I know I lead a charmed life. I have known my husband 27 years, been married to him 22 years. I think I can say this is gonna last. I have great kids. I mostly lead a drama free life, which I believe is a good thing.
Unfortunately, my Parents are providing all the drama one family needs.
Except for a brief time during my teenage years, I have always gotten along with my folks. I love them. We do things together. I never expected this affection and respect to change.
Did I mention that I love my folks? They are 76 and 77. For the most part they enjoy good health. Mom suffers from asthma, my Dad from high blood pressure, regular stuff for people on the path to 80. They have friends, family and good retirement income.
My folks live up the street and around the corner. Easy walk. It has been wonderful. BUT. Their house is huge, complete with possessions out the whazoo. They need to downsize into something more manageable.
They act like I am sending them to the @#$ nursing home every time I bring it up.
There just comes a point in everyone’s life when you have to make decisions about The Next Stage. I’m talking about getting a two bedroom, two bathroom place on one level instead of the barn they live in now. How they get old age gulag from that I’ll never know.
They are driving me around the bend in a little red wagon. The first causality is my sense of humor. I am so frustrated. I want them to make these decisions before they have some catastrophic life-changing event. And it is coming.
Two words: The Ladder
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ on a raft – the ladder is giving me more trouble than any problem my kids/husband/jobs ever came up with COMBINED.
My Mom fell off a stepladder in April and was in a cast and in pain for months. You’d think that would have Taught A Lesson. Fat chance.
Just imagine the thrill I get from driving around the corner and seeing my Father on the lower roof carrying a 12-foot ladder extended. Checking the roof. We have talks that go like this.
Me: “You have no business on the roof.”
Dad: “I have a leak.”
Me: “When you fall off the roof I’m going to be really pissed. Do you understand how dangerous this is and how foolish you are acting?”
The only time we are safe from the ladder is when they are traveling or having company. My Aunt and Uncle left Monday at 5p. My Dad got on the ladder early Tuesday morning. He had not braced the ladder, so it shot out from under him. Ladder hit my Mom. She now has 30 stitches in her shin, a good possibility of infection, skin graft and a heap of misery. Dad’s fine.
“Why are we having this conversation again?” I asked them. “It’s time to think about downsizing before one of you ends up permanently injured.”
My Mom says that I am “trying to take away their life.”
I guess life on the ladder is that damn important?
I have lost my sense of humor somewhere. Let me get on the ladder to look for it……