weary.  I suppose a part of it is also that she’s only going to get worse, not better.  And this could go on for years.  And yes, sometimes I secretly contemplate the idea of her just dying in her sleep, if only to end the constant demands of managing her care.  Watching her deteriorate.   I don’t want her to die.  I don’t want her to die.  But I can’t fix her.

I can’t fix her.

When I start to feeling like I’m losing it, I start dropping the balls that I’ve been juggling and I just want to go hide somewhere.  Or run.  Or eat.

Life goes on

Is it just me or am the only one who keeps forgetting things? After our return from TO, we were supposed to go to my mum’s care home for an evening BBQ and we just plain forgot about it.  Both of us.  And we had just been there the day before and been reminded.   I’m like hey let’s go for a walk around the block we have nothing to do…  duh!    Mind you, we were a bit jet lagged. It’s unusual that we both forgot we were supposed to be somewhere else.

Then yesterday, we’re getting ready to go help out a friend who needed someone to watch the kids and I’m packing up the kid’s things, put milk in his sippy cup, and you guessed it, leave it behind. Earlier, I decide to have oatmeal, put it on the stove, decide to get to some emails, and you guessed it, burnt the heck out of my pot while I’m sitting two feet away.  This morning, DH found a piece of fish in the oven that I was baking for my son’s dinner while I was making his breakfast…two days ago.

Okay, something has to change here.  Not quite sure what, but something does.  For instance, my waistline.  Oh boy.    The only thing that makes me feel better is that during hubby’s stay at home, he’s forgetting right along with me.  It’s the damn multi-tasking.  I often do two or three things at once and then with hubby at home, he’s asking me this and that, and the kid needs this and that and ohmigod, we gotta get out the door again.

And speaking of going downhill, my mum’s condition has gotten a bit worse.  I’ve written about it before, this losing her in bits and pieces.  The second I got off the plane last week, I get a call from her dentist saying he may have to pull her one and only front tooth as it may be giving her pain.  So far, I can put off that decision for a bit because there’s other pressing matters.    Two days ago, she fell again and this time she sustained a cut below her right eye and a cut above her left eye.  We went to see her right away and as we get off the elevator she’s walking down the hallway with  a staff member and her wheelchair is sitting there in her room.  Sigh.  I had just told them to keep her in the wheelchair as much as possible.  Tears are flooding my eyes as I try to wipe off dried blood from my mother’s face and hands.  She’s fine, I’m barely hanging in there while I talk to the staff.  They do not have a protocol to just restrain her without doctor’s orders and approval from me, so I’ve given them the okay to put a lap belt on her to keep her in a wheelchair.  They keep talking about her right to walk, but we reminded them that she is not capable of understanding the consequences of her walking unassisted.  And since they do not have the staff to dedicate to her one on one care, then it’s impossible for them to guarantee her safety.  I just can’t take any more phone calls reporting her falls anymore.  I’m not saying they’re being neglectful, that would mean they were ignoring her on purpose, but at the best of times, there 3 care aides, 1 leisure activity person who is wrangling a group of seniors and one nurse on the entire floor.  Yes, I’ve also asked them to walk her for exercise as often as they can.  On the bright side, there’s also residents who are in worse condition than she is, so I need to be grateful for what I do have with her.

And speaking of gratitude, my relationship with hubby is improving.  We’re actually laughing together and that’s always a good sign.  His co-parenting has opened his eyes a bit.  Now he’s understanding the the growing demands of a toddler can be a little chaos inducing and mind numbing at the same time. The big revelation?  That my days are actually quite full even though I don’t have a “job”.  And he’s just as tired as I am at the end of the day.   I can tell he’s itching to get back to work.  What?  Cleaning the house, walking the dog, making meals and cleaning up after the kid not mentally stimulating enough for you?  What – you mean you can’t work out and walk him around the block on his bike at the snail pace he likes to go?  Mind you, someone has to bring the big bucks home.   The Precious is crazy for his daddy, so he’s all over him all the time.  Hah!  Gotta go get a pedicure, babe.  See ya!


The in-laws have come and gone and as usual, I am expected to fit my life around others. I’ll spare you the long rant where the same courtesy was not extended to me.   I still had some transcribing work to do but of course, hubby insisted I sit and socialize.  I really do enjoy my in-laws, but sometimes I wish I could just check into a spa and not come out for two days.  We did enjoy a night out, dinner and a movie, but of course, DH rushes back home the instant the movie is over.  I find myself irritated and brooding.  I was reading Eden’s blog and came across this line:

You are not less than anybody else. You are not less than anybody else.

It was in her post How to Live and so I highly recommend reading it.    Sometimes the negative voices in my head come back to haunt me in the wee hours and I look for encouragement wherever I can.  And because I had a couple of religiously motivated people show up at my door this morning so that I could declare I was a Buddhist I shall also offer this (the whole article can be find here):

“Cherry, plum, peach and damson blossoms all have their own qualities, and they manifest the three properties of the life of the Buddha without changing their character”.  Simply put, each one of us contributes our own unique qualities through the role we play in society. The Daishonin uses the example of the cherry, plum, peach and damson flowers to make his point. The cherry flower is renowned for its beauty; many people enjoy seeing the cherry blossoms in the spring. The plum blooms in late winter–while other flowers usually bloom in the spring–and it, too, is known for its beauty. According to an old Chinese tradition, peaches are said to bring longevity and ward off evil. The damson flower’s appearance is different from the others, but it is associated with assiduousness and perseverance.

Attaining enlightenment does not require us to become anything other than a human being; it is recognizing our own true value and worth exactly as we are. By being true to ourselves, we can become happy. Only we know what it is that makes us happy and only we know when we are making efforts to make ourselves happy. Comparing ourselves with others only leads to a sense of inferiority or superiority. By focusing on surpassing our own limitations—without focusing on what others are doing—we will find it much easier to grow. No matter how much we try to become like someone else, we can only be ourselves.

At a time of insecurity and change (and a whole lotta rain), I’m struggling to rest easy in the knowledge that I am enough.

Expert opinion

A couple of nights ago, I was waiting for the Boo to go down for the night so I could enjoy my sushi in peace.  I was feeling a bit better from my cold but I was still a bit tired.  Then I get a phone call from the home.  Mother had fallen down again but this time she fell on a plate she was carrying and had sustained two large lacerations under her chin.  I put on my coat, grabbed a hot chocolate at Starbucks and went to meet the transfer ambulance at the emergency room.  I walked in just as the ambulance attendant were briefing the incoming nurse.  She was alert and chipper with a huge bandage wrapped around her chin and head. She was even laughing.   Her top was soaked in blood.  By the way, I saw the emergency room doctor we saw a couple months ago and said a quick hello.

It took 12 stitches to close up the cuts and mum handled it quite well.  Of course, I sat in the waiting room while all the stitching was done.  I changed her into a hospital gown as her top was soaked and drove her back to the home.

I called my sister the next morning to let her know what had happened.  She wants to know what the action plan is.  What?  An action plan?  Other than perhaps changing her shoes as the nurse requested, there was no action plan.  She stumbled and fell on her plate.  I don’t know what more can be done since the last time we had a care conference, all medical issues had been addressed and her medications were decreased.  She has improved in both her mobility and balance since then.  I also hired a companion 3 days a week at a cost of about $1500 a month.  All of the medical information was forwarded to her and discussed over the phone ad nauseum.

Then last night, my sister calls and puts her friend on the phone who is some sort of psychiatric nurse or something.  She basically said my mother should be in bed all the time or strapped in a wheelchair or else all we could do was pray nothing happened to her.  What the FUCK?!  I tried to patiently explain to her the reality of taking care of elders in a home and that restricting mobile dementia patients was not exactly quality of life.  There is one nurse and two f/t  care aides on the floor of 30 residents.  They are also supplemented with  a couple of people from leisure services for activities during the day.  Then she suggested I could get advertise for volunteers to take care of her all day long.  Volunteers.  Why, yes, the home does have approved volunteers who visit the home and serve tea and coffee to the residents.  Most of them don’t speak fluent English and none of them are trained to deal with dementia patients.   I got increasingly agitated and then asked her to put my sister back on the phone.  I then proceeded to tell my sister exactly how pissed off I was.  Her response, in the condescending defusing tone that you take with irrational people that she just wanted me to hear someone else’s (read: expert) take on the situation.  Guess what, I’m the fucking expert now.  Then she got off the phone.  Hubby was around to hear at least half of the conversation  and he just about had a fit – well, no, he did have a fit.  Which I kinda hate cause I don’t need his fit taking over my fit.

I have no intention of writing her a long email going into graphic detail about how much I don’t appreciate the opinions of her friend who has absolutely no idea of what it takes to take care of my mother and that thinking that restricting my mother’s ability to move would be in her best interests.  I believe that emails are not the most effective way to communicate sensitive issues.  In fact, it is a bit passive aggressive and should only be used as a last resort.  People tend to remember only what they want to in them. Don’t want mother to fall down?  Don’t let her get up at all!   Great idea.  My mother has a walker, but she can’t remember to use it and she does not have one on one care all the time.  So that’s why I hired the companion.  I can increase the days she works though.

I understand that people care and that people have their opinions.  I don’t even mind hearing them most of the time.  But when someone implies well, then since I won’t listen to her all we have is prayer to rely on – THAT PISSES ME OFF.  #1) don’t put someone else on the phone if you have something to say  #2) if you had any faith in prayer at all, then you should feel confident and relieved.  #3) you have no idea what  you’re talking about because you can immobilize YOUR patients, but you have no right to suggest immobilizing my mother.  In any case, I need to speak to my sister on the phone  and when I calm down, I will.  I will also remind her that she can take over my mother’s  care any time she wishes to or demonstrate that she has faith in my ability to do the best I can.   I understand that she feels helpless and wants to have input.  I get that, but she has to demonstrate a little fucking common sense.  She can’t micromanage the situation.  I am the one who gets the calls, I am the one who has to go the emergency room.  Sometimes I wish she could have moved here because I would have made her jointly responsible and then she could take over and I have a break.  I wish I could share responsiblity but since my sisters are 3000km away, that’s not going to happen.

I just had to get that off my chest.  Thanks for listening.

A very nice Christmas

It was a lovely Christmas!  We picked up a $15 dollar tree from Home Depot – I love a good deal – and both the kid and the dog behaved admirably.  I managed to decorate it and the house a little bit, hubby put up the outside lights and tada! – the Precious was suitably impressed.  DH’s parents arrived with loads of presents, the most outstanding being a hand made rocking horse.  And yes it was a hit!  It’s huge and at first I thought the Precious might have been a little reticent but he checked it out, was lifted up for a test drive and he totally got into rocking it.  I had tears in my eyes.  I know.  I’m a suck.

We also had DH’s aunt and uncle there who had flown in from Edmonton.  They stayed at  a local hotel up the street.  More presents for the kid.  He was pretty overwhelmed by all the activity and some teething pain so we had a few sleepless nights, but overall it went very well and everyone had a good time. We did picked names for a gift exchange and then we also had a Kris Kringle gift type of thing where you buy an inexpensive gift, we take turns choosing which package we want and we can steal someone’s present if we like it.  I made out like a bandit with a luxurious cream coloured throw.

The one thing we did differently this year was that I had our Christmas dinner catered.  Ah, shock!  Horrors! A break from tradition!  I saw a Groupon in my email for a Christmas turkey dinner  from a high end hotel all boxed up with all the trimmings (for 6 – 8 people) for half price, so I snapped it up.  It was a great price and I thought, great, no more hassles!  Stress free!  I’ll still make the candied yams and my MIL will stake make her roasted potatoes, but other than that, we’re off the hook with all the cooking!  I chose to the Christmas Eve pickup without checking with anyone first.  MIL and DH decided that no, I should have ordered it for Christmas Day pickup.  Mmm, I would have preferred to know exactly what I was getting the day before but whatever.  I was quite annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm for what I thought was a great idea.  I think my MIL was worried that the meal wouldn’t be good, but the hotel restaurant had a great reputation.

I tried to change it but they wouldn’t as the deal was sold out (500 orders) and no changes could be made.  Luckily, we know someone with pull who works at the hotel and she got it changed for us.  There has never been such a calm Christmas Day at my house.  No rushed thawing of a turkey in my bathtub,  no hot oven for 6 hours in a row, blah, blah, blah.  Hubby goes to pick up the turkey dinner, we follow the instructions it came with – 90 min in a 350 degree oven with the foil on it.  We did that, took it out, put everything else in to warm up for 30 min – we’ve got it all set up, everyone is ready to eat and….. IT’S NOT COOKED.  It looks cooked, but there’s still blood running out when you cut it.  GREAT!  Frankly, it could have stayed in the oven 2 hours and it still would not have cooked correctly at that temperature, it was a 15 pound turkey!   The meat thermometer wouldn’t work because it was out of the oven too long so the correct temperature was not reading.  Hubby starts muttering.  Auntie and I put it back in the oven, confer with whispers and nodding (and chanting) that we need to turn up the heat, and leave the foil off.  An hour goes by.  Hubby is fuming.  We take it out and….. IT’S STILL NOT COOKED!!!  Hubby is now cursing.  It was about 90% done but it’s got that rubbery texture to it, you know what I mean?  So, we slice it anyway and stick it in the microwave cause everyone, including my mum, is ready to eat.  That finally did it and miraculously, it did not dry out!  In fact, it was delicious!    Everything else was great.  We even had a pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream.

The next day we were walking by the hotel and my MIL had to go to the bathroom, so we stopped in and I saw our friend.  I told her what had happened with the turkey and she said that a number of people had called with the same problem.  Apparently we had just received the batch of turkeys that had been done in a bad oven or something. Rats!  Oh, well, it all worked out well and I’d have to say I’d do it all again.  However, I would finish cooking the turkey an hour before it was due to be served.  If it gets dried out, well, that’s what gravy is for.

Courtesy of DH and the family, I even slept in and enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet. Perfect.  Cocktail of the season was a lemon drop martini.  I had a few (ahem!) and they were delicious!  I went all out and bought Limoncello and rimmed the martini glasses in sugar.  Of course, I paid for all this drinking and running around, though.   A couple of days ago though I did get sick with a cold and had  Neo Citran and Nyquil became my new cocktail.  That throw came in handy as I huddled on the couch shivering.

I’m feeling much better, all’s quiet here and DH is off for a bit.  But of course, with us, drama is never far…..

Bits and pieces

I’ve been feeling pretty weepy this past week.  Not sure if it’s the fact that the Precious is almost one year old,  hormones, long lost friends or that my mother has fallen down twice this week.  I took the kid up to see her on Wednesday and she was sleeping.  I took the opportunity to talk to the staff who definitely noticed a decline in her lately.  Then she woke up and came out.  Her left  eye was puffy and badly bruised, the white of her all pink.  I was struck by her fragility.  My little man reached out for her and grabbed her finger when she said her usual “Heyyyyy!’.  He knew her and looked into her eyes. She could recall his name but not mine when I asked her.  I was so overwhelmed, tears flooded my eyes and I struggled to keep it together.  I mean she knew who I was, she just couldn’t retrieve the name. I had spoken to a physical therapist earlier this week who had suggested a walker, but when I got there, there was none.  Since she fell and split her lip I have been all over the staff making sure they follow through in a timely manner.  So far they have been extremely cooperative, but it’s times like these that make me want to get ugly.  I want to start yelling, because I can’t fix  her.

I asked the staff to ask the doctor to call me on my cell.  We talked and I asked about if a CT Scan or MRI would help give them more information, but the doctor assured me that she had not suffered a concussion when she fell, though it was possible she had had mini strokes. Apparently that is common with dementia, however it would not change any treatment.    I gave her some further information like lately she has been unable to follow simple direction even with physical prompts and she attempted to drink from a paper bag containing a piece of cake.  She suspected it falling was due to mental health medication and she would do something about decreasing it.  Of course. I left the care home barely holding it together.  I felt so helpless.  I chanted all the way home.  Had to take care of the kid.

Damn antipsychotics.  They had changed her meds due to her “becoming wild” – they didn’t inform me however) and now she trips and falls because she has no balance and shuffles.   This tinkering to find the right dosage may be standard protocol, but as you know with every drug, there is a side effect.  I’ve been down this road with her before.  One drug that can make her mentally sharper  started to deteriorate her body until she could barely swallow food.  Another drug made her wander off while I was changing in  a Sears dressing room.  It took an hour to find her and luckily she hadn’t left the mall.

I can’t bear to see her lose bits of herself.  The danger of her falling and breaking a hip is quite high and if that happens, what life she has will turn to shit and I’d rather she just die than fall apart bit by bit.  I know she’s not ever going to get better, but the life she has had, such as it was, was good enough to have a beer, share a laugh and walk in the sunshine with us.

I had two auditions  yesterday.  Of course, hubby is away on business.  It happens every single time.  He goes away and I get super busy.  I got a sitter in and managed to make it through the day, but I was so distracted.  Good parts, but I couldn’t care less about booking them.  Of course, they shoot when I’m supposed to go to San Francisco with DH.  Sigh.  Believe it or not, I’d rather go away.  I want to get on a plane with my family and just change scenes for a while.  As some of you may know, it’s not exactly a cakewalk travelling with an active kid, but I was really looking forward to it.  I need to hug somebody.  She knows who she is.

Last night, I sat on the edge of my bed and had a good cry.  I didn’t want to go to bed.  I just wanted to weep.  Cause today is another day, I hear the Precious babbling his morning song, and I will pull on my armour and once again, stand guard for my mum and take care of my son.