It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…

As a joke I get everyone to look miserable while I sit there and grin for the official birthday picture.  We have done this for many years.

Right now I am getting ready for G.D.’s birthday.  She’s my mom and she is turning 90.

 I am her “house girl”.  I have determined that “house girl” is the best description for what I do in relation to her because mostly I try to keep a smooth path in front of her.  I try to get house work done when she is out.  She goes to yoga, plays Bridge and has physiotherapy every  week.  If I do the housework when she is out she can’t try to wrestle the vacuum cleaner out of my hands to do it all herself.  I have had to convince her I LOVE putting out her walker and bringing it in too because otherwise she would try to do it herself, which is crazy.  She has osteoporosis and ataxia and has broken vertebrae.  She is tiny, fragile and off balance.  She also is blind in one eye and has limited vision in the other but she is also fiercely independent and proud.  I would rather she think the house just doesn’t get very dirty naturally than bemoan the fact that more and more she has to rely on someone else.

Going to a resort (okay it’s still in Ontario, Canada, in NOVEMBER so we won’t be lying on the beach) is as much about giving me a break as it is an excuse for her to reconnect with old friends and relatives but I want her to have fun and enjoy the love and attention. . 

The other day she told a woman that I had sent an invite to that she wasn’t looking forward to her party.  I am hoping it was just her doing her Bette Davis impersonation that expresses boredom over what is her secret glee. Or that she didn’t hear what the woman said. I mean, she loves being the center of attention; she has to have a good time.  I will cry if she hates it, seriously.

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