Saturday, September 2, 2006
You'd think that holiday weekends wouldn't make much difference to us...
...especially those weekends which don't necessarily imply visiting, visitors and honoring one another with gifts and special meals. They do have a psychic effect on my mother and me, though. When my mother realizes that we are on the verge of a three-or-more-day holiday weekend, she sighs and expresses gratitude, as she did last night, as though she was still teaching and could put away the rigors of a career driven life for an extra day. I relax a little more than usual, knowing that I don't have to "think business" for an extra day.
Despite the tendrils of energy that enlivened my mother's Thursday, this week, yesterday she settled fully into her usual routine: Arising at 1300, after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to rouse her at noon and 1230; an easy-going day in which she was not amenable to any kind of outside-our-door activity and scoffed at my recitation of our "plans" for the weekend; a short nap, very short, it's true, but I had to cajole her to remain awake until 2330 last night. Her BG was up a little, both morning and night, as was her BP, despite no evidence of water retention and meals low in refined carbodydrates. Sometime in the evening, after we watched the last part of Elizabeth I, as I prepared dinner and took her stats, I attempted to lecture her about how her stats were showing, yet again, that it would be better for her if she moved a little more.
"I don't know why you worry about it, child," she sneered, "I don't."
And, she doesn't. She doesn't even worry when she's experiencing a legitimate health crisis and can feel its effects. In fact, she rarely feels the effects of legitimate health crises.
Although I will, at some point, this weekend, do all the errands "we'd" planned and attempt to entice her into accompanying me, especially on the lawn mower buying errand, my guess is that, this holiday weekend, she will insist on spending most of it in The Country of Ancient Idyll. Since it's a holiday weekend, I will probably not punish myself by attempting to push her beyond her reverie.
Later.
Despite the tendrils of energy that enlivened my mother's Thursday, this week, yesterday she settled fully into her usual routine: Arising at 1300, after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to rouse her at noon and 1230; an easy-going day in which she was not amenable to any kind of outside-our-door activity and scoffed at my recitation of our "plans" for the weekend; a short nap, very short, it's true, but I had to cajole her to remain awake until 2330 last night. Her BG was up a little, both morning and night, as was her BP, despite no evidence of water retention and meals low in refined carbodydrates. Sometime in the evening, after we watched the last part of Elizabeth I, as I prepared dinner and took her stats, I attempted to lecture her about how her stats were showing, yet again, that it would be better for her if she moved a little more.
"I don't know why you worry about it, child," she sneered, "I don't."
And, she doesn't. She doesn't even worry when she's experiencing a legitimate health crisis and can feel its effects. In fact, she rarely feels the effects of legitimate health crises.
Although I will, at some point, this weekend, do all the errands "we'd" planned and attempt to entice her into accompanying me, especially on the lawn mower buying errand, my guess is that, this holiday weekend, she will insist on spending most of it in The Country of Ancient Idyll. Since it's a holiday weekend, I will probably not punish myself by attempting to push her beyond her reverie.
Later.
