So, you want to hear about my latest project? I have undertaken the task of cleaning my dad's house. I haven't been working, so I decided a good way to use my time would be to get his house in order and in a safer and more healthy condition. I wonder now what the hell I was thinking.
The first day, I spent over an hour cleaning just the main bathroom. It was filthy: the toilet was covered with feces and it took half an hour just scrubbing it to get it clean. I was on my hands and knees washing the floor and even had to wash down the walls because they somehow had poop on them in places. The mountain of used Depends nearly filled a kitchen trash bag and there was all kinds of clutter covering the counter. I tried to convince him to stop keeping urinals by his chair and bed, but he said he needed them. I told him he at least needed to empty them and not leave them sitting out. The Pie could very easily get a hold of them and that thought just sickens me.
So on to the kitchen, where I spent nearly 4 hours. I filled 3 of the 30 gallons trash bags with old food, used tea bags, egg shells, coffee grounds and other unidentifiable items that covered the counters and table. I washed down the counters and the appliances on them as well as scrubbed the sink and did the dishes that were marinating in funky water there. For weeks, he has had 3 fans pointed at the dining table to blow away the bugs that swarmed around it and it disgusted me. I refused to eat anything that was prepared in that kitchen and the Pie was not allowed to walk barefoot in there for fear of her stepping on God knows what!
I started to move on to laundry but Dad said his washer was leaking pretty badly, so I decided to gather it up and bring it home with me. As I was getting it together, I found 2 towels that were covered in dried feces and I discovered later that there were ants and bugs in his laundry basket which I have now introduced into my new house (that really pissed me off)!
I want to help him live in a more healthy environment, but what I don't understand is how he can stand to live in those squallid conditions! He used to rage at my mother for not keeping a clean house and it was NEVER anywhere near the current condition. My thoughts were that if I got everything cleaned, it would be easier for him to keep up with, but I haven't seen any evidence that he is even trying! When I left last Wednesday, the toilet was so clean you could eat off if it and when I was there on Sunday, it had poop all over it again! And the kitchen again had dirty dishes and food sitting out.
What I fear is that he has just given up. He doesn't bathe on a regular basis and when he wants me to cut his hair, I make him wash it first. The cellulitis on his leg is getting worse and about once a month, I have to cut his toe nails and finger nails for him. He finally got hearing aids, but he hardly ever wears them. I've threatened not bringing the Pie there to visit, but that seems to make no impact on him. Sometimes I feel like I am raising 2 kids; one is 3 and lives with me and the other is 81 and lives 20 miles away.
Every time we go out there, the Pie says, "Mama, it stinks in here!" and I just don't know what to say to her. There were "skid marks" on his recliner and she refused to sit in it with him. Even SHE knew it was not a chocolate ice cream stain...I feel like I should threaten him with a nursing home if things don't improve. I just don't know what else to do.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Always Be Prepared
It took weeks of preparation...planning, researching, list-making, shopping. You can't just throw something together willy-nilly at the last minute. You must reflect on all possible outcomes and choose your path. I made phone calls, filled out forms, worried and fretted over the course of action: are we ready? should we wait? Finally, I made the decision and enrolled the Pie in preschool.
It was agonizing for me, because I wanted the Pie to become more socially acclimated for when she starts kindergarten. Her child care arrangement up until recently was just her and Mimi. But I felt she needed to be around kids her own age for her to learn how to share, make friends and impress teachers. So, after much thought and reflection, I found a small church preschool that is affordable and is only two and a half hours 3 days a week. It's located very close to Mimi's house so I felt there was some familiarity for the Pie.
On Meet the Teacher Day, Mimi and I loaded up the Pie and took her to meet the ladies to whom I was entrusting her for the next 9 months. They were lovely ladies - one was a bit too perky for my taste, but we're talking about preschool teachers here, so I guess she filled the bill. During our visit, the Pie was friendly and inquisitive. She was anxious to enter the building and investigate everything available to her. She picked out her chair at the table and claimed to be hers for ever more. I half expected her to plant a flag in it!
On the first day of class, I expected the Pie to experience some separation anxiety. I thought she would cry when I left her, or she would drag her heels on entering the classroom. I envisioned holding her and patting her back while telling her everything would be alright and Mama would be right back to pick her up. Guiltily, I admit I even wanted a little of that. I needed to know she would miss me. Umm...not so much.
When we arrived, she dressed in her black and white toille dress and cute little black shoes, the Pie sprinted to the doors and down the hall to her classroom. She let go of my hand, walked into the room and never looked back. Folks, I was devastated. I wondered what I had done wrong that she was so anxious to get away from me. So eager to be in the care of virtual strangers and be surrounded by kids she didn't know. I honestly stood in the hall, my hand empty of hers, wondering what had just happened. A few seconds later, the Pie came running out of the room and into my arms. "I love you, Mama," she said. And tears rolled down my face. I hugged her with ferocity and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her lavender shampoo.. What was at first a moment of slight sadness quickly turned to a grand moment of inexplicable joy.
It was in that instant that I realized I had done my job. I had prepared her for the day she would have to leave the safety of home and go to school. I guided her to be strong and independent. I encouraged her to be brave and outgoing, to be honest and respectful. These are tools she will need for the rest of her life and as her mother, I provided her with lessons so that she could acquire them. I was proud of her and proud of myself.
Now, pass the Kleenex...
It was agonizing for me, because I wanted the Pie to become more socially acclimated for when she starts kindergarten. Her child care arrangement up until recently was just her and Mimi. But I felt she needed to be around kids her own age for her to learn how to share, make friends and impress teachers. So, after much thought and reflection, I found a small church preschool that is affordable and is only two and a half hours 3 days a week. It's located very close to Mimi's house so I felt there was some familiarity for the Pie.
On Meet the Teacher Day, Mimi and I loaded up the Pie and took her to meet the ladies to whom I was entrusting her for the next 9 months. They were lovely ladies - one was a bit too perky for my taste, but we're talking about preschool teachers here, so I guess she filled the bill. During our visit, the Pie was friendly and inquisitive. She was anxious to enter the building and investigate everything available to her. She picked out her chair at the table and claimed to be hers for ever more. I half expected her to plant a flag in it!
On the first day of class, I expected the Pie to experience some separation anxiety. I thought she would cry when I left her, or she would drag her heels on entering the classroom. I envisioned holding her and patting her back while telling her everything would be alright and Mama would be right back to pick her up. Guiltily, I admit I even wanted a little of that. I needed to know she would miss me. Umm...not so much.
When we arrived, she dressed in her black and white toille dress and cute little black shoes, the Pie sprinted to the doors and down the hall to her classroom. She let go of my hand, walked into the room and never looked back. Folks, I was devastated. I wondered what I had done wrong that she was so anxious to get away from me. So eager to be in the care of virtual strangers and be surrounded by kids she didn't know. I honestly stood in the hall, my hand empty of hers, wondering what had just happened. A few seconds later, the Pie came running out of the room and into my arms. "I love you, Mama," she said. And tears rolled down my face. I hugged her with ferocity and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her lavender shampoo.. What was at first a moment of slight sadness quickly turned to a grand moment of inexplicable joy.
It was in that instant that I realized I had done my job. I had prepared her for the day she would have to leave the safety of home and go to school. I guided her to be strong and independent. I encouraged her to be brave and outgoing, to be honest and respectful. These are tools she will need for the rest of her life and as her mother, I provided her with lessons so that she could acquire them. I was proud of her and proud of myself.
Now, pass the Kleenex...
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