You know what doesn't mix well? Elder care and PMS. Yep, I said it. Yesterday was just that kind of day.
See, here's the problem: Although my parents have been rather flexible, in general, there is a tendency, especially for Dad, to be a bit cranky. That's partially because he's 81 and often feels like crap, but I think some of it is just simply being a crabby old man. He's used to getting what he wants when he wants it. Mom operated under the philosophy of keeping him happy made her happy.
Not me. I've got another agenda. I intend to keep my parents healthy and safe. If they happen to be happy, that's excellent, but it's not my primary goal. (Although I spend a great deal of time worrying about their happiness, as you know.)
Yesterday, nothing was working. Dad wasn't eating his breakfast fruit. I spent an hour or so on the phone making medical appointments and something new developed that Dad will see the doctor about today. (No, I'm not going to make you THAT uncomfortable. I do have standards. Suffice it to say that there are some things that needed to be seen that I cannot unsee.)
All of this, plus PMS made me Crabby McCrabster. It was awful. I had a bit of a meltdown. I yelled a little. I cried a little. I stomped around a lot. And then I did what my husband hates: I gave everyone the silent treatment. Yep, I went there. I just needed to be in my little bubble and not speak to anyone. My poor Mom. She tried about 10 different ways to talk to me, but I just literally had no energy to chat with her. I felt like I was kicking a puppy. I just couldn't do it. She finally went to bed at 8:30 because nobody wanted to talk to her. The poor thing.
Thankfully, my sister and I had a great text chat last night. I could tell her what was going on and she completely understood my need to vent and my need to do it passively. She's the best. Seriously.
Today, I feel better. There's a good chance I won't kill anyone.
Then again, it's still early.
You can't be Sr. Theresa every day!
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