The Grands: On Aging - Part Two

There is a fine line when assisting the aged.  Their dignity must be retained, their independence supported and encouraged, but their frailties thoughtfully considered.

As the "Responsible Person" assisting in securing help for the Grands beyond what we can offer, many awkward (and unbelievably frustrating) situations arise, as I am also their cherished daughter.  If ever there was a period of time in life for humility towards parents, this is it. Not quite as the humbling situation happens, but very shortly after and it is a persistent haunting.  It preoccupies.


Heart:  You should do more for them!  You should see them more frequently!

Head:  You have done all you can!  You have assisted in making their lives as safe, secure and as peaceful as can be!


Some of the services in place for the Grands include:

Assisted showering
Ergonomic equipment
Meal delivery
House cleaning
Additional weekly transport to various venues
Hearing Impaired phone
Medical Alarm pendants

I am extremely grateful for the last item on the list. It was Grandpa who pressed the red button when Granny was coughing and choking, battling to get air and still stubbornly refusing to let him call us.    We were notified within five minutes by the Medical Alarm service.  We would have taken forty minutes to reach them. Paramedics were there within fifteen minutes.

#Gratitude.

Two days after her 87th birthday, Granny spent an eventful afternoon / evening tended to by Ambulance and ER staff.  After he was told that his wife would not be admitted to the hospital that evening, Grandpa assured us that he would let us know when she was home safe and sound.

He didn't.

When we called him, he sounded somewhat irritated.

"Yes, she is home, and is still full of nonsense"

"How so?"

"She's grumbling about the fact that I put her evening meal vegetables back in the fridge just after the Paramedics took her away.  How was I to know she would be back so soon...."

The Grands: On Aging - Part One

My dad - "Grandpa" - had spent quite a few weeks in his local hospital.  He hadn't meant to spend such a long time there; it just turned out that way.  Not necessarily because of on-going ill health, but rather - hospital regulations.

He had been admitted with gout, and he could hardly walk.  His feet and ankles were angry-red and swollen.  He would often wince.  Within a few days, his pain subsided, with great thanks to the reassessment of his Webster pack contents, and the addition of new (temporary) medications.   He perked up and blessed many staff members with his gentlemanly ways, wit and charm.

It wasn't enough, though - it wasn't enough to gain his hospital discharge.  His marching orders.

Hospitals require the aged to be as well as they can be - and in particular - stable and mobile before they are considered to return home. Furthermore, a "Services Package" had to be secured and put into place, courtesy of the Australian Government and currently available to our country's aged population.

Grandpa was fairly stable and he was mobile (with the help from a walker), but he wasn't mobile enough.  He was transferred to Rehab, where he spent a further two weeks before leaving - just in time for his 90th birthday celebrations at our house.

Sarah - hanging the 'Happy Birthday' banner

Starting to set the table with snackage.  

Grandpa has visited his local hospital a couple of times since this particular stay, - for gout, chest pain and dehydration and despite long family communal waits in the ER all visits were short lived.  Needless to say, the staff know him by both of his names.  They even shorten his first.  They call him "Bert". 

Bert! 

It makes me smile every time I hear it. 

The Grands have accepted the Service Package available to them.  We suspect that they are well pleased.  But shhhh.....

We haven't suggested this to them.  We haven't even hinted at it.   

To be Continued......

New Year's Eve. New Year's Day.

Life is ever changing.

This eve - this new year's eve - is the first that the Machinist and I have spent ALONE together in 33 years.

It feels weird.

It is weird.

We see our children, their spouses and grandchildren every day.  It's not as if we have special occasion get togethers, because we always have get togethers in the course of regular, every day life.

Like earlier on the last day of last year.  We all went out to celebrate my mam's birthday.  It was a "given" that we should see the Grands anyway.  A regular weekly visit.  It so happened to be her birthday, and cause for eating out at one of her preferred restaurants.

It's not as if we feel lonely or out of the celebrations, either, because even as I type, our local  Hotel is hosting their New Year's Eve party, and the music is pounding out, equalled only by the vocal chorus of villagers, as they recognise and reminisce with the lyrics of familiar songs.

And yet .... somehow... new year's is different.  There are (sort of) expectations of being with loved ones.  Family or friends.  Or both.

This change is probably going to be the first of many to come.

A(nother) new beginning.

Peace and happiness to you, Blogreaders!

Happy New Year!!

My Vocation

I was reading through the description of my blog the other day.  While it is as accurate today as it was when I first wrote it, I feel that there is so much more I could add.  As the months and years go by and people and circumstances change, so do our roles.  And priorities.  More and more, I see definition...

"....I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...."

(Yep, there's always a song that relates to life).

My vocation as wife, mother (mamma) and homemaker has never been clearer than it is at this point of time.  I am besotted.  I am obsessed.

I suspect my blog will reflect this in the coming days and months.  How can it not?  Especially from something that brings such joy and fulfilment.

Yes.....

A vocation indeed.

Motherhood: The Hardest Work

"It's the hardest work on God's earth - being a mother" - My mam would often say.  She said it a lot when I became a mom for the first time.  And later - as my children grew, and the workload increased, she would add "... you have to have eyes in the back of your head..." to her repertoire.  Meaning; you have to be ever diligent in watching your children.  You have to always have an "eye" on them for the benefit of their health, safety, attitude and moral character.  It didn't matter where you rustled up that "eye" You had to have it ready as a beacon (or alarm); a call for necessary appropriate action.

These are the people she needed eyes in the back of her head for:

Child Number One, Two and Three

Child Number Four

Child Number Five

I've found my Mam's words to be all truth.  Mothering is never ending, and yes - it is exhausting.  It is hard and sacrificial.   And yet... it is the most blessed and life changing of all careers.  

Content Little Girls

Sitting in the mall - enjoying coffee with the Machinist, it so happened that we were right next to a child's indoor playground.  Neighbouring tables and chairs were strewn with handbags, bottles, snack boxes, nappy bags, coffee cups and tea pots, plates and napkins, little ones' clothing and shoes.  There was shrieking, squealing, crying and moaning.  Then, there was laughter and chuckling even.

"You know, Babe", began the Machinist. "You can tell the good parents.  You can tell who puts great effort into their children, and those that don't.  I'm not saying they don't love their children - ..."

"I know what you are saying.  I know what you mean.."

"See that mother over there, with the two girls?  I saw her give both of them the 'nod'.  It was the 'time to go' nod.  The girls made their way to the table, and mother directed them to put their shoes on.  They got up, and started to run towards the exit.  She told them not to run, and they immediately slowed down, waiting for her to catch up.  And the best thing about it, they didn't complain or whine, and they seemed content.  They obviously felt secure".  

As the Machinist was telling me this, there was shrieking and shouting in the background.  We were on our last dregs of coffee, and about to leave.   

Father passed by, slouching over a full shopping cart.  At least twenty steps behind him was Mother, struggling with a wriggling, shrieking toddler under her arm.  An older child was walking next to her whining at pitch.  Yet another child was running - ahead of Father and the trolley.  Then back to Mother, banging into tables and chairs (and other patrons) as he ran.  When this happened, the mother would give that 'kids.  What can you do?' look. 

And all the time, neither parent communicated with each other, or the children. 

Learning to be Highly Effective - Ha!

We have just returned from town and baby is now sleeping snugly in her "mamma's cot" - still in our bedroom from her sleepover - more than a fortnight ago.  The Machinist has to shimmy around the cot to get to his side of the bed.  Most nights he says "we'll have to move the cot back to the other room, Babe".  We both agree on this, but still - it remains.  Because our room is closest to the living rooms, it is warmer and more convenient, I tell myself.  Others smile knowingly.

In other news - I am a flirt.  I flirt most days, in all areas of life.  I can't help myself. 

I confessed this to the Machinist the other day as we were sorting out his office.  He was / is so grateful to me for setting up systems within his space.  He thinks I'm fab, but he didn't know that I had / have my own struggles -  being able to focus on only ONE THING AT A TIME.  Most of my undertakings stretch on because of this fact.  I'm told that mom's (and business people) have to learn (unless they're that way inclined anyway) to multi-task.  I still have not mastered this as yet.  I don't hold much hope to do so, either.

And so - what happens is - I focus on one endeavour with such intensity, with such passion and then suddenly realise that other tasks are building up.  Tasks which can't wait. 

I am currently listening to an Audibles book by Stephen Covey entitled "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People".  I would gladly get rid of all my other 'self help' type of books for this one only (even though I am tempted to buy the next book in the series; "The Eighth Habit").  I'm only on Habit Three, and already I am much 'enlightened'.

I've even recognised the Machinist to be in Quadrant One: the Important and Urgent quadrant, while I am a Quadrant Three type of girl - the Urgent (to me.  I think.  I'm sure), but not Important on the scheme of things.  (The business.  The Family.  The World).  

We both need to acquire balance and find ourselves in Quadrant Two: Important, not Urgent. 

This, apparently, is the key to Effectiveness.  

And so - I am learning....It won't happen overnight, but....it will happen!

Keiralea Ann

So much life, growth and change between posts!  She is my love, my blessed life vocation.  And she knows it.  

Love from Mamma x

The Machinist Takes An Afternoon Off

The Machinist's first observation as I walked into the office were my new blue shoes.  "Oh I liiiike theeem, Babe.  You look too hot to handle!"

"I love the colour, but they hurt a bit - just on the top" I slid my forefinger between plump upper foot and shoe, demonstrating the exact area of discomfort. 

"Oh don't worry about that, I can fix it with a soft hammer..."

I'm still perplexed as to what a soft hammer actually is.  

Later in the day, there was rain, - followed by furious hail.  We were scheduled to deliver newly manufactured laundry skips to The Canberra Hospital.  Despite each skip being polished and sealed in plastic wrap, the Machinist didn't want to deliver in the wet weather.  

With his main task thwarted,  he gave himself the rest of the day off 

("...and with having no battles on at the moment, he gave his lads the day off..." - from The Battle of Hastings)

As we walked down the Christmas isle in Costco (can't resist) a thought came to mind:  There is nothing like a grandchild to bring back the joy of Christmas.

Later, dinner and movies added to the excitement of the Season.

Bats and Black Outs

After arriving home late after visiting the Grands in their new home, I thought it would be very disciplined and organised of me to go straight to the office in the Machine shop and complete some bookwork before going inside the house.  The Machinist was making some end-of-day calls next door.  Bob was crying to go inside.  Or be fussed.  Or fed.  I plumped up his cushion and told him to "go cushion", and he gave me 'those' eyes, but obeyed nevertheless.

The Machinist came in and sat on the chair next to me.  "Ready to go in, Babe?"

"Nearly"

And then - a power cut.  The computer, the heater - both off.  And yet... the lights were still on.

"If you go out of the front, I'll lock up behind you and come in the back door"

I went to the car to fetch a few items and lock it.  By then, the house and workshops were in darkness.  The sky was black.  And it was cold.

The front door opened and the Machinist shouted to me "Don't come in - there's another bat loose in the house!"

Don't come in?

Wow, he made it quickly through the garden, tip-toeing and avoiding the fuss, grunts and slobbery of the other dogs, through the house, locate the torch and out of the front door...

Don't come in?

There's another bat loose in the hooooose....

Another bat?

Whaaaat?

The phone rang.  Fumbling through my bag and vowing to empty it (again) really soon, I answer the call.  Our Sam.

"Are your lights out, too?" he asks
"Yep"
"I'll be down in a minute"
"Ok"

Then another call.  Our Sarah.
"Electricity off?"
"Yes, and there is another bat in the house"
"Whaaaat?"

Sarah and Cam pull in the driveway.  I climb in the back of their car as Cam jumps out the driver's seat, determined to help with bat eradication.  Sarah and I swap bat fearing stories and sentiments when the other rear door opens and Sam slides in next to me.

"Not going in to help with the bat?" I ask
"No way!"

In due course, the bat had gone and we went inside to a kitchen lit with candles and the aroma of roast beef.

Sitting down to dinner, with the dim light shining on his cheerful face, Sam declared "Well, I thought tonight would be a bit of a downer, but this dinner has cheered me right up!"

A Day In The Life of The Machinist's Wife

While feeding the baby her porridge, on the morning after her sleepover, - a terrible smell filled the dining room.

"is it the baby?" asks Sarah..
"No, she's clean.  What about the mother dog?" I ask..

On inspection, we discover that Pepi had a terrible mess going on in her undercarriage which needed our attention -and fast!

Cam fetched the wheelbarrow, Sarah donned gloves, I brought out the hot water.  Pepi sat in the water while Sarah washed her as I held her.  Baby wanted to see what was going on and we had to distract her when she got too close to Pepi's splashes.

The phone rang.  Machinist came around the corner from the Machine shop.  "It's your mom, Helen" (Helen!).."..the movers won't pack their stuff.  They need everything to be in boxes and your mom wants to know if anyone in town has any boxes they don't want..."

Hayley arrived to pick up Baby.  Sarah and I made a dash to the Grand's cottage.  It didn't look as if there was a lot of moving house going on that day.  It looked like, and was - a removalist's nightmare.  Small tubs, without lids.  Buckets oozing their wares.  Large tubs with lids - heavy and cracking with the weight they were bearing.  A few flimsy cardboard boxes with an occasional content marker.  Sturdy boxes - half empty waiting 'last minute items'.

There's a fine line between aged parent independence and necessary action for the good of all.  The Greater Good.

Emma confided in Grandpa to leave the key under a pot at their new home, while she took the Grands for lunch and coffee.  Sarah and I moved swiftly.  Very swiftly.

Kitchen unpacked
Pantry and fridge stocked
Beds made
Clothes away
Correct distribution of tubs and wares
Removal of empty vessels and other rubbish
TV set up

And then, an impulsive but necessary turn into McDonalds drive through (uugh) for a large coke and fries.  Diet tomorrow.

On arriving home, and after his meal, the Machinist asks..."Babe, come with me..." (Babe!)..."I've got something to show you".

I follow him to the kitchen, where he collects the torch.  I follow him outside towards the Fabrication shop.  "Look there!"

He spotlights a BRAND NEW FENCE.  But oh!  This is not only a lovely, high (privacy) beautifully fitted and welded fence partnered with a well hung and hinged gate.  It is a SNAKE PROOF FENCE.

Aaahhh... Romance.

Later that evening, the Machinist and I are lounging back in soft brown leather recliners, sipping cold drinks and basically - living it large.  We are watching a Very Scary Movie about alien invasion (the "Greys", FYI).  We retire to bed and just as we are falling asleep - a sudden distinct thumping noise.  Then again.  And again.

The Machinist gets out of bed to check what's amiss.  He's gone for a while, as I lay there and wonder if he has been abducted.  Then he comes back to bed, lifts the covers, slides in...

"What was the noise?" I ask
"Oh, it was Emma.  She had a bat in her room and I helped her guide it out the back door..."

A bat.  A BAT.  A BAAAAAT!