I have no idea why a week at Mom’s leaves me lifeless and clueless. And tired. But it does, every time. And every time, it seems to take me longer and longer to recuperate.
Note to self: Don’t get old.
Okay, strike that–don’t get older. Bleh.
It’s not like we do that much, really. As I’ve said before, she can’t do much, but I did manage to get her inside the Beall’s store to do some shopping. Last time I was there, she had marked several things she wanted in various catalogs and asked me to order them for her when I got home. I did manage to get some of it ordered, most of which she had to send back for whatever reason, but I didn’t get everything. The catalogs sifted to the bottom of a pile of stuff I wanted to read “later”–a time which never came–and I completely forgot them. Which is for the best, I reckon. She orders things, tries them on, doesn’t like them, and has to send them back–which often means I have to send them back, but I have to get there to retrieve them first. Anyway, this time, there were no bad fits, no bad color choices, and no returns.
Other than shopping, we went out to eat, a lot, and I came home with five pounds I didn’t go down there with. This is how all that extra weight slipped up on me last time I was in remission. Not gonna let it happen this time. For the most part, I behaved myself in the restaurants, but Mom, who lives on microwave dinners because cooking has proven too dangerous for a woman who’s virtually blind, misses fried foods. That’s what she wants more than silver or gold: fried everything–and bacon. Lots and lots of bacon!
After all these years, we finally got the folks at IHOP to realize that they can indeed sell a pound of fried bacon. The wait staff always looked at us like we were alien beings from a planet far, far away, but now, eh, no biggie. Good.
I read her the opening scenes of The Simulacrum, and she liked it. Before you think she likes everything I do, let me cut you off there. Nuh-uh, she doesn’t either! She used to, but as I’ve talked to her about this business over the years, she’s learned. And has become one of my toughest critics. Somehow that strikes me as inherently unfair. Every author ought to have one person that amps up their egos with praise and adoration. But not me. Everybody’s a critic. At least this one treats me to dinner.
I did drive myself to Bryan this time. Two and a half hours behind the wheel. It wasn’t too long ago I wasn’t strong enough to do it, so I count this as a major milestone on my trek to getting well again.
For some reason I can’t quite pinpoint, visiting Mom tires me out for days afterward. If we fought all the time, I’d understand, but we never fight. If she had a long list of manual labor tasks for me to do, I’d understand, but everything she needs done, she hires someone to help her. Which leaves me with my original conclusion. I’m getting old. All I want to do is sleep, which I combat with pots of java.
Maybe I ought to buy stock in Folgers.
Several years into it, and this blog still refuses to be categorized. It's eclectic and includes everything from writing posts to snippets from my ordinary life. 
Linda W. Yezak 
There HAS TO be a different reason, Linda. I will NOT accept that you are old. Sorry. Wrong answer ;). (And I can be your ego amper if you want ;)). Hope you’re feeling energetic again soon!
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You’re a gem! Thanks, Joanne!
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My husband deals with COPD. Any time spent visiting extended family if it takes him away from home is emotionally and physically draining. Don’t understand why, but I’ve noticed it does.
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Oh, I can understand if he’s coping with COPD too. Body’s focusing on both staying well and doing things outside his normal routine. That may be why I get so tired. I’m tons better, but not well yet.
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There’s just something about not being in your own house that’s tiring. Nothing beats your own bed!
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Yep. That’s true!
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I agree with Katie, anytime you are away from home, it is tiring, and as much as I hate to say it, as we get older, it does drain more of our energy. Completely understandable, especially when still recovering from a serious disease. Glad you felt well enough to drive. That was a huge step. 🙂
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Yep, I agree with Katie too. And you–driving was a huge step. I’m so glad I’m able to do it again. I hated feeling so dependent!
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Yup, I agree with Katie. And while you’re there, you’re always on, so to speak. You don’t fully relax or rest. So glad you’re stronger now. 😀
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That’s true, Lynn. Mom has a tendency to wake up talking, and that’s so far away from the quiet mornings I’ve grown accustomed to. Just not growling over my coffee takes effort, but how could I growl at my mama?!
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I’ve learned with toddlers—I was physically exhausted. I never could get enough sleep. I nursed and was pregnant for half my married years up until four years ago (with 23 years of marriage now).
I’ve learned with teenagers—I am emotionally exhausted. I don’t even try to catch up on sleep. But their issues and concerns are not “What cereal will you eat this morning?” Their choices effect their future—and thus are crucial to staying on track.
I have found dealing with my mom, probably no parallels, but that it is both emotionally and physically draining. I only can visit once a year. I try to do every fix it job in the short 2 weeks that we are there, and the emotional battle of convincing her that we can and will do it for her, goes well beyond the stress of teenage events. (Well, probably not.)
If your visits are anything like ours, its physically and emotionally draining—in spite of our love for each other. Is that just life?
Sorry, and age does not help. My sons remind me daily that I shouldn’t exert myself too much at my age and that I cannot recall as accurately as they what happened yesterday…If I was an oversensitive person, I’d just give up.
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