Wake up Call

Dear Diary,

I have decided to teach Ruth how to text message. I see no reason why not. There are some that will tell you no way because:

1. She didn’t ever do well in typing and won’t put out more than three words in under forty minutes.

2. Her dementia issue may stand in the way. By the time she gets her three words typed.. she will have FORGOTTEN her point.

3. The keys are small and even with her fab fine motor skills (it’s all those finger circles and thrusts*) she may have a problem finding the correct letter on the keypad.

I still feel like it’s time well spent to teach her; I am getting copious amounts of grey hairs from the phone calls at odd hours for trivial reasons. I’m fast asleep (listening to Steven snoring) and the PHONE does it’s “frantic ring” at 1:00am. OMG! OMG! Never has a device wielded such power over man (woman) kind and created huge drama.. Drat this innocuous little device! It sure can manifest the full range of physiological responses (which will eventually get taken out on our spouse later.) That being said..what would we do without it? Sick. Sorry, that was just a W-R-O-N-G thought to put into the air.
This is why, I’m starting to think it’s time to have Granny text when she’s up in the middle of the night.

Gi! Wit er u dooing? Im bourd. Warz mi car? Doo u havit:}

Maybe I won’t get her a razor. The i-phone might be easier for her; she’ll just need to stay away from the twitter button.

It’s not only the middle of the night calls which are a tad nerve-racking. The late afternoon calls can be equally traumatic.

ME: Hello? (maybe more like “What’s the matter?” since I do have caller I.D.)

HAPPY DAZE ASSISTED LIVING: Adrienne? We have Ruth..

These are the words that begin the nausea response..that sweating, churning, puke-ie feeling. “We have Ruth..” And what?

I’ll take B. for $100 Frank..You have Ruth and..???? She decided to catch some rays and you caught her flashing the workmen from her window? Spit it O-U-T. FAST.

Sometimes it’s just nothing.

Turns out Ruth just forgot if she was supposed to use the orange-red MAC lipstick I bought her or if I was returning it? Should she use the SEPHORA no.21 691A instead? I can actually hear granny all befuddled and out of sorts in the background muttering..I thought we decided that the red had too much blue in it..ask her, would you?

I know all you gals of MY SANDWICH GENERATION can relate. First we have our cell ring (bark, chirp) during the school day asking us to come and fetch our virus infested child from the sick bay. Now, we get the call from the nurse at Alzheimer’s Senior High telling us mom is constipated and “oh..she’s out of cranberry tablets”. At 6:30am. Feh! Sometimes we get both at the SAME time. What do you do if you have to choose between mother-in-laws doctors appointment (where we had been waiting for over an hour) or your kid who has just called to say he’s tired and wants to go home? I’ll tell you what I did. Rock. Paper. Scissors. I feel it’s the fairest way.
“Granny” won and I told tired boy to put his head down on the desk and rest his eyes, I’ll see him in an hour.

Back to the texting..I’ll let you know how I do with the instruction. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll teach the whole group of residents how to text and make ALL of your lives a little bit less frightening.

c u laytr,
A
*Please see archives for Bikini Ready.

Straight off the CATWALK in ROAM..

ACT YOUR AGE

Dear Diary,

I’m running into behavioral problems with Ruth. First of all she REFUSES to act like a Grandmother and I have to repeatedly ask her to slump a bit more when she walks because if she does, my posture will no longer resemble that of an orangutan comparatively. Maybe people might actually think that she’s fragile and needs to be seated at the restaurant ASAP if she were to stop throwing her bless-ed shoulders back and holding her head up as if there was a string attached to it anchored to the heavens above. Also we need to work on the social graces. Tone it down. Stop it with the whole.. huge toothy smile, bright eye routine with the added “pleased to meet you” hand shake (Strong hand shake.) For the Love of GOD Woman! It’s NOT working for us RUTH! People have expectations of an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s especially one who’s had it for..fifteen years..and NEWS FLASH. You’re not meeting them.

How do I reward this NEGATIVE behavior? I go shopping for my quasi elderly mother-in-law at Loehmans. That’s what I do. Pretty much everything left hanging in her closet is:

A. Not HERS. I think it’s Blanche’s stuff. I remember the day she and Ruth tried to escape Happy Daze Assisted Living and Blanche was wearing this exact, chartreuse rayon pant suit.

B. Dyed the previously mentioned* nasty Breast fed babies NUMBER TWO yellow color by staff.

C. Has shrunk from size 12 to size 4. This one is sketchy because I actually think Ruth has ballooned from size 12 to a size 16, but I would NEVER tell her that. So, THEY SHRUNK..GOT IT?

There is something in the smell of brand new clothes that makes Ruth absolutely giddy; almost bordering on a kind of “high”(which for the record I know NOTHING about). Even now, when I go shopping I make sure not to inhale. I went into Loehmans focused on the task that lay before me; find Ruth sweaters and tops.. in a size X-Large ironclad pastel. “Ummm how about this?” I coo to myself as I hold up this seasons Black Dolce Corset and white pants. Puuur-fect. This could work..where could I wear it. “He-l-l-o maze I help oow?” I look up to see this tall blond sales woman doing the quick ass-essment of yours truly. “No..I umm.. I’m looking for my mother-in-law today.” “What does SHE DO?” comes the reply. I don’t blame her.

Ruth was thrilled with her new accouterments. I showed up with a full shopping bag of nifty goodies. This was enough to send her over the moon. The best part? The cutting (ripping/pulling) of the cords and the announcement and discussion of sale price obtained versus what I might have paid regularly. I tend to OVERSTATE a tad just for dramatic flair.

May I remind all the lovely ladies of MY SANDWICH GENERATION that “The better they look..the better we FEEL..the better THEY feel.” Ruth has always been one to take great pride in how she looks. Her outward appearance always matched her inside fabric (total beauty, grace and dignity.) With this in mind..my attention, on top of everything else, goes to seeing that Ruth looks the way she would want to look if she were 100% cognizant. Hmmm. Maybe she won’t like that Dolce corset after all and it will be mine..ALL mine!

Click. Flash.

A

*Please see blog: When Bad Clothes Happen to Good People

Full E Cupped

Dear Diary,

I think Marilyn Monroe’s measurements were something like 36-24-36. We really can’t be 100% sure if the “girls” were enhanced or not, but legend has it that she was just one of those with incredible genetic karma. No stuff, puff or fluff..beauty done naturally. Just like US. Hey. BOTOX is a natural substance.

Ruth is also one of those “natural” beauties. She’s never been one to flaunt it in your face, she just quietly works it so that everyone is aware of her “high hottie-ness.” Ruth also has never had any (much) work done and let me tell you..there is not ONE woman at Happy Daze Assisted Living who wouldn’t give her dentures to look like her. Alzheimer’s is extremely inconsequential when you look like..AACK! WHAT ARE THOSE! “Holy Mother of Pam where did these come from?” I’m fixated on two humongous mountains of boobage protruding from Ruth’s chest and before I can stop myself, I’ve got one in each hand.. coping a feel like nobodies business. “What do you have in here?” I say, baffled by what I might possibly find. “I don’t know what I have..I don’t think anythings any different then what it’s been for the last eighty-two years.” Uhhh..Believe me, you have never had a 62 inch chest.

Time for you dear mothers of MY SANDWICH GENERATION to have a nice visual. I’m standing in the hallway and Jo and Roger (casually dating) are chillin’ on a bench watching the fish do..whatever it is they do. I am reaching down Ruth’s Lavender, short sleeve, button down chambray shirt, pulling balled up socks..yes..socks out of her brassiere. One pair, two pairs, three, oh come on.. four.. and that’s just on the LEFT. Over on the right (where there usually lives a gel filled prosthetic) is nothing but..one pair, two etc. I’m throwing them on the floor and trying not to experience what the majority of residents do on a regular basis..incontinence, because I’m laughing so hard thus increasing my risk.

After gathering up all the laundry we head back to Granny’s abode in search of previously mentioned “filled cutlet” to re-insert back into Ruth’s now deflated under-thing. I don’t ever remember the game of hide and seek being as challenging as it is when it’s “Grandma’s” turn to hide. I start with the obvious places..potted plant, pillow case (you never know..maybe she used it to cradle her neck.) and hand bags. I even looked in the garbage can, reasoning that maybe she pulled it out of her bra and thought it was stuffing to keep her bra well shaped and chucked it. “AH HA!” I win! Guess where it was?

I know better than to allow my kids’ shirts and pants into the laundry machine without checking the insides for treasures or tissue or ROCKS. Ruth’s lovely $250 “treasure” was neatly stashed away in the dirty clothes pile, folded up in..drum roll..a DEPENDS Undergarment bag. Best hiding place EVER.. except maybe the time my little brother Ja..uh, ne-v-er mind.

May your cup always be half FULL!

A

STUCK FOR GOOD

Dear Diary,

Today was out to lunch day with Ruth’s BFF’s. These are the amazing “we knew her when” girls. They pinkie swore to be together forever.. through thick or thin and they sure as heck weren’t about to let a little Alzheimer’s STAND in THEIR way. No. There would be no wavering from their solemn pre-teen twelve year old promise, to do the monthly lunch and analysis. Sure, the analysis part or the conversation has changed a bit, from: “Did YOU see that man Sylvia was with? I think his name is Ted. I heard he’s quite the dresser; an amazing guy in..bridge. Now, it’s more apt to sound like: ” You recall who Sylvia married? I think his name was Fred. Well, he married a girl MUCH younger and now he’s nearly dead.”

I look back fondly on that song from Girl Scouts that we used to sing at Camp We-pee-woods? We’d raise our young soulful voices in unison, as we sat around the fire scorching marshmallows..”Make new friends, but keep the ol-d-d-d. One is sil-ver and the o-th-er’s gold.” We’d sing it again.. over and over. Each refrain with even more strength and conviction than the next. It touched us deeply and then we were OVER it. It’s amazing the killer instinct that surfaces when fifteen girls are forced to compete for three sinks?

This latter instinct is alive and well over at Camp Dementia. One minute Ruth’s all “Wanda is my new best friend. We sit for hours pouring out our hearts to one another about very deep and personal issues.” Fast forward one hour, “I can’t STAND that WANDA..who does she think SHE is anyway? All she talks about is her son the doctor this..and her son the doctor that.”

ME: (stupidly) So, why don’t you talk about your kids? (Here I go, setting myself up for the ego buster blow to the chops.)

RUTH: Why? What have THEY done? They’re NOT doctors.

Already, I know I am not going to win this. If there is one thing I have learned over the years is DO NOT approach a detonated TIME BOMB. I have a little feeling that this might escalate if I don’t go in for the diffuse and dash. How can I describe this technique..it’s a little like that game we used to play in the days when we could run around in our neighborhoods UN-supervised without threat of kidnapping. The game was called DING DONG DITCH.

“Ruth! Lets go get dressed to see Barb and Bell?” Good..she’s taking the bait. Slowly granny shuffles down the hall, but luck is not with us today. Guess who’s set to pass us on the right? Harriet.. arch nemesis to the Ruthster. The-day-just-got Suck-ier. Feh!

I’m not sure how the black with white stripe sweater got over Ruth’s head but it was not going to come off. I’m sweating and pulling and stretching that knit to try and gently inch it over big hair girl to NO AVAIL. Ruth has her hands up in the air with her face covered by garment and guess who walks in? Yup!

It was a nice sweater may it R.I.P. I ended up having to CUT Ruth out of it.

Ah..the joys of eldercare are to numerous to count.

Girlfriends of MY SANDWICH GENERATION we have to pinkie swear..right here and now..that we promise to stick together forever and ever. Let’s always look out for one another and make each other giggle..not only during the peaks..but in the deepest valleys. Together we can face adversity and remember to look for the sweetness in all that we do.

You’re all precious GOLD!

A

Sleeping..Doughnut Disturb

Dear Diary,

Ruth is the Paris Hilton of the Dementia floor; if there’s a good party, Granny will be there…if there isn’t one then she’ll m-a-k-e one happen around her. It really makes no difference if all the OTHER residents are asleep in their beds.. all it takes is a loud knock on her girlfriend’s doors or a shout out, “WHERE IS EVERYBODY?” at 2:00 am, to get the party STARTED. If they don’t come out then she’s going in and kick those grannies into full gear. Then it’s all lampshades on heads and whooping and hollering (table dancing is a thing of the past..not too distant past I hear for FAYE) and the joint is in full swing. This can go on till the wee hours of the morning and then it’s the WALK OF SHAME back down the hall to find the right BEDROOM. This can be as difficult for Ruth as it is for Paris..but RUTH has an EXCUSE.. Sundowning. I would actually rename this term Sunupping, because no respectable diva/ rock-star would be caught dead..at a party that starts before 7:00pm. I guess the term is used for the people who like to start the party early..a little pre-game confusion (understandable given agonizing decisions made over shoes and dress) that continues throughout the night (also understandable given difficult venue choices..Shirley’s room first then Greta’s? Marie’s at 1:00am followed by Nancy’s at 3:00am?).

Let’s be clear that Ruth doesn’t do this every night. How could she and still look so fab in the morning? It’s too bad that her roommates look exhausted..dark circles under bloodshot eyes and all hung over and half asleep on their walkers. They shuffle in to the dining room complaining all the while of the lights being too bright and their table mates breathing being too loud. When I walk in it’s one collective GGGRRROOOAAAN! Thanks guys..nice warm greeting whats the matter two hours NOT ENOUGH sleep for you?
Ruth can pull these all nighters just like a pro and the up side is no paparazzi snapping photos on cell phones. Just the aides, journaling away all the exploits of my Ruth and her wild ways.

Sisters of MY SANDWICH GENERATION many of you pledged sororities at one time or another. I was a Sigma Kappa; Ruth’s a Gramma Pi Dementia. Really what is the difference? Nothing beats an all nighter..we laughed, joked and gossiped and in the morning we’d get dressed for class, grab some coffee and doughnuts and get on with the day. Ruth’s “HOUSE” for the SENIOR GRAMMA pledges, is not such a bad way of life. Plus, just like us..they never remember that it ever happened.

Pi!

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Something Smells Fishy

Dear Diary,

You know how when you walk into a persons place of residence and the very first thing that you notice is..how it smells? It’s not “Look how nice and clean and well appointed.” or “WOW! I really like what you did with the pink plaid couch and the powder blue chintz throw pillows.” News Flash! The very first thing we notice is Home B. O. (building odor). For instance, let’s take my friend…umm..Zena. Now, when I walk into the den of Zena I’m aware of a delicate fruity upper note accentuated by rich vanilla undertones and musk infusions. Nice. Not to overpowering, very easy on the nasal passages and conjures up the feeling of roaming through.. a used book store.. stationary store. Yes, that’s exactly the smell..Stationary store No. 5.

I find that I could be blindfolded and guided into a vast array of different dwellings and score with 100% accuracy who the occupant is. Take for instance Grandma Marnie’s abode. What strikes first, is a whiff of Old Spice for the “manly man” aftershave, mixed with Aqua Net hair spray (Extra Super Hold, Original) with a hint of Listerine for the after punch. Believe it or not, it’s a pleasurable scent and although it wouldn’t do well in fragrances you can never be too sure. After all Britney’s Fog found shelf space.

Happy Daze Assisted Living (Motto: We Forget You Have Dementia) is quite a different story.
The smell hits my nostrils even before my second foot’s through the door and makes me sooo glad I’m not in my third month of pregnancy.. if you catch my whiff. It’s an ever changing fragrance that makes me think that they have numerous cases in reserve stacked in the stock closet. Cases labeled with exotic names like.. Corn beef and Cabbage Eau de Parfum or Deep Fryer Grease Eau de Toilette or just Toilet– a cologne that comes in either Room Spray or
plug-ins. It’s getting to the point were even mouth breathing doesn’t prevent infiltration. Light some incense, burn lemon verbena scented candles, anything..

It never ceases to amaze me how the scented air of the building attaches itself to my scalp and becomes so deeply absorbed into the hair strand DNA, that to eradicate it can take upwards of five, maybe six lather repeats. Maybe I need a more industrial strength shampoo? Or maybe I should try masking the offensive aroma with Tar Shampoo for dandruff? (I don’t HAVE dandruff but it’s conceivable that I might develop a case..later.) Funny thing is that when I step into Ruth’s room..it’s all floral base with mild notes of brown sugar and chocolate. I need to speak with the B.O. department on this one..or maybe just package what Ruth’s got and sell it to cover costs!

I must tell you a secret My Sandwich Generation BFF’s. Do what I do and before you go out, shove a few newly ripped magazine fragrance sample strips into your purse. Bring them out if you know you will be encountering some B.O and hold them under your nose and rub briskly. It works every time…even if it’s Eau de SKUNK!

Much stanks!
A

The Dating Game

Dear Diary,

Cripes! We really need to do something with the gender ratio in Happy Daze Assisted Living. I really can’t figure out why there are so few Pappy’s to such a colossal number of Grannies? This is one of the first things I noticed as Ruth moved into Dementia Central. Where are all the fellas? I’d maybe see one hanging out at the fish tank and then another chilling on the couch.. in palm up position (as if some phantom object was still nestled there). Yes, Ruth has dementia, but she’s also afflicted by terrible A.H.B.A.D (Alzheimer’s Halted By Adorable Dudes). If I want my life to be easy and Ruth’s dementia to slow in progression, then I had better start prowling ASAP!

Ladies you know how the game is played but because you may have forgotten the rules I’ll review them with you just after we bring out our first bachelor. He enjoys domino stacking, ancient trivia questions and BINGO..not to mention munching on Cornish Hen with Giblet Gravy and Lime Jello Mold, let’s give a warm welcome to..HARRY! (wild applause) ..COME ON OUT HARRY! H- A- R- R- Y!
What’s that you say, Harry? Yes, I am indeed sorry the game starts at nap time, but I promise it will be WORTH it when you meet the three lovely ladies you’ll have to choose from. Then guess what, Harry? Y-o-u will be approved to hook up with her AFTER the show. Let me introduce them to you now.

Bachelorette number one can you tell us your name please?
NO. 1: Hmmm?

ME as Show Host: Your name dear? Tell us your name?

NO.1: You already know my name? What’s the matter with you?

ME as S.H.: We’re playing a game grandma just go with it.

NO. 1: Well, my name is Ruth and..

ME as S.H.: and..?

NO. 1: ..and why are we doing it this way?

In order to be fair when it comes to the “pair up”, there is a certain protocol that is followed.
Established internally, the memo states clearly (in BOLD jumbo text).. “NO granny shall exhibit hussy behavior which consists of the following”:

1. Clinging, holding or guiding any male resident over to “available seat” next to oneself at lunch, without sign off from other female residents, may result in dismissal from hook-up eligibility.

2. Any kind of flirtatious behaviour i.e. wiping food off of gentleman’s face, asking to borrow his walker (or any discussion of brand, wheel type, m.p.h etc.) is strictly prohibited.

3. All verbal communication’s must be performed at least three inches away from gentleman’s face. If one is found to be speaking in gentleman’s ear due to hearing difficulty of fore mentioned party of the first then, proof of lack of hearing device must be obtained and shown to all parties of the second.

Mothers of MY SANDWICH GENERATION you of all people understand the meaning of “survival of the fittest”. Why do you think we kill ourselves every day on the freakin’ elliptical trainer? So we can stay fit! Maybe even look smokin’ to that special someone in our lives. Girlfriends.. when we’re old (hopefully our kids will have followed our lead and kept us in cool clothes and full make-up) it won’t be the food that keeps us going! Some things are just a part of our essential make-up. (No, I didn’t say ESSENTIALS MAKE-UP, although.. they have a great mineral powder foundation.) COMPANIONSHIP is the key to a happier aging experience. So, GOOD LUCK and may the best girl win.. the shot at being Harry’s Girl.

And that’s my number, feh!..such a HUSSY!
A

FEATURED LOOK OF THE DAY

LOOK SHOWN ABOVE on Model Ruth:

UGGS (NORDSTROM. Beige $99.95), Support Compression Hose (Druggie Inc.,Knee Highs, beige $100), Poly blended stretch Pants (ummm, JC Penny, Nasty Brown $30.00), Venti Chai Tea Latte (duh..$3.50), Tin Beads (Happy Daze Assisted Living/Dementia Care, Garish Green, 1/20th of a cent), Beautiful Ruth’s Smile..PRICELESS

A note from our model: “I have always kept my figure and people tell me allll the time I should be a model.” la!

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes..

Dear Diary,

I am constantly reminded by both grannies, Ruth and Marnie, that “aches and pains are just a part of getting old..dear.” Just when the tennis elbow stops its throbbing protests, the runners knee’s add their few cents worth into the mix. Today, Ruth was berating herself for her sheer lack of hamstring stretches and spotty attendance at Killer Commando Abs class..in 1984. We visit the possibility that IF she had skipped the 75% off, not to be missed..one day only blow out sale at LOEHMANS and gone to class, then maybe her back would not be as sore as it was today. We examined this point from JUST ABOUT every conceivable angle.. but it was my closing argument..”maybe the back WOULD have been stronger, but she may have gone down a notch in hotness if that Oscar D dress hadn’t been as hastily acquired and Patsy had gotten to it FIRST! Well, THAT put a rather abrupt halt to any other mussing on said back ache.

Many of you have asked the question about Ruth and the authenticity of her UGGS (please see past blog). First of all, just so we never ever have to visit this point again..for the record..Ruth NEVER wears fakes (shoes). That being said..we’ll talk about the sock stuffing episode another time. I took Ruth to NORDSTROM at the most quiet, settled, off hours (9:00am-9:00pm, drat this economy) to look for a nice pair of comfortable slip-ons that can help ease the discomfort of her corn infiltrated foot. We find the UGGS and Ruth tries them on and shuffles around on them and comes back, plops down and with toothy grin says “they’re good.” I, glance at the sticker on the box and cringe (blah..such a fib..I know darn well what UGGS cost..any COOL girl worth her salt does) and say to Ruth, “are they $99.95 good?” To which Ruth replies “sure.. maybe $50 good?”

Me: But what does THAT mean $50 good? They’re $99.95..do you love them $99.95?

Ruth: Sure, I love them $99.95..but I’d love them a lot more at $50. Will they take $50?

Me: My head hurts.

Ruth looooves her new UGGS. She tells me every day how fabulous they are, and how comfortable they are and how someday maybe I will be fortunate enough to have some myself. ..
pfehh!

Mothers of My Sandwich Generation, at any age..we should never sacrifice comfort and joint health for style. We could sustain a multitude of aches from our high heel wearing (BCBG anyone?) ways, that might just surface when we’re 82. We’ll have only ourselves to blame that’s for darn sure. One can only fervently hope and pray that OUR children are taking notes and understand the no casual brand name slippers for us rule. Don’t bank on it.. UGG.

..knees and toes!
A