When I was growing up, my mom was an immaculate housekeeper. I mean it. You could take a white glove to any part of her house at any given time and it would remain white.
Saturdays were her cleaning days. We did our jobs during the week as well, believe you me! But every single Saturday was deep cleaning day. Every square inch of the house was dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed, mopped. She wouldn't do anything "fun" until all the chores were done.
She had us trained, too. On Saturdays, we were not allowed to go out to play or hang out with friends until our assigned chore was completed. If it didn't meet her satisfaction, we were sent back in to redo the job.
Over the past couple of years, my mom's house has been less than immaculate. At first, it was clutter piles building up. Around the time this started, my grandparents died and my dad was bringing home and sorting through their things; my grandma was a hoarder, so it was more than just a couple of boxes of stuff, to say the least. We chalked the mess up to grandma and grandpa's "stuff".
As time went on, we began noticing more than just clutter. The first time I realized that there was a real problem was when I went to use the bathroom and discovered mold in the toilet. I couldn't believe my eyes! How could this have happened??? My mom would NEVER allow such uncleanliness in her house!
The more and more time went on, the less and less housework seemed to be getting done. Soon, dust was settling on picture frames and furniture. Floors went longer and longer between moppings. Dishes were beginning to pile on the counters for, sometimes, days before she would tend to them. It seemed she had completely forgotten the jobs that needed to get done. When we would bring the topic up for discussion, mom just complained that she was too tired and sweaty to finish her tasks, or she would make comments such as,
"Yeah I did dust the pictures before," not seeming to realize that this is an ongoing task.
I watched my dad struggle to keep a balance with work and the new roles he was having to assume. Mom and dad always had very traditional roles in our home: dad went to work and mom took care of the home. My dad has always worked long, hard days (in the construction business) and mom was more than happy to take care of the rest of the household duties, along with the help of us kids. I can remember a time or two seeing my dad scrub toilets or do some dishes, but for the most part he's never had to worry about that role.
A few months ago, I realized that we, as a family, needed to step in and take some of this burden off of my dad. I made a goal to go over once a week to help with some housecleaning. I started out doing well...and then summer came and I had all 5 kids at home with me! A couple of times, I took the kids with me to help with some of the chores.
One day, as I worked on decluttering and organizing bookshelves, my two teenagers gave the kitchen a good scrub down. They started by unloading and loading the dishwasher before cleaning the stove and countertops. My mom came in and just about had a conniption fit.
"What are you doing? Those dishes are clean," she said when she saw the girls loading the dishwasher. Upon explanation, she turned to the cabinet to inspect the clean dishes that were just put away.
"No! You're not doing it right! These are still wet, now you're messing them up! I leave them in there for many hours to dry. I have my own way to do this, too! And I have my own way of putting in the dishes, too. You're not doing it right!"
I tried to talk calmly to her and assure her that the girls were only trying to help.
"No!" was the answer she continued to give, with a disapproving shake of her head.
I admit, I felt a little defensive of my girls. They were giving time out of their summer to come over and help, and I was afraid mom might have hurt their feelings. Luckily, as I later apologized to the girls for my mom's reaction, they were very loving and forgiving.
"It's okay. We know it's not her fault, she doesn't mean it."
Eventually, I was able to calm mom down and convince her to leave the kitchen-only after reassuring her that I would make sure all the dishes were dried and put away in the right places.
As you can see, there's been a learning to curve to helping mom. I'm slowly learning which chores I can take on, and which I should leave for my mom. The chores she continues to do are dishes (though they will sit for a couple days sometimes), laundry and she will vacuum the living room rug. Occassionally she will clean the toilet in her bathroom. It is a short list, and she only works in 10-15 minute intervals before she gets too tired and too sweaty and needs to lay down for a rest. She's more likely to get off the couch and work when someone else is over there working, so I feel like me being over there is good motivation to get her doing something productive, even if it's only for short intervals.
As I've been over there this week, I have focused on decluttering and organizing. I've thrown out several boxes of trash and started another big box to give to Goodwill. I've been able to finish 2 bedrooms, the Tupperware cupboard, and the towel/sheet cupboard. At the beginning, mom uneasily paced nearby to make sure I wasn't messing anything up or throwing anything important out. Occassionally she would get in my way, on a quest to look for something. Eventually, she retreated to the office where played her computer game until naptime.
My new goal is to go over once or twice a week to finish decluttering and organizing the house. I'm also going over to observe mom and make sure she's okay by herself throughout the day, which I'll write about another day (I know, I said that in the last post, too). Other family members have offered to come over and help as well...we'll see how that goes. I think if I focus on the organization issues, anyone else can focus on the surface cleaning. Hopefully, we can relieve at least some of the stress that has been placed on my dad since this whole journey has begun.
Showing posts with label chores. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chores. Show all posts
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Housekeeping
Labels:
chores,
cleaning,
daily tasks,
housekeeping,
loss of abilities
Thursday, August 2, 2012
What's For Dinner? Part 1
When I was growing up, my mom was a master in the kitchen. We rarely ever ate out; mom had a nice meal on the table every night and we ate together as a family. She acquired her cooking skills from my grandma, who was an amazing cook. I can still remember staying at grandma's house, baking with her in the kitchen while she listened to Melinda Lee's cooking show on the radio. As a kid, I thought she almost famous when she was featured (and spoke) on Melinda's cooking show. I was proud when I saw her name, picture and recipes in newspapers and magazines, and impressed with her blue ribbon from the Orange County Fair for her original "Avocado Cream Pie".
All that to say, my mom learned from the best. I was always proud to bring friends home and show off mom's home cooking. I'm pretty sure that's why my husband kept coming back night after night while we were dating...he was a bachelor who loved a good home cooked meal.
Over the past few years, her cooking has become less and less. At first, we thought it was just the "empty nest" phase-no kids at home to cook big meals for anymore. But eventually, our Sunday family dinners (which are a big deal in our family) were becoming less thought out, and very repetitive. We started joking around when Sundays would roll around,
"What will it be tonight, spaghetti or tacos?"
Those became the only two things mom would cook.
Another big change was her motivation to cook. Once passionate about cooking, she started losing interest. Her taste for the foods she was once loved were becoming obsolete. She used to always make the Sunday meals; over the past couple of years, mom has been doing less and less hosting of the Sunday meals, and my dad and I have become the coordinators and chefs of our family dinners.
One time, a few months before her diagnosis, we decided it was time to change things up. We told her we wanted her to make her famous crockpot pot roast.
"Pot roast...what is pot roast?"
After a very detailed description of what pot roast is, where you buy it in the supermarket, and how you cook it, mom finally remembered. The next night, at family dinner, we noticed she had put lima beans in the roast. Somebody made a comment about the lima beans,
"It's different, but I kinda like it," I believe was the comment.
"What are you talking about? Are you talking about those green beans? You told me to put in green beans," she replied defensively.
We didn't want to make her feel stupid, so we tried to explain nicely that what she used wasn't green beans, they were lima beans. She was upset and insistent that they "are too" green beans. She pulled the empty can of lima beans out of the trash can and showed them to us.
"See? They are too green beans!"
As she took a closer look at the fine print, she saw the words "lima beans". This upset her even more.
"What are green beans?? I'm so stupid. I don't know why my brain won't work right!"
How had my mom, who once ruled the kitchen, come to this point, where she couldn't tell the difference between a lima bean and a green bean? We tried to calm her down and reassure her that it was okay and that she hadn't ruined the meal.
"It's fine mom, they aren't green beans but they taste good! It's okay...you're not stupid...it was just a mistake...they are green..."
I felt so bad for her. I felt sad that she thought she was stupid. And I felt confused with what was happening to her, that she couldn't even distinguish differences in food anymore.
It was somewhere around this time, that I really began to realize that she was going to need more help in her meal planning and cooking. It wasn't this incident alone, but a series of events that had led up to this conclusion. A big part of this realization came from my dad. It was frustrating for him to go to work all day long (he is a tilesetter, so he is literally "breaking his back" at work all day) and come home to an empty dinner table. Although we knew something was "off" with my mom, we still hadn't gotten a diagnosis by this point and he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of effort to prepare the meals, or do anything else for that matter. Of course, by the time we had received a diagnosis, we began to realize that this was beyond her control and that she would definitely need some extra help in this task.
And....because I am a busy mom, and this is the last week of summer break for my kids...I am going to have to end my post here. The kids are ready to go swimming! Tune in tomorrow for part 2 of this post, which is our solution to the "what is for dinner?" dilemma.
All that to say, my mom learned from the best. I was always proud to bring friends home and show off mom's home cooking. I'm pretty sure that's why my husband kept coming back night after night while we were dating...he was a bachelor who loved a good home cooked meal.
Over the past few years, her cooking has become less and less. At first, we thought it was just the "empty nest" phase-no kids at home to cook big meals for anymore. But eventually, our Sunday family dinners (which are a big deal in our family) were becoming less thought out, and very repetitive. We started joking around when Sundays would roll around,
"What will it be tonight, spaghetti or tacos?"
Those became the only two things mom would cook.
Another big change was her motivation to cook. Once passionate about cooking, she started losing interest. Her taste for the foods she was once loved were becoming obsolete. She used to always make the Sunday meals; over the past couple of years, mom has been doing less and less hosting of the Sunday meals, and my dad and I have become the coordinators and chefs of our family dinners.
One time, a few months before her diagnosis, we decided it was time to change things up. We told her we wanted her to make her famous crockpot pot roast.
"Pot roast...what is pot roast?"
After a very detailed description of what pot roast is, where you buy it in the supermarket, and how you cook it, mom finally remembered. The next night, at family dinner, we noticed she had put lima beans in the roast. Somebody made a comment about the lima beans,
"It's different, but I kinda like it," I believe was the comment.
"What are you talking about? Are you talking about those green beans? You told me to put in green beans," she replied defensively.
We didn't want to make her feel stupid, so we tried to explain nicely that what she used wasn't green beans, they were lima beans. She was upset and insistent that they "are too" green beans. She pulled the empty can of lima beans out of the trash can and showed them to us.
"See? They are too green beans!"
As she took a closer look at the fine print, she saw the words "lima beans". This upset her even more.
"What are green beans?? I'm so stupid. I don't know why my brain won't work right!"
How had my mom, who once ruled the kitchen, come to this point, where she couldn't tell the difference between a lima bean and a green bean? We tried to calm her down and reassure her that it was okay and that she hadn't ruined the meal.
"It's fine mom, they aren't green beans but they taste good! It's okay...you're not stupid...it was just a mistake...they are green..."
I felt so bad for her. I felt sad that she thought she was stupid. And I felt confused with what was happening to her, that she couldn't even distinguish differences in food anymore.
It was somewhere around this time, that I really began to realize that she was going to need more help in her meal planning and cooking. It wasn't this incident alone, but a series of events that had led up to this conclusion. A big part of this realization came from my dad. It was frustrating for him to go to work all day long (he is a tilesetter, so he is literally "breaking his back" at work all day) and come home to an empty dinner table. Although we knew something was "off" with my mom, we still hadn't gotten a diagnosis by this point and he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of effort to prepare the meals, or do anything else for that matter. Of course, by the time we had received a diagnosis, we began to realize that this was beyond her control and that she would definitely need some extra help in this task.
And....because I am a busy mom, and this is the last week of summer break for my kids...I am going to have to end my post here. The kids are ready to go swimming! Tune in tomorrow for part 2 of this post, which is our solution to the "what is for dinner?" dilemma.
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