Desperate Unhousewife?

The clothes on my floor have returned to their respective homes in my closet and drawers. *nod*

I came home from work today (via letting a friend's dog out for a friend... I get roped into that a lot, lol) to find my frail grandmother's hands covered in her own excrement. Papaw was asleep in his chair (per usual) and I heard her moaning a little in the baby monitor he has sitting next to his semi-permanent sitting place. I went back to their room to check on her, and there she was. I went to get some baby wipes to begin the cleanup process and to wake my mom up to let her know.

My mom works the evening shift at the North Harbor Pavilion, the psychiatric units of one of our local hospitals, affectionately called "The Harbor." Within the past month or two she and her co-workers have had to clean up some of the patients' excrement (on several different occasions) because they'd decided to play in it. (If mom had a blog, it'd be titled Fun With Feces... And Other $#!^.)

I wish this had been the case with my grandmother. I could handle the weakness and senility if she were at least enjoying herself.

I'm here to tell you, she's not.

She's in pain (yay cancer and it's @#%&! treatment), but she doesn't want to be a nuisance to anybody and simply refuses to ask for help when she needs it (which ends up causing much more trouble than there would have been had she simply "bothered" us in the first place).
3 years ago she would have refused because she's stubborn and independent.
Now I think it's mostly because she's confused.

I try for the most part to keep my home life separate from, well, anything that happens outside of home. It helps to keep me peppy and optimistic most of the time, but sometimes it just bleeds through...

"Stop pretending everything's all right..." Thank you, Serena... (Playing on my iTunes as I type)

Anywho, I just wanted to take a break to relieve a little bit of this before I return to picking up the house. Dishes piled up in the sink, more laundry to do, and alllllllll kinds of clutter for which I have to find appropriate places to put it.

Today one of my red groupers (kindergarten age) at day camp said, "Miss Kate, looking at you makes me tired."

I really wanted to say, "Imagine what it's like actually being me, sweetie!" Haha! One thing I will always love and that will always pick me up is working with kids.

I don't even have a boyfriend and I can totally sympathize with a desperate housewife.

Granted, I'm feeling a little whiney, but I think I'm right in saying, "That's just not fair."

P.S. The reason I don't have a boyfriend and why I will probably remain a career-driven spinster is because my grandfather has ruined me for all men.

For my grandmother's sake, I'm so glad he did.