Special Day

I'm thinking about you today Roger. I love you!

Happy Birthday

Hallo, wie gehts? Alles gute zum geburtsteg Tad. I think I just wished you a Happy Birthday. Hopefully I didn't just say something totally inappropriate. Have a great day and greetings from Indiana. Love & Kisses!

Happy Birthday

I have been a little disorganized and I forgot to post the Birthday wishes for Jan and Matthew. So....

Happy 17th Birthday Matthew. I can't believe you are 17. Are you married yet? I miss you and I hope you had a wonderful birthday!

Happy ?? Birthday Jan. I hope you had a wonderful birthday and that all of your birthday wishes came true.

Squeeky Wheel

It's true what they say about the squeeky wheel getting greased or oiled or whatever it is that you do to a squeeky wheel. I requested a new bed for Mom because she didn't like the one they originally gave her. She's been sleeping in her recliner. I've asked them about it a few times and they always said that they were working on it. I don't think it should take 12 days to work on it.....so I left a note for the Director of Nursing on Sunday and lo and behold there was a new bed there on Tuesday. It was a nice note; Nurse to Nurse. Mom hadn't slept in it yet because she didn't realize that it was a different mattress. I told her to try it out tonight but she had to remember; "you can't get out of bed without help!" I got the wrinkled nose look. "Why?" "Because when you try to get out of bed without help, you fall down." Wrinkled nose. "Mom, your legs don't work like they used to." "How do you know?" "I know because I've seen you try and get up by yourself. Just use your call light, ok?" Ok! It was one of those "ok's" that you give to someone just to shut them up.

Last week Mom told me about a lady from down the hall that kept coming in her room and trying to get in her bed. "What did you say to her?" "I told her to get the hell out of my bed. Then I told her it wasn't very comfortable anyway." She's such a pistol!

Memories vs Stuff

I think the stress of moving Mom and dealing with all of her "stuff" has finally gotten to me. I have been feeling overwhelmed; not even wanting to blog. I like to have things organized and right now nothing is organized. As I have gotten older, I have become more sentimental. When we moved Mom out of the house that I grew up in, I had no problem getting rid of stuff. I remember telling Mom not to keep so much. "You're not going to need it." That was true, and now I need someone to tell me: "get rid of it, you're not going to need it!" I am only having probelms getting rid of things with memories attached. I can get rid of the ugly gold headboard that was on one of her beds, but I can't seem to part with the 1970 bright yellow stamp holder that always sat on her desk. I don't even buy rolls of stamps. The item that started this struggle between sentiment and reality is a razor. I came across her razor while I was sorting through her things. I held it in my hand and just stared at it for the longest time. It's not just any razor. This razor is older than I am. It's shiny gold and heavy. The bottom of the handle turns to expose the blade for changing. It works perfectly. This razor always sat on the edge of the bathtub in our pink tiled bathroom. Mom used it to shave her legs. As a little girl I remember looking at how shiny it was and wanting to pick it up, but I knew it was forbidden because it was dangerous. That made it all the more enticing. When "I" determined it was time for me to begin the ritual of leg shaving I naturally reached for the shiny gold razor. I took the first swipe up the shin of my right leg. With what little hair I had came the top layer of most of the skin on my shin. I remember it well. It bled like a mother! I still have the scars from it. Apparently I wasn't ready for such a sophisticated instrument. Can you understand now why it is so hard to part with? There are fond memories and traumatic memories associated with that little razor. Of course I kept it. I justified it by telling myself that I could use it for one of my craft projects.

Here are a few of the other items that are causing me stress.
*Plastic Christmas wreath that she has had since 1971. It is still in the original box and on the inside of the lid she has written something about each Christmas that she hung it.
*Chestnut that she used to wear in her bra to keep the aches and pains away. (Whoever told her that should be shot.)
*Silky scarves that haven't been popular since the 70's. She almost always put a scarf on when she wore a jacket. Some of them still smell like her perfume.

I honestly don't know what to do. I can't keep everything; can I? My head says that I will have the memories whether or not I have the actual stuff. My heart says I need the stuff to keep the memories alive. Right now my head wants to punch my heart in the mouth.