Finally, a start

Started the blog few years back - back when I had just returned after taking care of my sick mom for a few months - I thought this would be a place to vent and wail and wallow - turned out it was too tiresome to actually put all that neural venting and wailing into words...

Fast forward five years and here I am again... my charming, vivacious, narcissistic ( is that how you spell the damn word?), insecure, clever mother is slowly going crazy, and I am watching it like it's a movie - no venting and wailing - just a Celexa calm that impresses everyone around me.

The blog should really be titled - Mothers Fathers and Daughters - because my dad will probably feature big as well - an insecure, brilliant, funny, tense, needy, reedy man who may or may not have driven her crazy, and now clings to me like lint.


Today, mom decided that she has had enough of this new place, and needed to return back to her own apartment - never mind that she cannot get out of bed on her own, and this is the apartment she fought tooth and nail for six months with the architect to design. She clutched at her favorite handbag (the one always under her pillow now, stuffed with any jewelry that she believes may be stolen from her, and bits of paper that I dare not explore), the handbag straps slung tightly across her chest, looking like a frail 79 year-old messenger boy in a back-open gown, and sat at the edge of the bed looking expectantly at the door for most of the day - any time any of us walked into the room, she announced that she was ready to finally start the packing - I tiptoed around the statement every single time. But dad was so grateful that she did not accuse him of anything yet, interestedly queried, "What packing?" while the nurse and I glared at him. He scurried out as she launched into an hour-long anxious rant on how she was sick of being the one who did everything, while he just sat around watching the same headlines on CNN all day long.