30 Letters in 30 Days...Day 29. the person you want to tell everything to, but are too afraid

Dear Mom,

There's so much I want to tell you but I know there is so much that you would either not understand or you would disapprove. So I never told you.

I want to tell you, first, that I know you always wanted the best for me and wanted me to be happy. I can honestly say, Mom, that I am happy. I want you to know that.

I want to tell you some of the crazy things I did while I was growing up and why I did them. Like, those times when I was experimenting with reacreational drugs. I know you'd be upset with me. I did it to fit in. I did it for fun. I thought I had to. And, you know what? I didn't really like it and that's why I stopped. I never did it to excess but I know, for you, even trying it once is excessive. I'm sorry, Mom, because I know you'd be disappointed in me. I never wanted to disappoint you. But I also want you to understand that what I went through then has made me who I am today. I know what to stay away from, to avoid and to run from because of some of the things I did back then. I hope you can understand how even the bad choices we make mold us into who we are.

I want to tell you about my job. I get pretty frustrated sometimes. The thing is, I love my job. I love that I work for a not-for-profit agency that really cares about people. I love working with people with mental illnesses. But I also feel trapped sometimes because I completely neglect my creative side most of the time. It starts to stifle me. I want to let you know that you were primarily responsible for me getting into this line of work. You taught me to care. And, you're also responsible for my creative side. You nurtured it and allowed me to express myself throughout my life. Thank you for that!

I want to tell you about my life...where I'm at right now. I want you to know that I deeply love Alex and know that he deeply loves me. I know you were worried about that because of our age difference but you can relax, Mom. It's the real deal!

And one last thing, I want to tell you that it's okay to go. I know you're suffering and struggling and, for some reason, hanging on when you know what awaits you is so much better. I'm okay, Mom. We all are. And it's okay for you to go if you want to. You raised me, and all of us, very well. We're going to be just fine.

Love you forever,
Moochie

30 Letters in 30 Days....Day Fifteen: someone I miss the most...

Dear Mom,
I miss you. Seems silly to say that since you're still with us but I miss the you you always were. I know hard these last couple of years have been on you. I know how difficult it was to have to move out of your home when, I know, that was the place you had hoped to be at the end of your life. Then, who could have imagined that you would have the stroke and now would be trapped in a body that does not work and does not let you say what's on your mind. I feel your frustration.

I miss your laughter. There hasn't been much of it lately. You always had a mischievous sense of humor, often making jokes at our expense, and then giggling at your own jokes. I miss how you would ask me if I wanted something to drink and that almost always meant you wanted me to make you a good martini. I miss those times when we were the only ones at home together, after Dad passed, and how we would talk about anything and everything. I just miss you, Mom.

I intend to spend as much time as possible now with you because I know these moments are passing quickly and you will soon be gone. I will miss you forever when that happens. I hope you know that it's because of you that I am the woman I am today. You taught me well and made me think and challenged me to be the best, most decent human being I can be.

I love you. Always.
Mary Beth

Putting on my big girl panties....

This Friday, we are closing on the selling of my mother's house.

I have mixed feelings about this. I mean, I know it was inevitable. My mother hasn't actually lived in the house for over a year now. She's lived with my sister who takes great care of her even after her stroke. Several years ago, when my mom was healthy she had the forethought to "sell" her house to me and my siblings. She had an attorney draw up the sale and then over time forgave the debt which meant we didn't actually pay anything. She lived in the house as our "tenant" paying the heat and utilities as her rent. It was a pretty good plan - one that allowed her to stay in her home for many years on a very low, fixed income. But now...

That house was the second home I ever lived in. We moved there when I was in the 4th grade. I remember that so clearly because we could never find my gym shoes after that and I had an "excuse" to skip gym for a while. I lived there until after I graduated from the University of Wisconsin - Parkside. Then I moved to Chicago for four years but came back nearly every weekend to visit (and do my laundry!). Then I moved back home and lived there for a long time - just me and my mom. That's why we have always been so close. I got to spend a lot of time with her, in that house, alone and that's a luxury my siblings never had.

Her house is old. It needs a lot of work - new electrical, new sub-flooring, the kitchen is in the basement - not exactly a great selling point. But we have a buyer and we close on Friday. Me and my brother and sisters will gain a little cash from the sale. Not much - because it's not worth much. Well, at least from a realtor's point of view. To me, it's worth millions because it's filled with memories of growing up, becoming a real person, learning so many lessons, laughter, tantrums and tears. There is no price tag on that.

So, Friday, I will put on my big girl panties, take a deep breath, and face one of those milestones that life sometimes hands out. And I'll be fine.

When do you know you've had enough...

My mother is 93 years old. Last Christmas Eve, while getting ready for our family holiday celebration, she had a major stroke. She spent the next couple of months either in the hospital, at the Stroke Center, or getting rehab at the nursing home. She's home now, living with my sister, and is doing okay. Just okay...

When she was able to return home we were all full of hope that she would continue on her path of recovery and get stronger everyday. She was speaking up as best she could, utilizing her throat muscle so she could not only speak but swallow. She was doing her therapy every single day, moving her stiff arms and legs as best she could to regain as much strength as she could. She ate as much solid food as possible, yet still drank her supplement at every meal so she could stay strong and ward off illnesses. We were hopeful. And so was she.

Today, my mother is down to about 100 lbs. She eats like a bird and barely speaks above a whisper unless prompted and then she does it begrudgingly. She cannot make the words come to mind of what it is she wants to say. This frustrates her beyond imagining. She cannot enjoy the foods she used to love because without full swallowing power there are many things she cannot eat. Today, she almost choked to death on a tiny sip of coffee.

My mother's hair is always a mess these days. I comb it for her every change I get but she lies in her bed so much that it is impossibly crushed on her head at any given time. She cannot have a conversation because she cannot get the words to come out right and that makes her both angry and sad. Today, she wanted to tell me to pass along birthday greeting to Alex. She could not say Alex but instead the words, "slap me, slap me, slap me" came out instead. She knew this wasn't right. She knew that wasn't what she was trying to say but the words get stuck on an internal loop in her brain and they come out sideways more often than not. She finally put her hands over her face and cried.

Once in a while, Mom will look into my eyes and shake her head with a deep sigh. I smile at her and do my best to cheer her up but I know what she's saying. She's telling me that she would not wish this life, her life as it is, on her worst enemy. My mom was always the strongest person I knew, even when she was older. She was the wisdom in my life. She was the gage of goodness, decency and kindness. There was no task too large for my mom to tackle and no lesson too delicate to learn. She was the backbone of our family and, the six of us, gather each weekend, having the usual brunch, playing the usual card games, in the hope that just doing those things we have always done will make things "usual" again. But I know they will not. This is not usual that my Mom is slowly slipping away from us. And, I have to confess, there is a part of me that thinks she may be slipping too slowly. Is it wrong to wish that someone you love would pass away? Because I do wish that. I wish it for her more every time I am with her. She would not want this for herself and, in her sighs, and tears, I know she does not want this for herself. She does not want to be fed, bathed, and toileted by anyone. There is no dignity in this life for her. For a woman who lived with great integrity and dignity, these days are difficult.

Though she cannot tell me, I'm sure that when she prays at night, she is praying for her God to take her quickly.

Until then, I have to keep my chin up...and hers. Maybe time will be kind. We'll see....

What I saw today...

My mother has now been moved to a local nursing home for rehab. At least she is closer to home.

I was there today visiting her with my sister. While we were there, my niece came in to visit too. She's 6 months pregnant. I sat there for a time watching my mom, my sister and my sister's daughter talking and laughing. My niece carrying the next generation in her womb. It was a beautiful sight.

The fact that life, in it's best and worst, goes on, was not lost on me. It was there from start to finish, today, at Brookside Nursing Home. My mom, so near the end, enjoying a smile with her daughter - at the middle of her life - and grand daughter who is carrying new life with in her.

This is the way it is, isn't it? We're born, we live, we touch lives, we have families, we age, and we hope that when we're at our own end, there is a smile and the hope of new birth. That's what I saw today.

My holiday weekend and wasn't much of a holiday...

As much as I love Christmas, this Christmas was one I would have rather have missed altogether. On Christmas Eve, my mom had a stroke. She was found on the floor of her bathroom by my sister and rushed to the ER. Luckily, she was found in the necessary three hour window that made it possible to start the TPA treatment. This treatment is crucial to seeing improvement in stroke patients. However, given her advanced age, we were told that there was also a 50/50 chance this treatment could make her bleed internally and that, if she did, it would be fatal. Knowing that, we let them start treatment. Also knowing my mom would never want to live in the condition she was in on that day. She was then taken to Froedtert Hospital where she spent two night in the ICU.

I spent the rest of the weekend going up to Froedtert and each time there were noticeable improvements. Small improvements but improvements none the less. She cannot use her right side. She can lift her right arm but cannot direct it to do anything but the day before she wasn't even able to lift it. She can speak but it's not really what she wants to say. Words come out and she gets frustrated because she cannot express herself. Still, she can speak! She cannot swallow. She failed two swallow studies so they are going to insert a G-tube so they can feed her. And she will have a stent put in her neck to relieve the blockage that caused the clot which caused the stroke.

Her color is good and she does understand what happened and knows where she is. So, we'll take this one day at a time. Our hopes are that once she is released she will go to Brookside here in Kenosha for some rehab and then, hopefully, back to my sister's house where she will be more comfortable.

All in all, this Christmas was stressful and sad and never ending. But, we're all here. And we're all alive. And each day brings something else to feel hopeful about. That being said, I know that I have the best family in the world and the most caring friends. And I know I have the strongest mom in the world so even at 93 years old and struggling to get through this her faith and inner strength will take her far.

My mother's things...

Recently, my 92 year old mother made the final move to go live with my sister, Patsy and her family. She has a lovely room there with a walk in closet, a private bath with one of those uberexpensive walk-in/close door/fill up tubs. She left behind the home she's lived in since 1970. It was the first house my parents ever owned that wasn't an apartment attached to their business.

The house had a real yard with a mammoth oak tree and enough space for my mom to have a garden. Which she did until she was 91. The house has two levels, the kitchen being in the basement level. My mom, at 92, just couldn't do the stairs anymore. Even getting in and out of the house was almost impossible for her. So, to my sister's she went.

Today, I went over there to get the things my mom wanted me to have - her microwave, a couple of chairs, her bed frame, some Christmas ornaments, a variety of cook books. I also got what was left of her blue and white Currier and Ives dish set. It's the set I remember us using at holidays when I was a really little kid. It's not a complete set anymore - age and careless children have seen to that - but it's wonderful to have it. I intend to use it too. Not just display it like some moldy memory.

I got her old desk too. I'm sitting at it right now. I love this desk. It's tan with some scroll work. Nothing really to look at. But the treasure lies inside. If you pull out the ledge above the top drawers on either side you'll see it. Years of kids scratching their names into the the wood. I'm there, all my sisters, most of the nieces and nephews. Pretty much anyone who's ever sat at this desk has etched their names into it. I love that. I also love that when I opened the middle drawer my mom had tucked away her pin cushion and sewing kit with the extra buttons. And it all smells like home.

It was a bit weird going over to my mother's now empty house and taking these things. It seemed too "final". But I know my mom is alive and doing well. She's safe now and better off where she is. And I get to enjoy her things while I still have her with me. How precious is that?

By the way, that house my parents bought in 1970? They paid cash and bought it outright. How much? They paid $14000. That's right...fourteen thousand. Hard to believe...

My mother's garden....

After reaching 92 years young, my mom decided it was time to stop creating her prolific vegetable garden. Still, her yard is flourishing with her flowers and she couldn't help but plant a few tomato plants in pots. All at 92 years young.

Mother's Day...

Tomorrow, we're celebrating Mother's Day in the US. For me and mine, this means we will go over to my sister's house for brunch and to spend time with Mom. My mother is 91 years old. I can hardly believe that myself! She has always seemed ageless to me. She had me when she was older and, frankly, she was a little embarrassed that she had become pregnant at an age when, she thought, most people shouldn't even be having sex! I was a surprise baby but she's never made me feel unloved or unwanted.

My mother has always been the back bone of our family. Long before my father's passing, it was evident that she was the one who called the shots. She still does even though we are all grown and have our own lives. There is not a decision we make in life that we don't always think "I wonder what Mom will say about this?" She raised 6 kids, worked two full time jobs and volunteered her time whenever she could. She taught second grade for 30 years and was the chief cook in my Dad's restaurant. She taught so long that at the end of her career she was teaching the children of her former students. She never raised a hand to us. The worst thing we could do in life was to disappoint her. She believes in God and is a staunch Catholic and tried to raise us to be the same. If you were under her roof, you went to church every Sunday and there was no discussion to be had about that.

My Dad died while I was still at university and I was living at home. It was just me and Mom then. We became very close and still have a special bond today. Yet these days I know that some decisions I have made trouble her. She doesn't speak of them but I know they do. For instance, I don't really believe in God. Though I am spiritual in a way, I do not ascribe to any organized religion. Having been a good Catholic girl for most of my life (12 years of Catholic school, church choir, even was on our church council at one time) this decision, I know, deeply troubles her. I think she understands that I am a good person and strive to do good things and that should be enough. But I also know she will pray for me until the day she dies.

My divorce troubled her too. As you know, Catholics don't believe in divorce and she had to come to some terms within herself about that. I have two sister's and a brother who also went through this so my Mom did have some previous experience there. I think my Mom has always believed that marriage is "for better or worse" but her marriage of a lifetime to the man she lived for did not prepare her for what the "worse" could be. In the end, she wants her daughters to be happy so she has found a way to deal with this.

I also know that my relationship with Alexander has been something she has had to frame in a way that she can understand. In her mind, it was confusing on so many levels. First, we met on line. To my mother, who never used an electric typewriter much less a computer, the Internet is a deep, dark scary place filled with predators, murderers and porn as portrayed on the news. The idea that you could actually meet good and decent people there was lost on her! Second, Alexander and I have a rather large age difference. This, of course, set off her questions about how this relationship could ever be at all! Third, she initially could not understand how he would just fly here on a whim to meet me from another country or how I, who never travelled alone before, could just board a plane to go to Sweden...more than once! But now, she has met him, welcomed him, fed him, questioned him, laughed with him, played her blessed card games with him, and has come to care about him as she knows he is someone I love very much. She asks about him all the time when he is away and is interested in what he's doing, if he's feeling well, and when is the next time he will be here.

And that's the best thing about my mother. She doesn't always understand why I do the things I do. Sometimes she downright disagrees with the things I do. But, at the end of the day, she wants to know that I am happy and she will stand by me no matter what. She is a rock. An ever shrinking 91 year old rock, but a rock none the less. I hope that when I am her age I have her strength and will and character because if I've learned one thing from her it is this - take care of those you love and always be there for them.

Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you! And Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful mother's in the world!

w00t! It's the weekend!!

One time, a long time ago, I had made a promise to myself that I wouldn't become one of those people who lives for the weekend but, rather, would be someone who lives it up every day of the week. Oh screw that! Ha! Being older and wiser, I now completely understand how important it is to get in gear for the work week, get through and then let out a huge w00t! for the weekend. So, here it is...Saturday! Can you hear me w00ting?

I had a really fantastic Friday night. It was spent the usual way - dinner with family and then cards to please my card shark mama. But I got there earlier than anyone else so my mom and I had time to have a heart to heart talk. I find it hard to talk to my mom sometimes because I know she doesn't always agree with the decisions I make in my life and she worries (needlessly) about me. But we had a great talk. We talked about how we felt about what was happening with my sister. We talked about the recent raise I got at work. And then, we talked about the plans Alex and I have to get married next year and all that immigration stuff and the long range plan for us to move to Sweden. All of this was difficult for me to present to her before because she's 91 and I thought the idea of my leaving the country would upset her a lot. Even though she did express a sense of worry about that she also expressed that she has always wanted me to be happy and she knows Alexander loves me and I love him and that makes me very happy. So she completely surprised me with her responses and just made me know that she loves me very much and always will.

Mom's are great for that. I was reading Van's blog and he was extolling the goodness of his own mama. I so know what he means.



I love this picture of my mom and Alex. Not that it's a great picture. It's not. It's a horrible picture. But I love the way my mom is looking at Alex trying to look so interesting in what he's saying. The truth is, she can't hear very well so she's not catching a word he's saying! But, honestly, does that woman look 91 years old to you? Damn, I come from good Polish stock!

The interrogation...

Yesterday, I was at my mom's for dinner. It's a standing Friday night event. We all go to her house, take turns cooking and play Canasta afterwards. I got their earlier than anyone else so my mom and I were having a conversation. She began asking me all sorts of questions about Alex and his family and where they live and what they do and their ages and their relationships and... well, you get the idea.

It was a good talk though and I'll tell you why. My mom has a certain MO that she has followed all my life. It's predictable. If I am ever in a relationship, her first take on it is to not talk about it at all and almost show contempt if I do. Her next step is to "warm up" to those times that I will bring the relationship up. This happens even long after she may have already met the person I am with. Next, she starts asking some questions. These first questions are never directed at me but rather she will ask my siblings about the relationship to pick their brains about what they may or may not know. Lastly, she will just will just let fly with her interrogation. That's what she did last night. It's her way of showing her acceptance and approval in her own limited way. So, it made me happy that she was genuinely interested and wanted to know more about the man I love.

Mom's are funny that way. No matter how old we are, Mom is always protective and cautious with each step of our lives. I know my Mom doesn't want any of her kids to be hurt and I appreciate that. It's somehow sweet and sentimental to know that she still feels the same way about these things as she did when I was 16!

How old is old enough?

My mother, bless her 90 year old heart, still thinks her daughters are all still 16 and should be living by her rules. Especially when it comes to relationships. I was at her house today for our regular Sunday brunch/Canasta blow out event when one of my sisters brought up some tentative plans for this summer. She asked me if I was going to be involved in said plans and I told her that I wasn't sure since Alex was coming here for almost two months and I would have to wait and see.

My mom said, never looking up from her cards, "Almost two months?"
I said, "Yes, he's coming in June and staying for part of July and then I'm going back to Sweden for a while when he leaves."
My mom, still playing her hand, said, "Where will he sleep?"

Now, let me explain why that's funny. She knows full well that Alex and I have a relationship and he's been here for months at a time before and always stayed at my place which is a one bedroom apartment. So, she knows full well where he'll sleep. Haha! But, there is that something in her mommy voice that always renders me back to that 16 year old girl. And my response to her was, "In my apartment..."

Thus is the relationship my sisters and I have with our mother. We are well over the age of reason and half of us have stepped into the age of no return but we can still be reduced to "dutiful" daughter by this diminutive 90 year old woman. You gotta love that!

Hanging on by a thread...

This time of year is always hard for everyone it seems. I know that we get all caught up in the whole getting ready for the holidays. For me, it is mostly the getting things done before the end of the year that gets to me. The thing is, I only have two working days left for this year so I am really feeling this crunch. But more than that, I have noticed that other people really do let this time of year get to them. Tempers are short, paranoia is at a peak and he said/she said runs rampant in the office. It's maddening. But, eh, two days...so I'm in my personal happy place!

I have one more gift to buy. It's the one for my mom. I never know what to get her. I've been wracking my bean for weeks on this one and so far...bupkiss. I have 7 days...something surely will present itself. It has to. Otherwise, she's getting a card and some cash...sheesh!

Ten days...

I have never been a very patient person when it comes to waiting. I get tense and stressed and short tempered and, well, to be honest, bitchy. I have ten days to wait until Alex gets here. Then, I am off work, with pay, until January 5th. I've started the countdown, believe me. I find myself checking the National Weather Service at least four times per day. The weather here is unpredictable and we've gotten more snow than usual for this time of year. I love snow but it also means O'Hare shuts down or flights are delayed and the thought of that just adds to my overall tense bitchiness. Ah hell, I'm excited!

I spent part of today at my mom's house helping her put up her tree. When I was a kid we always got a real tree. It was a highlight of the season, going out in the cold, arguing about how tall of a tree we should get, tying it to the top of the car, losing it a couple of times, and then putting it up. My dad always managed to get it to lean one way or the other and would end up tying to a nail in the wall just to make sure it would stay upright through the holidays. A couple of years ago, my sister, who thinks she is Martha Stewart, convinced my mom that a fake tree was the way to go. Which is weird, since this particular sister always has a real tree. My mom agreed and another sister just gave her an old fake tree that she had. Now this tree is the artificial equivalent of that poor scrawny tree that Charlie Brown chooses. I got it out of storage today and unwrapped it. My Martha Stewart sister had trussed it up with so much twine it a bit of a mental challenge just to get the damn thing unwrapped. But we got it up even though it is leaning to the right. I kind of like that it is. It reminds me of my dad. The lights were already on it, thank god, so that was one argument we could avoid. My mom has gotten shorter over the years so I had to put the angel on the top. I've always felt sorry for the angel topper that my mom has. It's pretty enough and has lights that twinkle but to get her stay on the tree I literally have to shove the top branch up her hiney. No wonder her lights twinkle! Ha ha!

We left it at that because my mom likes to decorate it herself. She'll do some every day this week until it's finished. She'll also put out her old creche. One of my other sister's made it a long time ago in a ceramics class she once took. The manger is enormous and each king, shepherd and camel weighs a ton. It takes up a lot of space and over the years some of the paint has rubbed off the Baby Jesus and I think one of Mary's arms is glued back on. But you know what? Those are the exact reasons that I know that after my mom passes away we will all be fighting over that thing. It's the visual embodiment of a memory. Just like all those goofy hand painted ornaments we all made when we were kids, the bread dough choir I made with the funny pinched faces and paper mache dog bone ornament with the name of our long dead family dog on it. I think I know why my mom likes to decorate her lopsided tree all by herself. My mom is 90 years old now and, I think, each one of those crazy homemade beauties reminds her of all those years when we were all there together. I know the sight of her tree makes me feel that way. I think it makes us all feel that way because the first thing we will all do when we gather at her house on Christmas Eve is take some time to look at the ornaments, remember the stories and laugh.

It's late...

And I should be sleeping but I had to stay up and watch the Packers play Dallas. Favre was hurt and out of the game. Rodgers came in and kicked some Cowboy butt but just couldn't pull it off. Weird how Favre has never won in Dallas. I think all that warm weather disagrees with him. Or maybe he gets distracted by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Whatever it is, I lost the bet with Tim S. and so I now have to write and record a song all about how "godlike" Tony Romo and his bullies are. I still say he's only as good as he is because he was raised on the fine cheese of Wisconsin!

I found out today that one of the articles I wrote at Helium.com may have been stolen. Alex found it on a site called Dog Monthly or something like that. It's a piece I wrote about a little dog I once had. On Helium, they can distribute the articles I submit to other sites but if they do, I get paid for them. I wasn't paid. I emailed the kind folks at Helium and they knew nothing about this so they are looking into for me so we'll see what happens with this. It's funny though. I've been writing the odd article at Helium just to get some more experience writing. I never even thought about trying to get something published and then this happens which makes me think that maybe, with the right audience, I could possible get something published once in a while. So, while I'm pissed that Dog Monthly just stole the article, I have to admit I'm also a wee bit honored that they thought it was good enough to take.

On a strange note, I got to work today and suddenly doubled over with the worst pain in my lower abdomen that I've ever felt in my life. It took my breath away. I have no idea what it was and in 15 minutes it was gone. A nurse who works with me says it could have been a kidney stone but I don't know. I haven't felt any pain at all for the rest of the day and, actually, I feel great! But the whole ordeal has turned me into the biggest hypochondriac ever - at least for today. And just to let you know how strong my mother's life lessons have influenced me - as I was sitting there, bent over in pain, thinking that maybe I should call an ambulance to take me to the ER, the very first thought I had was "Am I wearing the good underwear today or did I put on a pair of the old, stretched out old ones." Ah, yes, Mom always knows best!