Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Not Just One Mama Mia, Either
Carrie just popped into our bedroom to say good-bye. Hard to believe she’s already lived with us for over four months, but it’s true. It’s lovely having her here.
“Well,” I said, “they went ahead and admitted her last night.”
She shrugged her shoulders, clueless. “Who?”
“Grandma.”
“Grandma Who?” Poor Carrie.
She’d gone to Grandma Mary’s last night at my request. I was supposed to meet her there, where we were going to help Mom put together a “craft”—her contribution to our family’s gift exchange, an event she’s been stressing and obsessing about with a level of depression normally reserved for unhappy circumstances.
My mother’s been having a Holiday Meltdown Of Tremendous Proportions. She’s one of those people who shouldn’t be around weapons or alcohol or bungee cords or drugs from Halloween through Valentine’s Day. And then again from Easter until Labor Day. She’s safe, I think, except for the drugs—which always seem to flow way more freely than they should.
I never arrived at Mom’s. My car had a Holiday Meltdown, too. It was already dark when The Call Of The Mama lured me from my home, and I cannot see to drive after dark. But, heck. Mom only lives 15 minutes down the road, and I always say I could get there with my eyes closed. Of course, I could. As long as someone else was driving. My car’s defroster decided to malfunction completely and driving blind AND deaf takes all the thrill out of the sport.
So I pulled into our church parking lot, an eight-minute drive from our house, crying because I’d nearly wrecked the car, and found my cell phone in my purse. Why I carry the darned thing, I don’t know. I can’t hear on cell phones, but you know? In this day and age, it seems like the safe thing to do. Of course, since I never use it and don’t remember to recharge it because I never use it, I never…um…use it.
The church, bless its heart, looked open. I let myself in and experienced the meaning of the word “sanctuary.” I found a phone and called Doug, who said he’d come to get me. Then I tried to call Carrie’s cell, but she doesn’t answer it if she doesn’t recognize the number. An attempt to call my mother—who would now be worried because Carrie had arrived and I had not—turned up nothing. Were the two of them up in the facility’s lobby waiting for me? Who knew?
I waited and waited for Doug, and then decided to give my hobo bag a good jingle. Sure enough—I had not one but both sets of keys. Leaving him at home with a car but no way to drive one. I tried to call him again, but got no answer on either the home phone or his cell.
After thirty minutes of waiting, he showed up at the church. He’d found a spare key somewhere. Carrie finally answered the phone in Mom’s apartment and I talked Mom down from the ceiling. “Tomorrow,” I said, “in the daylight. I will be there. I promise.”
Doug had to go home for a business meeting. One of our cars got Left Behind at the church. Turned out Doug can’t see too well in the dark, either. He almost hit a concrete barrier that he mistook for a deer, swerving with such vigor to miss it that I had to take a muscle relaxor for my neck. Thirty seconds up the road, a genuine deer encountered a very near miss with Doug, who didn’t swerve at all that time.
“Which Grandma?” Carrie repeated, car keys in one hand and sack lunch in the other.
“Grandma Adele, of course. Who did you think I meant?”
That’s what happens when you go to bed at 10:30 like she does. You only THINK you’re up-to-the-minute on The Grandma Brigade, but trust me, if you blink, you miss something.
Doug’s mother spent much of November in the hospital and then the nursing home before going back to her assisted living apartment. Last night was her second ambulance trip to the hospital this month. They did not want to send her home like they did last week because…well, they are clueless why her blood pressure keeps bottoming out.
Today may be one of those Doug And Katy Raymond Divide And STILL Don’t Conquer Days, or we both may do both of The Moms. Together.
Together. Yeah, that sounds good.
- i usually don't comment on two entries in a row, but the story of the deer made me laugh. i just did the very same thing the other night. my friend, riding with me as i yanked the wheel of the truck to the right, stared at me in confusion as to why i was swerving at a large stump. "i thought it was a deer," i said lamely. moments later, a real deer jumped across the road and i didn't even slow down. is this a guy thing?
Posted by joshua on 12/14/06 at 01:07 PM
- You certainly made a harrowing evening sound entertaining. My mom lives on the ceiling too, when she is not in the basement's basement.
Posted by AC on 12/14/06 at 02:37 PM
- I like your story. I think that even in older age people want something crazy. My grandma is 72 years old and she really like to share gifts on every occasion. I love her too much.
Posted by make a photo mug on 02/28/09 at 12:19 AM
- Great story, really reminds me of my Mom, God rest her soul
Posted by Erik Moore on 02/28/09 at 07:14 PM
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