santa baby

I bring flowers for Mom today--a gorgeous bouquet of "green" mums and sunflowers. I arrange them in a clear glass vase while Mom gets changed out of her wet Depends and is transferred to her bed. Mom's tired or maybe more accurately she'd tired of being where she is.

When her nurse's aid has left, Mom barely has a word to say. When I show her the eclairs I've brought from Le Panier, she hardly notices their delicate pink frosting or the chocolate swirls that decorate their top-side. When I ask her what she did today, she says--"Nothing." Mulu confirms Mom had no visitors, but that they did do her exercises. I ask Mom how she's feeling and she says--"Okay."

Soon it's apparent Mom would rather settle back into her movie, the one that she and Mulu were watching before I came--it's about the ghosts of Christmas's past. Neither Mom nor Mulu have any idea about the title of the film and I don't recognize any of the actors/actresses. I come in near the end of the film, just in time to see the final struggle where the "ghost of Christmas past" is ousted from his job as keeper of the past and a new ghost is appointed--the blond heroine of the movie who must regrettably leave her new found companion, the non-ghost hero of the movie, in order to do her job for the future of civilization. The best part comes after it's over--clips of mistakes that were edited from the movie. These are really really funny--they have all three of us laughing.

I try to interest Mom in planning her Christmas. I tell her I can be her Santa's Helper. We can make a list next week and then I can take her to the Bellevue Mall to buy presents for my brother's family. We'll get Larry to drive us. She seems to like this idea as she says--"Okay"--but this is all I can get out of her. To myself I'm thinking--what kind of a Christmas will this be? What must this be like for Mom? Does she see this as her last Christmas? Can she even tell me?

Mom and Mulu have been on a movie binge today as the Family channel has their "25 days of Christmas" where Christmas movies are run continuously. Soon, a new one starts--"Santa Baby 2"--and while I don't know her by name at least this one has a heroine I can recognize: she's the left-behind lover in "Wedding Planner"--the blond career woman who's so busy doing business she doesn't have time to be a human being. Her role in "Santa Baby 2" appears similar: a New York ad executive who is such a workaholic she plans to spend Thanksgiving pulling all-nighters. This is about to change as a late night call from Mom reveals that Daddy--Santa to the rest of the world--has had a heart attack. The blond workaholic's presence is now needed at the North Pole to save Christmas.

While I have about zero interest in watching "Santa Baby 2," it seems Mom does. But really, I can't tell if she's glued to the TV screen because she's genuinely interested or if she's just not had anything else better to do today. Instantly, I feel bad that it's taken me all day to get here to the Mirabella--all day to work up the mental and emotional energy to get in my car and drive to her "home."

So I spend the next 45 minutes watching the movie with her, looking for things to laugh about with her. Surprisingly, there are quite a few. When dinner comes--"Penne w/ Chicken, Tomato & Onions, Glazed Carrots"--Mom still wants to watch. So we follow the movie's plot in-between Mom's remonstrations about how she doesn't want any of her dinner--"Not one bite," she says, adamantly. When Mulu and I realize there's not a single piece of chicken in Mom's pasta, I go to the kitchen and request a new helping. I watch as the server scrapes the bottom of her pan producing three minuscule less-than-one inch pieces of chicken--it appears Mom has gotten the short end of the stick this time.

Back in Mom's room I ask what I've missed from the movie--neither Mulu nor Mom seem to know what has happened since I've been gone--it took about 8 minutes to get Mom's three-piece helping of chicken, time enough for something to have happened. As I sit there watching Mulu and Mom watch the movie, I realize something finally--that neither Mom nor Mulu are really watching this film. Instead, they are filling time, letting the TV stand in for the life my mom is no longer capable of living. Not even my presence can alter Mom's lassitude, her doldrums.

I've never felt so powerless.

Deeply, a mother's daughter
--this is alifewithmom--