J went into get an endoscopy and a colonoscopy today so I took the girls. Honestly, I don’t like taking care of kids. It’s not that they are bad or anything, I take each child like I take each person. Some people I just don’t like. Same goes with kids. It’s the responsibility and the high energy that make me unmotivated to deal with children full time. And I’ve already done my time. Someday I may have grandchildren but until that day comes I am okay with not taking care of kids. Yeah, I kind of agree with the “it takes a village” crowd. At the same time I don’t think some one with a negative attitude (i.e. me,) really needs to expose kids to their perspective.
Still, sometimes I get an unexpected surprise from a child’s candor. Talking to my niece I learned that “bum” is an unacceptable word to use in conversation. That’s funny, I say it whenever I want to talk about my @ss. L told me that she calls her derrière “Steve”. And of course she was very solemn about it, causing me pause for thought. I agreed with her because she’s not my child so I go along with the kid’s parents generally when they have imposed rules. I don’t have to live with them, I don’t know what is going on daily. Respect the household rules and it makes things easier for everyone. So I told her that that was a good idea and I wanted to call my bum a name too. We had a laugh, she suggested names and I settled on Bob.
I stayed too long as I’m want to do at J’s house. I love his wife, she’s just a nice person and very generous. Unfortunately I stayed too long today. I headed home not knowing the situation that faced me when I got there.
Mom had called the police. Dad refused to come out of his room. (Did I mention he’s got Dementia? Did I mention I moved into my childhood home so my Mother could feel a little safer because my Father’s been going down for a while, since before 2003 in fact? No? Sorry.) We waited for the police to come while Mom covered in a paper johnny and latex gloves told me that my Father refused to get changed. I asked her what she hoped the police could do. I have experience dealing with the police and mental illness issues because I’ve been a member of NAMI in the past and colluded with the police in defining reasonable ways of dealing with people with mental illnesses and home issues. Typically in situations like these a mentally ill person is in an episode and the communication has lapsed and the person with the mental illness has a crisis going on. It is kind of tied into domestic violence because the situations are tense and can lead to abuse or violence. My Father has been very aggravated lately which could mean he is physically sick (this happens with people who have Dementia or Alzheimer’s,) or he is just getting worse. My Mother is the focus of his anger. It makes for a difficult living situation and she has told me more than 3 times that she’s going to put him in a nursing home but has never done anything about it once the crisis has passed. Needless to say I don’t really take anything she says or promises seriously anymore. Which is a shame but it’s forced me to learn how to dissociate from her and not expect things from her. She’s obviously having a difficult time dealing with so many things like his own personality change and the fact that her life as it was is not what she can expect it to be anymore.
I write all this because I want to avoid writing down the fact that I am not helping her anymore. I feel like a Bob. I was helping her until I realized that helping her is enabling her to continue make pretend that EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT. Like our family life. Did you know if you empty out the bottle of an alcoholic half way and fill the empty part with water that that makes EVERYTHING OKAY? Did you know that just ignoring the fact that your spouse screaming at the kids to SHUT THE F^CK UP, they can’t take kids talking because they HATE THEIR F^CKING JOBS, makes that fact go away and it doesn’t affect the kids any? It’s a kind of magic! I am actually laughing here. Seriously, I am. Denial is deeply embedded in our family. It is part of the reason I am mentally unskilled. I can’t get with the program because I can’t live with denial. On one hand it is what helped me become the black sheep of the family. On the other hand it helped me raise my 2 kids without lying to them and without abusive partners in my life screwing my kids’ confidence and minds. I mean their not perfect but they also are not me. They’re not Bobs.
So we will see what will happen tomorrow when she calls the nurse. Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you what the police did.
They talked to him. They listened to him. They got him out of his room and into the bathroom so Mom could finish his shower. Dad has a predilection for Martin Luther King Jr. And if you say that is “cute” I will punch you in the face. It’s only cute after the first 5 times. How do I know this? I’ve seen him approach people and tell them about MLK over and over. About the 5th time he interjects MLK into any conversation a person’s eyes will glaze over (unless that person has Dementia too,) and they’ll get the “ah HA!” look and they usually extricate themselves from the conversation. Don’t get me wrong. Dad is actually much nicer now then when he had his facilities. He isn’t abusive (except to Mom,) and instead of a scowl he always wears a dreamy kind of expression on his face. Unfortunately he has a kind of twisted racism thing going on. And he feels compelled to tell people who have any kind of darker skin tan all about MLK. My Father has been diving with MLK. He’s gone fishing with him. MLK told him not to go to Vietnam. MLK is the reason why my Father knows black people are intelligent (this is the twisted racism I’m talking about,) “He was the first smart black person I ever met!” my Father will exclaim. He also blurts out that he has an 180 IQ (my Father does, not MLK,) and he knew how to count to 1000 when he was 3 years old. He also knew Elvis and Ted Williams. He’s a legend in his own mind.
It used to really make me irate. Sometimes it still does but I try to Zen out and push it away from me. That is how I deal with issues that I have no control over. I distance myself from them and either look at them as if they are happening to someone else or I decide to deal with them when I feel the ability to not attach emotion to them. My emotions are very strong. They tend to frighten people. So I figure it’s good to maybe examine them before I invest in them. I can see a person I’ve never met before and immediately hate them and not know why. So I usually try to back off and appraise what’s going on before I express myself or commit to an opinion.
I think what the police did was distracted my Father. Everyone wore gloves. Father has C diff (Clostridium Difficile,) which is contagious. At least the MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus,) is gone. The policemen were a little freaked out, I could tell. And the feces upstairs and downstairs didn’t help the situation. They talked to my Father about MLK. Talking about MLK is the magic that makes my Father calm. He goes into his fantasy world where he’s the hero and everyone is happy and likes him. In a way I am glad for MLK. I bet that MLK Jr. never imagined that he would be the key to calming down a large man with Dementia. Here’s to MLK Jr.!
I tell you that is one hard working man and not even be joking.
You know what? I have a great idea for my Father’s birthday present. I wonder if I could get a stand up cardboard cutout of MLK Jr. and my Father standing together. My Mother would shit a brick but I bet you my Father would smile from ear to ear. Then again my Mother would never forgive me. What do you think?