A Place For Mom

Recently my husband and I had started making preparations for my mother in law to have a place of her own. She has been living with us seen we moved into our house nearly ten years ago. The arrangement originally was one meant to be mutually beneficial. We helped her take of her mother and she helped us take care of our three children while I went back to school and back to work.

The years went by, as they often do, and the situation has changed. Her mother has since passed away and my children are now at an age where they don't need quite as much adult supervision as they once did. Not to mention that I now work out my home office. (Work being a loose term for unemployed writer.) So I am here to deal with any life threatening emergencies such as running out of milk, missing homework, unruly hair, unwashed band uniforms and forgotten lunches.

I went from feeling like I had to accept this intrusion in my life to feeling that the best thing for her was to be more independent. I felt like I was some sort of advocate. I thought the best thing for mom was to parent her from afar. We would be able to monitor her via phone calls and my husband has access to her bank account so we would know what she was spending her money on. The insurance company arranges transportation to all her doctor appointments and I already do all her shopping for her. See? I kept telling myself. Nothing would change. She would happy. I would be happy. All would be well.

And then it hit me.

One Sunday morning my husband and I were making a big family breakfast, as we often do. I knocked on my mother-in-law's bedroom door to give her a plate of eggs, bacon and toast, cooked just the way she liked them. I entered her room and she was still drowsy with sleep.

She looked as though she hadn't slept very well. Her white hair stood out at odd angles away from her face. She had bags under her eyes. She was groping around blindly for her glasses. I realized then how small and shrunken her body had become. My mother-in-law is a tall, broad shouldered woman but at that moment she looked so frail and tiny. Her skin hung off her arms and legs, wobbling as she moved. Her hand shook as she reached out for her plate of eggs. The only strong thing about her was her voice.

I can't leave her.

I went back to the kitchen and told my husband that I could do this. I could take care of her. Never mind all my fuss. I don't think he has ever been so shocked. He literally starting looking in the kitchen cabinets for the real me, like a was a pod person sent here to bend him to my will.

Well, now our plans have changed. We have outgrown our home. Instead of trying to find a new one this year for a family of five, we are re-budgeting for two more years for a family of six. With a little more tightening of the belts, a little more elbow grease and a lot of dedication, I think we just might make it.

The things we do for family.