Broccoli cheese with wholemeal rolls
Mum woke me up this morning, standing right outside my bedroom door to tell me “I just keep needing to wee”. I muttered a response, because I had literally just woken up. She snapped “you’re not going to help me, then?” and sulked back to bed.
Lying there, she kept up an endless stream of complaints: it was cold, she needed to wee all the time, it was cold, “they” were doing horrible things to her, she needed to wee all the time, she felt terrible, it was cold…. and so on, over and over and over, until I snapped and lost my temper. She apologised, hugged me, went back to bed, and *immediately* started complaining again.
Another snap of frustration from me, and it went blissfully quiet for a few precious minutes. Then a little voice called out “I’m trying to be quiet for you, but I’m really scared”.
I just can’t get through to mum that I can’t fix things with the wave of a magic wand, which seems to be what she wants. She really seems to believe I could help if I wanted to, and the fact that I don’t proves that I don’t love her. It’s exhausting to be wearing myself to the bone caring for her, only to be treated as guilty of neglect and cruelty for being unable to work miracles.
Eventually mum got up, declaring that it was cold – as if I wasn’t aware of this fact – and she wanted a hot water bottle but couldn’t remember how to do it: couldn’t I do it for her? Boiling water and dubious hand strength is a bad combination, but I managed.
Mum promptly decided it wasn’t hot enough, and she would redo it herself. Then she decided that she actually wanted was the cup of tea I offered and she rejected. “You couldn’t do me one now could you? Or are you too busy eating?” (A cereal bar, chosen because I can finish it within 30 seconds.)
I reminded mum that she can make her own tea. “Oh, I suppose I can.” And she wonders why I get angry with her.
Later on still, mum went out to the post-church coffee morning with Charolais, leaving Suki and I to sit on my bed in rare peace. Suki rolled around on her back, purring like crazy. I scrolled through details of hotels and restaurants in Newport, ready to book tomorrow for my forthcoming multi-day first aid course.
Given how little energy I have, travelling backwards and forwards each day, and having to start and end each day with caring responsibilities, just isn’t going to work. That I therefore get multiple nights in peace is simply a very pleasant coincidence.
(Although I will miss my Suki snuggles: every time I wake up (or am woken up) during the night atm, I find Suki cuddled up, little spoon-style. It’s totally worth being repeatedly smacked somewhere personal with her very forceful tail.)
This afternoon I did the meal plan and grocery order for the coming week. It’s becoming ever more of a struggle to feed mum, even when I decide, as I have this week, to do slightly different versions of meals for us both. (You will recognise when this happens when tofu appears on the site. I don’t know if mum has ever tried tofu, but I think there is minimal chance now of persuading her of the merits of this versatile foodstuff.)
For tonight, I simply heated through some ready meals: cauliflower cheese for mum, and broccoli cheese for me as I can’t stand cauliflower. Mum looked a my serving and made some muttered comment about the size of my portion.
Then, having finished her far more modest portion, she ate tiramisu, an individual trifle, and the last two chocolate ginger biscuits in the packet. As that’s actually a pretty modest level of consumption by her standards, I didn’t intervene.
And so, once again, to Strictly Come Dancing for mum, and sitting on my bed writing this for me. Hopefully tomorrow we will here from the boiler company about repairing the boiler and giving us back some heat: I don’t want to sound like my mother, but it really is cold in here.
