Tuesday, March 7, 2017

 Mom awoke rather late again today. We sat her on the potty and I washed her down as much as I could. I changed her nighty, then Rob put her back in bed, where she fell deeply asleep in seconds. She argued in her sleep a bit with Ann, mom’s former caregiver in NJ. I walked in just at that moment and asked mom if Ann were giving her a hard time. But she didn’t remember either the dream or her reverie. Lorraine, our CNA, came a couple of hours later and helped clean mom a bit more. But mostly, we allowed her to sleep.

We’re all still tired today. Nonetheless, Rob and I did some laundry, vacuuming, and floor washing. Rob scrubbed the kitchen floor, which must eventually be replaced, as mom’s walker wore a path on it. It occurred to me that we could put the hall runner down once again, since mom is no longer walking. So I did. I also restored my special facial wipes and body scrubbers to the bathroom cabinet. Mom once reached in there looking for toilet paper and used the expensive wipes for her personal use. Since then, I hid them from her. I similarly hid our toothbrushes and hairbrushes to prevent mom’s indiscriminate use of them when she first moved here and was able to walk to the bathroom. Restoring the house back to its original order is a bittersweet job, but it’s keeping us busy.

Mom is in what was supposed to be the dining room. I had the chandelier installed several years ago in preparation for the transformation. But then, mom moved in and halted all such plans. Consequently, everyone of any stature has had to duck or watch their heads on the brass fixture that will one day safely hang over a dining room table. From time to time, I think about calling our carpenter friend, Jake, and asking for an estimate to knock down the closet in that room and redo the flooring. But it seems callous. Mom is still alive. She is still in that room, and it’s not a dining room. It’s mom’s room. I think it will always be mom’s room.