the weather could be a factor, too

I never wanted this to turn into The Dementia Chronicles, but it seems like that's where I am, so my choices are not to post at all, or to post what I'm living.

I do have other things going on in my life, but I'm not giving them the attention I should.

I have a son who's graduating in a month. How can this be? I haven't even begun to process that, emotionally or practically. I finally gave up on the scrapbook, realizing and coming to terms with the fact that it just wasn't going to happen. Not now, anyway. But I keep thinking I should be doing something to plan for his open house.

I have a son who's started driver's training (his white Nikes were recovered, by the way. Dan happened to see a kid at school with them. Now Garrison isn't so sure he wants them back after they've been, well, sullied and debased).

I have a daughter who is paddling her canoe as close to the waterfall of adolescence as she can without dropping right off the edge. Mouthiness is the order of the day. I am certain much of it is a desperate need for some quality Mom time. She really gets the leftovers, I'm afraid. And this whole Grandma thing is probably the hardest on her. Simply because the rest of us can draw on our memories of Grandma the way she used to be, and that helps us be more tolerant of her quirks and weirdnesses now. I could spend hours analyzing and dissecting the psychological, emotional dynamics at work in their relationship and this new living arrangement. But I won't.

I have a hubby who certainly, certainly means well and wants to be supportive and helpful. It's hard for him, because he has his ministry work which is pretty demanding in and of itself. I haven't been a very nice wife. I know I must be sheer delight to live with...

I have a dog who needs a bath.

I have a house that has been neglected since January.

I have a broken camera. They just don't make cameras to survive being dropped on the kitchen floor like they used to. I'll add that to the small appliance cemetery with my iPod.

I have fifteen (at least) extra pounds of potato chips and bagels that I'm carrying around in frankly unflattering places.

And I have a mama who tried to hand me her dirty clothes through my kitchen window opening this morning. I don't know how I'm going to do this, this next phase. I don't know how to be a daughter to her while telling her to put her wadded up kleenexes in the trash instead of on the floor. I don't want to be bossy, but she clearly needs direction. Literally. She can't remember where the refrigerator is. I don't want to be annoyed but her behavior defies logic. I keep thinking, "Where are you, Mama? Where is the lady I know and love and have always admired?" How do I strike that balance between controlling her and honoring her dignity? How do I keep from becoming her? How do I sort out my feelings of knowing this is the right choice, but not liking the choice? I couldn't imagine making any other choice, though.

Sorry. I know this isn't jolly fun reading. I miss myself, too.