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Sugar Lips

My MIL Ru before her "botox" appointment.

Dear Diary,

I’d like to see you top MY day. There we were.. my MIL Ru and I sitting in the car on our way to the oral surgeons office for our (eyes looking at spot on the ceiling) unscheduled BOTOX session. Oh COME ON you guys! What would’ve you HAD me tell her? Here Ru. Now we’re going to stick you on this really cozy couch that only RESEMBLES a cosmetic surgery lounge but in fact is a place that you’ll have a needle the size of someones something (nothing nothing) injected into your facial.. FACE.

You know darn well that if YOUR MIL had dementia and she had this craggy rotten half a tooth waiting to get extracted— you would SO tell her she was going in to have some work on her lip lines with some dramatic plumping of the Nasolabial fold area, followed by a fair amount of swell.. ummmm enhancement to the right side of her mouth region. Sorry.. there has to be some big pouty lips associated with the procedure or No. Can. Do.

In order to pull this off I’m obligated by chapter three, section five of the full disclosure to “old persons with cognitive impairment who will be pissed if they find out the truth” act, to reveal that the “procedure” might have some slight discomfort and residual numbness and drooling associated with it. But who cares right? Bah.

Ru.. d-u-d-e. EVERYONE slobbers up at your place. Who the HALLE’S gonna notice if you’ve joined right in for the day? I promise.. it will be so worth it (wink).

“But why are you telling me they’re only doing the RIGHT side of my lips?”

Ah yes Ru.. that is the million dollar question isn’t it. Why?

“BECAUSE.”

“Yeah..?”

“Because— EVERYONE’S wearing them that way. It’s like a come-hither smirky trout pout thing. Men LOVE it.”

The thing is.. we couldn’t HELP but be put completely at ease, as we walked into the office because A. It was a luxurious office and B. we were encouraged to help ourselves to these yummy peppermint pillow candies sitting on the receptionists counter. UUURKKKK. Wait. A thought doth cometh. Isn’t it kind of o-d-d that a dentist or for that matter a PLASTIC SURGEON would offer sugar laden treats to his victims before he pulls out there TEETH? Except maybe if that’s all part of the BIGGER PLAN. Odd that the dentist would frown on my perfectly sound idea to hide in granny’s bedroom and scream her name and when she shuffled to her room (eventually) I’d jump out of my hiding place causing her to turn around, jumping real high (ankle height) thus smacking her face on my head and OUT would fall the tooth. We’ve done it like a HUNDRED times people.. it’s not THAT big of a deal. But THEN someone (eyes narrowing) might not be able to afford pepp-er-mint pil-lo-ws.

My MIL has a habit of becoming observant (for lack of a better word) at all the wrong times. Like when she senses I’m messing with her mind more then I usually would. Could it be possible that because all the OTHER pathways in her brain have “road closed” signs on them that suddenly the part responsible for smelling.. DECEIT— ramps up a notch? Or perhaps it’s the antiseptic saturated sponge being swabbed around her gum area while her calm and rock like DIL shrieks, “If it looks like she’s in any kind of pain in the slightest.. you have my permission to knock her senseless. Got that.” Yup. That could’ve tipped her off.

“Do you have something to give her?” asks my dear Ru as she gazed compassionately upon her OUTSTANDING shiny example of advocacy, hiding her face in her sweaty hands and rocking back and forth mumbling.. urrrrr. Let’s see if I can even remember what I was blubbering about. Oh yeah.

1. Did you stab her with the thing yet?

2. Is she gushing blood?

3. OH GAWD THE PAIN. THE PAIN.

Apparently I wasn’t NEEDED in the room for comfort measures and shortly after my outburst was hastily dismissed. WHATEVAH. I’m just going to sit in the fancy shmancy living room (that I paid for) and eat tons of candy— while tweeting all kinds of updates to my dear followers who will totally lend waves of support and prayers for my.. SELF.

Not five minutes had passed.. when the dental hygienist comes marching in to inform me of my patients stats.

“So. Is she.. alivvvvvve? Because she would so kill me if she had to go through all of this for NOTHING.”

Don’t you hate when people in the KNOW, just figure you have some sort of.. intellect? It’s not my fault Ru has all her teeth and we’ve never had to do this before. The girl ushers me back to the exam room and I swear to you— all I could see were two stabby furious eyes and these mega HUMONGO lips (on the right side) protruding out of my MILS face.

“Angelina? Is that youuuu? Oh my heavens (slaps self’s cheek). I forgot. You were gonna have your tooth pulled today.”

Then for effect I add..

“remember?”

It was amazingly insightful thinking on my part to clean out the entire stash of Earl Grey and Chai tea bags from the “free cookies and tea” room at Happy Daze Assisted Living. Because according to an authority named Selma.. who also happens to live on the ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory) floor with Ru and is adamant that she was THE dental hygienist behind George Washington’s wooden bridge work. I know..right. She says— what you want to do is shove one of these puppies into Ru’s rather large gaping head gaping HOLE to help ease the pain and swelling. Naturally.. if one is to suck on a tea bag you want to choose your flavor. So.. I begin to get my bags ready by wetting them both and presenting Ru with the option.

“I don’t WANT tea right now. I want to go to my hospital room and lie down. Doctor.. can you DOOOOOO something?”

“Now Ru.. Selma says this will help you.” (Prying miffed Ru’s lips apart)

“Utts ELMA ot ewww ewww iff it?”

“Shhhhh. Don’t talk. Here.. let’s give you CHAI (shoves wadded up tea bag in). No? You don’t like Chai? Here’s the Earl Grey option.”

Yeah. Ru had quite the look going on as we returned to the halls of ROAM trying our best not to careen into Beth the Bawler who was dragging an eighty pound mahogany dining room chair behind her into oncoming hallway traffic. Um. Beth. Entertaining? Just be careful when you move the table sweetie.. wouldn’t want anyone to trip over it. Beth looks up at me.. then shifts her attention to Ru and snidely remarks, “Maybe she’d like a cup of WATER to go with her Earl grey? Ever think of that? Excuse me ma’am.. She’s gagging.”

What’s the matter with Earl Grey Ru? I thought you liked it?

“Yeah. But not to CHEW on.”

So I did what any compassionate member of My Sandwich Generation WOULD do. I shoved the Chai one in instead and took my drooling MIL to show off her pouty lip look at lunch.

Another HOT look.. off the runways of ROAM

-A

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 7 years, 5 months ago at 10:36 pm.

5 comments

Picture of the DAY: Stunning

My MIL Ru turns to my iphone for entertainment

I’m going to completley stand by my decision to go running onto the dementia floor with my iphone lightsaber app. set on Rahm Kota the Jedi Master and start zapping away like a total lunatic all the while shouting, STAND BACK or I’ll blast the crap out of you bwhahahah. All the commotion MAY have caused some s-l-i-g-h-t paltry increase in confusion for a few individuals who were startled awake and started shrieking, “GAWD! They’re letting in ALL kinds up here aren’t they? Who are you supposed to be.. BATMAN? Hey batman! Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me find a bathroom PRONTO.

Awwww. TAKE THAT Selma (zap) and THAT (zap zap).

I win! I win!

“What about me?” came the familiar cry of my MIL Ru.

“What about YOU? You wanna try.. is THAT it? Why don’t you wait a minute and when I’m done shooting Roger.. I’ll put the SPIN ART app. on. That would be fun.”

Aren’t you gonna let ME tase her?” Ru is patiently waiting her turn and it is then that I notice all the residents start to roam (quickly) toward the hallway with pushing and shoving and shouts of  “we’re all gonna die and we haven’t had lunch”. The lightsabre had fallen into the wrong hands.. of none other then— the ultra scary.. Darth Ru.

Excitedly grabbing the weapon out of my hands granny starts to furiously wave it around till she finds her mark.. Selma. Then she’s all “Selma.. the front seat on the bus belongs to WHOM?” and Selma get really nervous and starts to sing like a baby, “I didn’t know you were coming back from the bathroom when I took it (zapppppp) (zappppp) (zapppp).

“Is she gone yet?”

Here.. CATCH!

Way to add a little excitement through the wonders of technology to an otherwise dull day. You know what THIS proves.. forget the Happy Hands class’ people. The iphone applications are easily used by people with ALLLLL sorts of declining cognitive abilities and can be a useful learning tool (Angry Birds and Brick Breaker Revolution on EASY).

There was one problem.. Ru was concerned that she might cause serious injury to someone.. when she throws it.

Posted 7 years, 5 months ago at 5:37 pm.

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DELICATE ISSUES

My MIL Ru waits.. for NO ONE!

Dear Diary,

Oh ho hum. Just your average incredibly dull and boring day up on my favorite dementia floor of ALL. FREAKIN. TIME.. ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory). Why yes. Yes— I do believe that IS the shrill pleas for help I hear emanating from somewhere in the vicinity of my MIL Ru’s bedroom. Now shhhhhh. If I listen really carefully from where I stand at the faux bookcase door I can almost make out what she’s s-a-y-i-n-g..

“I NEED TOILET PAPER. I NEEEEEEED TOILET PAPER! COULD SOMEONE BUY ME TOILET PAPER OR AM I JUST GONNA STAND HERE ALLLLLL DAY AND DRIP DRY?”

Yup. That was my girl.

This is the part where you look at me and say.. don’t just be all lolling around. Do what any normal person would do and FIND a roll of Charmin and get on with the rest of your unbelievably life affirming DAY. Hey, there’s a staff person. Ask THEM if they can perhaps SELL you a fist full at black market price. Ahhh— if it only were that easy. You see.. there WAS no toilet paper on the dementia floor at Happy daze Assisted Living. You heard right. They were O.U.T. I mean it’s only toilet paper right? It’s not as if it’s actually something NECESSARY like.. hand soap or DEPENDS.

Meanwhile Ru is getting tired of the same PEOPLE magazine she’s been reading for… GA. I don’t know.. the last thirty, maybeeeee FOURTY minutes. I catch her sneaking looks at the stack of brown paper towels generica in the holder next to the sink reserved exclusively for wrapping up last minute hostess gifts (for the neighborhood all night shindigs) or shoving residual food stuffs in for future nourishment.

“Granny.. I talked to the head guy and he said that they had a supplies ordering glitch and the toilet paper you requested should be here anytime.. within two to three working days. That gonna work for you? Now I k-n-o-w this might be a slight inconvenience but the nurse said we have to be flexible. So please carefully maneuver back here (walking straddle legged) and sit down and let me think this out.”

Breathing heavily and sweating profusely I nervously motioned for the male nurse to join me in the deserted back kitchen area. First, making sure that no witnesses existed.

“Mildred. Pssssst.. Mildred. You mind (tilting head towards the door)?”

“No. I don’t mind at all. I mixed Metamucil in there so be careful..it’s POTENT (handing me her glass).”

You’ve HAD enough prune juice.. please don’t make me do something (else). Take your walker and make yourself scarce would ya?”

I explained our situation calmly. One might even say that I appeared to be RATIONAL.

“What the (KAPow!) d-u-d-e is going ON in this joint? I need you to score me some good sheet man. I’m willing to pay you major (KAPow!) cash. (pulls out a dime with gum smooshed on it and Kleenex fuzzies adhering) Think you can get some? I’ll be your best friendddd.”

After the goods arrived and were put to use— Ru and I hastily pushed our way through the unruly throngs that had formed at her door. Stopping only momentarily to nod, smile and collect.. the mandatory SUGGESTED tax-deductible donations from each and every one of the girls (and Walter) who had been dancing in line— BEFORE dashing out to purchase bulk TP for our new start up venture.

Have a square to spare?

-A

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 10:29 pm.

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Picture of the day: Shove your balls in your pockets

My MIL Ru and Alien DudeQuality bonding time

One more reason why it’s so important to have your children spend quality bonding time with their granny. The learning of some incredible life skills they might never have the opportunity to explore.. with someone who actually HAS boundaries.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 5:51 pm.

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Touchy-feely

The face of my MIL Ru after being TOUCHED.Dear Diary,

There is nothing more exciting to my MIL Ru then the thought of getting a massage.. not performed by me. That’s not to say that I don’t give awesome massages to her and ALL the residents up on ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory) because well.. I DO. Just ask Selma. No. Don’t ask Selma. She’ll just tell you what you want to hear— some completely fraudulent story about how I pulled her arm out of the sweater she was wearing in such a way as to make her flash her navel and surrounding fleshy parts to all the men in the room—causing gawkage and shouts of “IS THIS HOOTERS” by Walter and his posse.

I recommend that if you’re going to try this in your own home or favorite dementia floor you make sure that everyone knows the RULES first. That means you line up the victims the residents in their chairs, asking politely if they wouldn’t mind signing a little WAIVER on some (stolen from front desk) sticky note paper, by dipping their thumbs in the butterscotch “mousse” the minute they’re done using them to finish up their entrée and pressing them on a binding contract: If something should go wrong with my SPECIAL DELUXE arm and hand massage i.e. a reaction to the canola spray, bruising (new) or LEGITIMATE r-e-a-l breaks or sprains (as opposed to the pretend ones used to garner extra attention.. you know who you are BEV)  then you must suck it up like a man, because.. will you EVER get an opportunity like THIS again? Nyet.

“You have to add the crunchy bits in it to make it tasty. It’ll give it a nice texture on the paper.” My MIL is standing over me directing the assembly of the pudding as if I’m not perfectly able to figure it out myself. “Yeah. Thanks Ru. Hey.. Harriet! You wanna go first?”

“Where am I going?”

To which my assistant Ru answers gleefully, “To a massage parlor.. THAT’S where. It’s going to feel soooo nicccce. When was the last time you visited one of those Harriet?”

Yeah WHEN Harriet? Tell us. Here— let me just GENTLY pull your.. tugggggg.. ARM out of.. urrrrrrr this ugly boiled wool sweater that may have to DIE to free your limb. Come on arm. Let’s go ughhhhhhh. Got it.

OUCHHHHH What the HALLE are you doing to me? H-E-L-P! Nurse! She’s breaking my arm.

Feh! That doesn’t hurt you. Does it Harriet? Now calm down and chill. K? Getting my client all comfy with her arm lying on a nasty disgusting pillow from, GAWD only knows where.. I begin to spray her down with the canola oil cooking mist (I like organic) that I’ve purchased specially for today’s activity. Being the professional that I am.. I make sure FIRST that the spray is a nice and toasty temperature to avoid any (more) shocks to the now rigid body sitting in her wheel chair in front of me. Thanks to my assistant Ru who’s been sitting on it for ohhh.. fifteen minutes or so while I was removing Harriet’s article of clothing.. it’s now perfect. Just remember you guys— it’s all about technique. You want to use a gentle yet FIRM (choke) hold on the resident while you achhhh (sounds of struggle) try (more sounds) to get close enough to actually TOUCH her arm to begin the massage. Quit that thrashing or you go to the back of the line. You got that?

“Hey girl in the Abercombie and Fitch tee.. wanna go out for a little m-a-s-s-a-g-e today? Heh heh. I said FITCH not FISH Blanche sit down would ya.”

My decision to take Ru out to a special spa for HER Lomilomi treatment came from the desire to give her an experience she would remember (while she was having it) plus the fabulous benefits only a trained masseuse can deliver.. a-n-d I wanted to sneak into the ladies spa lounge and sample the seven headed shower with heated towel rack while granny was indisposed. OMG.. they come at you from all sides and this huge sprayer deal on the ceiling. If you haven’t had the experience.. then I suggest you find someone on a dementia floor and march them in to get a massage and totally go try it.

“Is it Valentines Day today?” Ru asks me, as we’re driving to her appointment. The correct answer always is.. OF COURSE it is. Why if YOU feel it should be Valentines Day.. then it SO is. Then reaching in the back seat I produce a bag of these yummy pecan chocolate caramel dealies from Sees and dump a few into the lap of my overjoyed passenger. Who cares right? I’ve already knocked off the bag of almond buds and eaten my way through HALF of granny’s red heart box.. might as well finish off the remainder and then hit the Sees store on the way back.  So you see people.. Dementia has its up-side. I can finish off an entire ONE pound box of nuts and chews with an odd ball cream thrown in for good measure (in case Ru’s toothless neighbor might like a bite) and leave Ru with just the brown papers and she’ll be, “Oh..I LOVE it. Papers! I needed brown paper cups with a single half of a cherry cream chocolate left in it. Thannnnnk youuuuuu.” She KNOWS doesn’t she? Yeah. I knew it.

“What you’re going to want to do is run and JUMP up here on this thingy and shove your FACE in HERE on this little hemorrhoid cushion shaped pillow. OK. Now GO! Now JUMP. Higher. Here— let me help push.”

Trying to finesse Ru onto the massage table through words and mime is not as easy as I make it look. Not only must she get ON the bed, tummy down.. she must place her FACE in the HOLE of the headrest.. as opposed to say—some OTHER body parts hanging down in there, due to miscalculation and alignment issues on my part. Unfortunately granny repeatedly landed with her upper body hanging off the front part of the bed eating up about twenty minutes of massage time. But.. it was so worth it. Ru wouldn’t have been comfortable up-side down with blood rushing up to her brain.. when it’s not used to it.

My Sandwich Generation friends, if there could be ONE action above all others that you might do for your senior.. let it be a massage. Putty in the hands folks. Touch doesn’t happen enough on dementia floors, assisted living facilities or even in some homes. Just a little loving stroke from time to time, maybe a nice back rub, brings all kinds of wonderful side effects to your older family member and makes a happier experience for all involved. If I may warn you.. there are some naysayers out there who don’t WANT you to give certain OTHER people back rubs because they are jealous. Jealous and bitty.. Marion. They will scream at you to TAKE YOUR hands off of Wilbur because you can’t be trusted. Don’t listen.. just know that everyone needs to be kneaded.

Feel the love!

-A

Ru's candy..papers.

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 11:20 pm.

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Picture of the DAY: HOLE PAIN

As you all know I love my MIL Ru VERY much. That being said— it is this VERY deep unflinching (pffffft) DEVOTION that makes it near impossible to refuse her the opportunity to do whatever she likes.. whenever she likes. Including making some audition tape for American Idol when the idea hits (rises up from the murky depths).. in the back alley of her dentists parking lot. For the entire 20-minute drive to the dentist office I got to hear the melodious strains of THIS song over and over. Ru singing her heart out.. in the pathetic HOPE that I might be the one to make the suggestion FIRST about the Idol tape. Oh I HAD ideas all right— in fact my one single thought was to pull the car over and extract the tooth MYSELF so we both would suffer. Maybe a slightly PITCHY howling, rather then the off key moaning is just what the song needs to give you the ticket to HOLLYWOOD baby. Honestly why do we even need to fix the “hole in your HEAD that your tongue keeps playing with” Ru? You lose the hole and THEN you’ve got nothing to do for fun in your down time.

I know what you’re thinking and I promise neither one of us had any drugs what so EVER.. at this point. My only hope is that Simon will pardon Ru’s song choice.. when you have dementia you tend to go with the first thing that pops into your head.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 11:30 am.

6 comments

Something UP her.. sleeve

Granny MarnieVOILA!

Dear Diary,

Whoa! So, there I am.. just sitting with granny Marnie, completely minding our own business and focusing intently on each others lovely faces.. as we stuff cinnamon roll into them with wild abandon. In all fairness it so happens that the Start Your Day off DEAD Right: Morning Joy Sweet Roll appeared to be, at first glance, the lowest calorie option on the Killjoy Senior Living menu. I suppose if I hadn’t been in such a terrific amount of haste to get through the wasted PRECIOUS time of menu ordering and get right down to the important bonding experience with Marnie.. I might have noticed the Egg White Omelet choice in that small teensy four inch bold print in the lower left hand corner of the menu entitled “Spartan Martyr Cuisine”. Oh who cares— the time should be spent engrossed in quality conversation and reflection that I’ll remember a lifetime without worrying about the crap we’re shoving in our mouths.

“Don’t look now.. STOP. I t-o-l-d you not to look. Just sit there and pretend I’m telling you a joke. (Looking at Marnie and hitting her arm ) Ahhhh hahaha ahhhhhaaaaaaa.. K.  Stop now and swallow cuz that was just nas-tay looking— all in there gross. Who’s that lady with the ugly bright pink acrylics (nom nom) I thought you told me they went out of style around here (gulp) and that’s why I’M giving you a French manicure every week?”

Then Marnie cranes her neck around and lifts her entire body out of the electric scooter about a FOOT to see who it is I’m trashing before she contributes eagerly. Talk about some serious upper body strength to pull off THAT Yoga pose. Picture granny doing a modified peacock meets the Pommel Horse, without wearing the unitard. Heh. Nice. What did I tell you? Lifting MORNING JOY rolls to the mouth on a regular basis builds good strong upper body fat.

Turning back to me, Marnie assumes her, I’M GOING TO BE REALLY SUBTLE AND WHISPER IN YOUR EAR head position.Then quietly, like a little mouse into a PA system..

“OHHH. The lady with the TRASHY VULGAR PINK PRESS-ONS? Is THAT who you’re looking at dear? Don’t you remember her? (from the Hitchcock thriller) I think—Didn’t she babysit you when you were an infant?”

O M GEEEE! You are r-i-g-h-t Marnie. It’s all coming back to me now. It. Was. Her. A young girl of 70 or 75 then, my mother caught her entertaining boys and smoking GAWD only knows WHAT in our fireplace— while I was in my crib (chewing on the lead railing) screaming for HOURS on end, without anything to eat (shoving cinnamon roll in mouth). I weep for the YOUNG me.

After Marnie so kindly got her neighbors attention, I then was forced to mouth HELLO and gave her one of my Macy’s Parade float waves with adorable smile plus cutesy nose scrunch in the hopes of softening the BLOW. Yup. I said it. Then I start with the shaking of my noggin in the affirmative, and some stupid fake laugh in the lady’s direction. So she can see that, YES.. there’s really something wrong with me— so it’s all good. Cripes. Marnie why don’t you finish up smooshing that wad of doughy delight between your cheeks and gums so I can get the HALLE out of here without anymore incident.

As we were mid-sentence analyzing all this startling new bogus information of my childhood.. Thus explaining fully a whole HOST of odd behaviors according to Marnie that were linked to inhalation of second hand cigarette smoke that could not make its way up my parents fake chimney— this really clean and marginally well dressed gentleman approached our table. Thinking that it might be a very SMART thing to invite him to join us and get back at Marnie for making me look like a bigger ARSE (If that’s possible and obviously it SOOOO is) then I already am. I invited.

“Oh won’t you come sit and (OUCH) have some (OUCH) breakfast with (scowling at Marnie driving her scooter into my leg) OUCH.. US?” Obviously SOMEONE had a problem with this particular youngish (in his late eighties) guy joining ONE of us who is poised to have fun and get kind of wild and crazy then let her hairpiece fall down where it may. Not so fast granny. As it would be inexcusable to pass up an opportunity like this– On behalf of all your grandchildren who have suffered HUGE embarrassment in their PAST, at your crooked hand.. Bwahahaha.

So dude. Wanna take a load off? We aren’t in a rush at all. Are we Marnie?

“Well. We have to go now.”

ME: Where do we have to go?

MARNIE: To the thing. We HAVE to go really fast to the t-h-i-n-g.

Ah yes. The THINNNNNNG. Oh how I love my life. La!

ME: Marnie.. what will we do at the thing, once we get there? Maybe we should invite mister? Uhhhhh. What did you say your name is?

MARNIE: It’s something with a body part.. Hisbutt

GUY: Herbert

MARNIE: Close enough..

Herbert, would YOU like to have breakfast with us and then go to the THING? I’m sure we won’t be there long.. then the two of you can hook up after and go over to Marnies place. Get snookered out of your heads, have wild somethin somethin and.. What? It’s not like I don’t know how your mind works Marnie. WOW! To think— my MOTHER might even get a new baby brother out of the deal. Heh. Feel pressure much?

Marnie made the correct choice to fess up that SHE actually already has a “friend” who’s closer to her age and he’s a DOCTOR. Every mothers dream.. a doctor who practiced when they still used leeches. I’m so proud and excited. Unfortunately we’re still in the playing HARD to GET stage so I wouldn’t be all holding your breath to get a wedding post anytime soon. The best is yet to come!

Here are my digits. Don’t call me.

They’ll call YOU.

-A

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 12:25 am.

2 comments

Picture of the day: TEMPTATION

My MIL Ru (left) and coach granny Marnie (right)

You know what this is? This is a JOKE that’s what it is. Granny Marnie was hired to be my MIL Ru’s workout coach instead of ME because Ru INSISTED she’d do better with someone who could inspire her to work hard and accomplish her goals. Instead of.. let’s say, a coach who shouts, “OK. It’s time for your first quickfire temptation challenge” then goes and dangles some sumptuous, amazing (still warm) cheese danish (taken off the free cookies and tea room platter) in front of her face all, “HEY granny— slow down for a sec. YOU want a piece of this.. cuz I can’t eat the whole thing.”

Please note.. I only did it to TEST “team dementia’s” willpower and see if she wants this weight loss more then anything. Unfortunately for Ru she’s not a game player and I get blamed by her new COACH for adding a two pound penalty on to her weigh-in after she eats the whole thing.. and sends me back for the cherry one.

Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 9:33 pm.

2 comments

Made a PASS

My MIL Ru studying for finals

Dear Diary,

I’m just not crazy for these teacher student meetings. No. What I actually can’t STAND is the smug face of my MIL Ru’s (almost never) friend’s DAUGHTER, prancing out of the Happy Daze Assisted Living special back room. Reserved for random meetings with family, assessing proper course of action for SUVIE’S (senior-juvenile delinquents) caught in repeated acts of skulduggery and other problematic behaviors from residents. Those are really the only times I can recall the ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory) floor staff congregating (with no cookie tray). You walk in and everyone’s sitting around a single metal desk, trying not to be judgie— flashing you the pathetic “We know we can’t be hating on your MIL.. because she’s so sweet and innocent, but we most certainly can nail YOUR sorry arse” smile.

Then the head person (decided via rock paper scissors) unabashedly shuffles through files holding papers with the wrong persons name on it and starts in with, “DID you know blah blah Ru shows up in her lips and hearts nightie at 3:00 am and blah blah blah while her girlfriends blah and blah, cheer her on as she blah blah WALTER who’s wearing his little skimpy Navy night dress and blah blah yelling LOOK AT THOSE LEGS! WOO HOO! What’s UNDER there WALTER? THEN blah wakes up all the other residents.” Hmmmmm. We can’t have THAT happen again now caaaaaaaan we?

Which brings me to sitting here waiting for the commencement of.. Winter Quarter progress report for Ru’Mae. I would have no problem if I could’ve followed an act like… FAYE instead of Blanche. Dancing on tables for a living and screaming obscenities when no one tips her. Hmpf. That HAS to trump any small indiscretions my MIL might have partaken of. Still the aching question remains— as I move towards the door for what is going to be a rip roaring awesome time. How best to make my way past little goodie goodie without SMACKING her silly as I go?

“Hey Ru’s DIL. You’re up. Wish I could listen in on YOURS (snort) but mom’s waiting on the bench across from the fish tank. She and I are going out for a double (therapy session?) ice cream cone because she is doing SOOOOOO well here and everyone adores her. She sleeps through the night, never hurls insults at others behind their backs and is so rule abiding it’s almost chill-ing..” (flashes obnoxious smile)

Oh please..don’t stop THERE dear. How about a little more gloat in my direction and perhaps a dig just for effect.

“How’s Ru doing? I heard from moooooom that Ru and Marion were messing with some of the other girls denture dishes so no one knew who’s teeth were who’s and hmmmm come to think of it they also got totally BUSTED mixing up electric tooth brush heads as well. Any truth to that or is that just a vicious rumor? Anyway tra la la.. see you later.”

Ru’Mae’s Progress Report For Winter Quarter

KEY:

C = Consistently observed

This resident consistently and independently meets expectations (hahahahaha)

G = Generally observed

This resident generally meets expectations

N = Needs prompting (needs MORE then THAT)

This resident meets expectations with assistance and redirecting (and bribery)

R = Rarely observed

This resident rarely meets expectations and is happy to do so

COOPERATIVE WORKER

1. Participates appropriately with other people on her floor when they have better ideas then she does: N

2. Cooperates and interacts positively with all her friends and their wives: R

3. Shows respect for property and always points out when she’s accidentally “dinged” a piece of furniture by bashing into it or stolen something from someone by mistake: G

SELF-DIRECTED LEARNER

1. Chooses appropriate times in the middle of the night and early morning hours to interact with peers: C

2. Follows directions repeated under fifteen times but over thirteen: N

3. Is prepared with materials and ready to work when folding napkins, setting the table or hoisting Roger off the floor with a belt strap: G

4. Organizes workspace and materials. Bra drawer turned into shoe holder and sock drawer for one stop shop, DEPENDS bag organized to hide precious jewels, Kleenex box filled with emergency chocolate stash: C

5. Makes productive use of class time by sleeping, shouting out “When’s the BUS RIDE?” or talking to neighbor about third breakfast: C

6. Works independently as opposed to walking around saying “What are we supposed to be doing now?”: R

7. Produces quality work on Macaroni necklace, foam visor, shrinky dink pin: N (couldn’t sell for asking price)

8. Writes and text messages legibly and tweets coherently: C

Your senior qualified for & received supportive services as checked

1. Academically Gifted and Talented ROAM Program X

2. Learning support program with emphasis on learning words to Beyonce songs X

3. Individual Education (by DIL) on lipstick application and face cream distribution X

Attendance

Days Present: 0

Days Absent: 3 years

Days Tardy to meals: 0

Well, THIS report card is going to earn SOMEONE a trip to NORDSTROM for that leopard print UGG she’s been asking for.. that’s for darn sure. How proud am I you guys? Whoa. I love the part when the report states organizes workspace and materials. Funny how it wasn’t mentioned that the whole CLOSET is routinely colored coordinated and merchandised to perfection.. with the long dresses in flannel going up towards the front with a matching necklaces looped around the hanger and the pants have been matched with a similar color story pajama top, for that “I just rolled out of bed and flung a little something on and didn’t even try” look. Where’s my girl.. I’m (sigh) so very proud. Would have perhaps enjoyed seeing a slightly higher mark in the independent worker category.. but whatever.

As I emerged from the office all-full of grins and giggles who do you think was waiting in line for HER moms conference? Why.. it’s FAYES daughter come to hear the praises sung of little miss potty mouth herself. Good luck in getting into the GIFTED and TALENTED program Faye.. gotta work on that table dismount.

GPA: AWESOME

-A

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Posted 7 years, 6 months ago at 9:49 pm.

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