Toss Your Cookies
I called Mom. The farther out she gets the less I want to do it but I still do it.
It always starts with her answering "hello" in an angry voice or a whimpering voice and then telling me she's losing it.
"I'm losing it," she says.
Yesterday I asked what she meant this time and she said she had just tossed her cookies.
"You threw up?"
No, I'm not sick like that.
"You mean you're losing your marbles?"
YES she says. Then, I'm totally naked in my room right now.
For days she's been complaining of having nothing to wear, even though she has clothes in her closet and I bought her bags of clothes to wear. I don't think she's tried any of them on. She says the bags are on her floor somewhere. After telling me she's losing it she always tells me she has nothing to wear if she needs to go out, and I have to tell her she can't go out, none of us can go out, so it doesn't matter. Just put some sweat pants on. Long silence to that.
I'm reminded of being a kid and using my own money to buy her gifts for her birthday or Christmas, and the look on her face when she opened her gifts, which was always one of distaste and disappointment. We could never get it right, just like she never got it right with her mom, my grandmother, who would always return the gifts she had received to my mom's doorstep with a note saying the gift "should be used" by someone, at least. Sniff, sniff. Jab, jab.
I try to talk mom into putting some pants on but there's just silence on the other end.
"Are you there?" I ask after a long pause.
Yes she says.
"Did you put some pants on?"
No she says.
"So you're just going to walk around your room naked? I guess that's one way to do it."
I guess it is, she sneers.
I tell her I'll call someone and I call my stepdad and he sighs and says he'll call the place. They send someone down there later to dress her and get her to eat some dinner.
"We just need her to make it 40 more hours and then Dad will be in there with her," my brother texts, crossed fingers emoji, crossed fingers emoji.
Just 40 more hours.
It always starts with her answering "hello" in an angry voice or a whimpering voice and then telling me she's losing it.
"I'm losing it," she says.
Yesterday I asked what she meant this time and she said she had just tossed her cookies.
"You threw up?"
No, I'm not sick like that.
"You mean you're losing your marbles?"
YES she says. Then, I'm totally naked in my room right now.
For days she's been complaining of having nothing to wear, even though she has clothes in her closet and I bought her bags of clothes to wear. I don't think she's tried any of them on. She says the bags are on her floor somewhere. After telling me she's losing it she always tells me she has nothing to wear if she needs to go out, and I have to tell her she can't go out, none of us can go out, so it doesn't matter. Just put some sweat pants on. Long silence to that.
I'm reminded of being a kid and using my own money to buy her gifts for her birthday or Christmas, and the look on her face when she opened her gifts, which was always one of distaste and disappointment. We could never get it right, just like she never got it right with her mom, my grandmother, who would always return the gifts she had received to my mom's doorstep with a note saying the gift "should be used" by someone, at least. Sniff, sniff. Jab, jab.
I try to talk mom into putting some pants on but there's just silence on the other end.
"Are you there?" I ask after a long pause.
Yes she says.
"Did you put some pants on?"
No she says.
"So you're just going to walk around your room naked? I guess that's one way to do it."
I guess it is, she sneers.
I tell her I'll call someone and I call my stepdad and he sighs and says he'll call the place. They send someone down there later to dress her and get her to eat some dinner.
"We just need her to make it 40 more hours and then Dad will be in there with her," my brother texts, crossed fingers emoji, crossed fingers emoji.
Just 40 more hours.
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