TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Resigned

We planned to visit the Weebles and repair the brick steps which are falling apart. Dad’s senior center glee club was having a concert. Not only were they giving the concert, but Dad is the Maestro, the group director. He asked me and Himself a minimum of 6 times if we would attend. Himself had the easy out as he would be mixing mortar, setting brick, uttering Horse’s Patoot, and making trips to the big orange home store. Truth be told, I don’t really want to listen to old folks sing show tunes or the top 40 hits from the days of their youth. I can’t stand show tunes.

I figured Ma wouldn’t want to go hear the old man sing. His singing is a source of irritation for her. Not necessarily the singing, but the fact he has an outside activity which doesn’t involve her. He’s also a lot more mobile, and he runs daily to the senior center while she is housebound.

I called to let them know we were coming and Himself would repair the stairs. I’d bring meals on wheels and provide shuttle service to and from the concert. As I suspected, Ma did not want to go.

When I hung up the phone, Himself was shaking his head. He didn’t say anything. I left him to the ballgame and went to putter around the house.

“Oh, no!” I cried running back to the bedroom.

He snickered. “You just figured it out, did ya?”

If I take the Maestro to his concert and stay, Ma is going to be very put out that I “do everything for him and nothing for her.” If I stay with Ma, the Maestro will be unhappy that no one went to his concert to show support. OPD at it's finest.

“How do I get myself into these things?!”

“You had parents.”

Deep sigh. You just have to resign yourself to the fact that some days you’re the pigeon and some days you’re the statue.