Sunday was the Mister’s morning on kid duty, since I slept in… We take turns on the weekends and Saturday is usually my morning to sleep, but we switched… Whatever, that’s totally beside the point… SO, the Mister was on Mema duty.
I woke up about 9:30 to my bedroom door opening and hearing the shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle sound of old people feet. I thought to myself surely Mema isn’t in my bedroom. I’m trying to sleep. The door was shut, this whole side of the house was dark… WTF?
Sure enough I opened my eyes to see Mema’s face peering into mine. She had shuffled all the way across my room and around my bed, over to my side and was now ten inches from my face.
I sat up a little, flustered. “Are you okay? Do you need something?” I mean why in the hell would she be in my room? Waking me up???? She said no she was fine and just kept staring.
“Okay. What are you doing?” I asked her. “Just checking on you. Just making sure you were okay.” Was her response.
“Yes. I’m sleeping. We take turns sleeping in on the weekends. It’s my turn.” She just stood there grinning and staring at me.
“Oh,” she said, “Alright. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” But, she never moved. She just kept standing there.
SHIT, I thought. She wants me to get up… “Do you have coffee?” She answered yes, the Mister made some.
“Okay, good. I’m just going to turn over and go back to sleep.”
“You were asleep?” She asks…
“I’m sorry,” she says, but continues to stand there, grinning, ten inches from my face.
“It’s okay, I’ll just go back to sleep for a few minutes. Don’t worry about it.” But, she still stands there.
“I didn’t wake you.” She replies.
“Yes, you did. It’s okay. I’ll just go back to sleep now.”
“Um, just now… When you came into my room.” Argh, old lady. I love you, but oh.my.god.
“I did not.”
“Yes. You did. But, it’s okay. I’ll just sleep for a few more minutes, okay?” Prompting her that it was time to shuffle from my bedside and let me get back to sweet dreams of Edward…
“Well, I didn’t wake you.” And continues to stand there.
So, I got up, got dressed and emerged from my dark, quiet, soft, warm lair. Dammit.
When I came out in the bright, loud, noisy family area, the entire family was there… The Mister was cleaning out cabinets, so the entire floor was full of crap. Mema was sitting in the den with the kids, while they ran in circles around the big mess they’d made, screaming at the top of their lungs. I so was not ready to get back to the real world, MEMA.
I poured some coffee and sat down and started chatting with her. She’s a talker, especially in her old, crazy state. She can go on and on and on about something, describing everything in great detail… Imagine how that goes now that she has dementia? Not so well. She doesn’t make sense, she forgets what she is saying and then she tells the whole damn confusing thing over 27 times…
She has to have a bite for breakfast and “discovered” Nutri-Grain bars while here. (She’s been buying them for years.) She’ll go on and on about how delicious those little bars are and how she’s never seen anything like it! That she must rush out to the store and buy some upon immediate arrival at home.
Anyway, so she starts talking about her breakfast and how she went to the pantry to find one of those bars and she found another kind… It was in a package “this big and this wide and about this long” (demonstrating the sizes with her hands,) etc… “It was ooooh, so good. But, when I opened it, I was surprised because it had been broken into bits and was very crumbly… But, I ate it anyway.”
I looked at the Mister, who at this point, had walked over to hear the story… I asked him what it was, because we have no other bar type things in the pantry, and there was absolutely no telling what in the hell she had found and had eaten. I knew it couldn’t have been anything too bad, or he would have stopped her… And I knew that this was going to be one hell of a story, because he usually has something that needs immediate attention and runs when she gets on one of her talking, story-telling jags. He just shot me the look and said under his breath, “I’ll tell you later.”
Oh shit. This is going to be good…
So…. Mema goes on and on about how crumbly this bar was and that she just had to pick the crumbs out of the package and eat it in little bites… And it was just so yummy and delicious. Then she looks at the Mister and says, “And did you know that when I got a little ways into it, it was just so crumbly that I poured it into my coffee and ate it with a spoon?” She was obviously very proud of herself for thinking of doing this… The Mister was desperately choking back laughter.
I asked him again what this oh, so delicious, crumbly breakfast treat was and he mumbled out of the side of his mouth again, “Just listen to her. I’ll tell you later.”
She continues, because she will if you let her, “I just ate it right out of my coffee. Like biscotti. It was very good.” And so on… And so on… And so on…
After about fifteen minutes of listening to her describe how delicious it was and how ingenious she is for thinking of pouring it into her coffee, I followed the Mister into the kitchen. He was holding onto the counter, seriously laughing his ass off.
“What was it?” I asked.
He managed to get out, through his shaking laughter, “A packet of ………. A packet of ….. instant oatmeal.”
He said you should have seen her eating it out of the little packet, piece by tiny piece. He said he asked her at least three times if she would like for him to make it for her. She would say no, she was just fine. No clue what she thought he was asking her if he could make. Because apparently, uncooked instant oatmeal is oooh, so yummy and delicious just right out of the packet. Who knew?
We were both laughing hysterically in the kitchen… He said, “And, then… Oh my god, when she came and got a spoon, I was seriously like what the fuck?!?! I know she didn’t just pour that in her coffee!! But she did. And she ate it! With a spoon! And said it was ‘oooh, so good!'” We were seriously crying with laughter.
And Mema, not wanting to miss an opportunity to talk, heard us howling and kept on asking, “What is it??? What’s so funny.” Which made us laugh even harder.
The thought of her sitting there eating dry instant oatmeal out of the packet seriously has me still laughing. And then making oatmeal with her coffee and eating with a spoon out of her mug, thinking it was a crumbled up breakfast bar… And talking, for an hour, about how yummy it was… Oh my god, I can’t stop laughing still. Like making my jaws hurt laughing.
Poor Mema. I wonder if she’ll introduce her friends to the yummy goodness of her new breakfast treat…
Oatmeal. It’s what’s for breakfast.
Now, run off and try some and report back. (I’m sooo not doing it, though.)