COMING TOGETHER--61

Now it is Monday. The weekend is over. We took laundry to the laundromat, went to have Mom's nails done, including her famous toenail, came back to the apartment with the laundry and mail. I slept for 4 hours, which is unusual for me. It's a long time to sleep and I needed it.

Now it is 4pm. Mom is putting away her laundry while I type this. Things are going along at work; I will not be allowed to have more than 24 hours at work, which is fine with me. It's almost like being retired yet having money coming in.

Right now, this is a good afternoon.

Mom and I ate well, so the evening has gone well. This is very nice and relaxing.

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Now it is Tuesday and we have not had a good day. Mom lay in bed for 13 hours, not sleeping, not getting up. I think she's depressed, her eyes wandering around the ceiling. It may be an attribute of old age to not have anything to look forward to; maybe it is an underlying depression which she does not have the energy to fight off. In any event, this made me mad at her.

So I decided to deal with my frustration against her by leaving her to herself. I left the apartment in a hurry. I left her to herself. My brother's wife called to invite her to a Mother's Day lunch on Sunday. It was that call only that got her out of bed. Then she wet her bed.

I have to work Sundays, so I refused to driver her over to my brother's for Mother's Day. She said someone else would. After I came back from exercise, she was out of bed, dressed for a trip to WalMart for a supply of feminine products. When we came back, she was in a reasonable mood.

I got a nap, got up and went to get pizza. Mom ate well and we watched the Ranger game until the Rangers fell too far behind. Now Mom is watching a cooking show and I am in here, typing this. She wants me to go back in to her room to find something on tv; to me that's selfish. She wants to take my time away from myself. I resent this. I think it's really selfish but maybe this is normal dynamic in relationships. She does this routinely and I despise it.

Maybe this thing of trying to talk me out of my own life is a trademark of loneliness. Whatever it is, I don't like it--she does. So I am refusing.