today we move mom into her assisted living apartment. Even as i write this I have trouble believing it. She should have moved in with me sometime in the past 5 years. She should have sons who care enough to help with this massive undertaking. I should further appreciate this husband of mine, who, once again has jumped in to make my life bearable. Details to come.
that I am part of the “sandwich” generation. However, right now I am about out of peanut butter and this whole “caretaker” roll is getting stale. So self involved, I know, but, I’m exhausted.
Brought sunshine, family, green grass and a sale where I was able to sell yarn! Excellent weekend — full of joy. I shall file it under, it doesn’t get much better than this.
I’m sure the site is bursting with Mother’s Day musings. Emotionally packed tributes to children, sad accounts of the phone call that didn’t come, hopes for a brighter future.
This is not one of them. Oh, this is about Mother’s Day, but it may be a little off sync…
Mother’s Day is not about presents. But, I always get gifts.Some years I have been inundated with handprint pictures and potted geraniums. Some years the gang banded together and presented me with gift certificates and Hallmark’s best. A few years back it was a plethora of gym bags/clothes/socks….
But this year was one of those years that demonstrates just how in tune our kids are with George’s and my life. Its a transition time for us, moving mom into assisted living, selling our home to our youngest, looking for a small place to live up here.
AND THE BEACHHOUSE.
Our dream — always — has been to own a beach place. Originally it was supposed to be in Cape Hatteras. My happy place, the place I call home — where I spent weeks on end growing up. But, its a bit far from the “homestead” where, for now at least, all of our children live within a 10 mile radius.
So, we are doing it. We are in process of buying a second home, at the beach, in Virginia.
And, after the phone calls, the facebook messages, the memories of Mother’s Day past…they showed up yesterday, bearing gifts. A beach mug for my cups of coffee on the deck, two toss pillows — adorned with sea horse and blue crab, a lighthouse wall hanging, our Initial for the door, and a tropical plant.
They get it. After the teen years, full of angst and self involvement, after the toddler years where their physical and emotional needs could overpower — they adult up on me and find tangible ways to tell us they get it.
loved and bless, that’s this girl.