A glimpse of morning

I never knew the difference between Dementia and Sundowner's Syndrome.  And even if I did, I would have thought 'Sundowners' started at sundown.

Boy, did I have that wrong.

My mother greets me every morning with a joyous 'Good Morning!'.  It is genuine and she is happy and that makes me happy.

I change her diaper and lift her out of bed.

She begins asking about 'cafe au lait'.  I give her a cup (which is actually coffee flavored 'Insure').

I usually feed my mother her meals.  My husband was injured in Iraq when an IED hit his vehicle.  Because of his injuries, repetitive fine motor movement is difficult.  Holding the spoon hurts his hands. I don't mind.  I enjoy it.   There is something about feeding another human being that is nourishing to both parties.  I can look at her and she focuses on me.  That doesn't happen very often.

I fix her breakfast.  Today it was oatmeal with a fresh peach off the tree mashed in.

I struggle with keeping my mothers weight on.  Most of her calories are consumed at breakfast.  Once the Sundowners kicks in, she won't eat. A glass of prune juice, more Insure, pudding, bananas, whatever I can get in to her during this brief period that will increase her daily calorie count.

It's a race.

We talk about the peaches in her oatmeal.  I ask her if she remembers when my father planted the trees so very long ago.  She remembers, but doesn't really remember when.  She has forgotten my name so she just calls my 'pretty lady'.

And then, at 11:55 am, she is gone.  She begins to shout.  Mostly in French.  She yells at dead people.  She yells at me.  Her eyes grow dark.

And I know that my time with her is over and someone else has moved in.

I meant to get up early to pick blackberries, but something, probably a bobcat and hopefully not a mountain lion, was after the geese last night, so the priorities changed a bit.  Sleep before berries.

The annual summertime war with the kitchen-ants has begun.  Pies, sugar, honey, jelly, cobblers.  I would want to live here too if I were an ant.  I don't like to use poisons because of the pets, so I deal with the ants manually.  I had to throw out a box of powdered sugar this morning, but it was my fault for being sloppy.  I get hurried and forget to screw tops down tight some days.  Ah, well.  I can live with the loss of one box of sugar.

As far as the restaurant goes, I'm still waiting to open.  It sure seems like I spend a whole lot of time 'waiting' these days.  I'm waiting for the parts to come in for the prep bar.  I still have to scrub the floors and hang the menu black board.  And get the final inspection from the county.

One thing at a time, I guess.