Sunday, December 21, 2003
Thought I would share a copy of my Christmas letter for anyone interested:
Christmas 2003
Dear All,
I know many of you hate these form letters. I really tried to write a personal note in every card, but I wasn’t getting anywhere very quickly. The past couple of years I never even got the cards to the mailbox so guess you will just have to suffer through this or pitch it in with all the others unread—your choice.
Mama is much worse. She seems to be spiraling down daily. My “Mama Stories� can be found in unedited diary format at the following website: http://mymama.blogspot.com If you have access to the internet, you can read about my trials, tribulations, laughter, and tears of dealing with a mother with Alzheimer’s disease.
We now have three workers trading off taking care of Mama. I would be a basket case without them. Michelle comes for the night shift from 10:00 PM to morning. Her shift ends at different times depending on how the night goes. Sometimes she takes Mama to her house for the night so I can get some sleep. When she does that, she just keeps Mama there until she gets her kids ready for school. Then she brings Mama home. Beverly comes in around 6:45 AM and stays until Penny comes. Penny comes in between 9 and 11 AM and stays until I come in from school. I thought I could do the weekends, but Mama’s schedule is just so unpredictable that I wasn’t getting any rest. Beverly, bless her heart, has also started coming in on Saturday morning and staying through until Sunday morning. This has been an unbelievable stress reliever for me.
The Mama-sitters suggested I get a baby monitor so they could hear Mama when she is in her bedroom. That way they can tell when she is up and moving around or needs some assistance without making Mama feel like she is being spied on all the time. They can also get to her before she comes in and wakes me up. Many times every day and night, we hear, “Come to me! Come to my house! Come to me.� She starts out very quietly, and then if no one comes she gets progressively louder until someone shows up in her room. She is so happy to see us that she grins, kisses us on both cheeks, and says, “I love you. You have a pretty thing.� Then we are released to go back to whatever we were doing before we were summoned to the royal bed chambers. Luckily I don’t hear much of this at night since my cousin made the brilliant suggestion that I get one of those “sound� machines that have constant soothing sounds. I just turn that wonderful little machine on, relax, and snooze away. Occasionally Mama sneaks past them and into my room, but usually I have no clue about what is happening outside of my dreams.
I am still trying to “Stomp out Ignorance� (to borrow a phrase from a former co-worker) in sixth grade in Van Vleck. I have three groups of Language Arts (reading, English, writing, etc.). My morning bunch has 15 kids, but my other two bunches have 24 and 25 students. There is a definite difference in energy needed to work with the different groups.
My nieces, Margy and Martha, are doing well considering all they have been through in their short lives. Margy and I keep up through email and an occasional phone call. Martha is a little less communicative, but Mama and I were able to visit with her at my brother, David’s house last Sunday. She and friends were driving through to the West Coast via New Orleans to see her sister, The Woodlands to see us, the Grand Canyon, and Nevada to drop the two dogs off with one of Mike’s brothers. Martha will be back in school in San Francisco and Margy in New Orleans for the Spring Semester.
My email address is: cratliff@intergate.com until I find a faster, better deal. I am much better at communicating through that method than snail mail. So if you have email, drop me a line. I love to get something other than those ads for Viagra, etc!
I love and miss each of you bunches. Hope our paths cross one day soon. You are always welcome to come to Cedar Lane. Mama loves new people to hug and kiss and to give all kinds of interesting goodies, but that is another story. Bunches of Hugs to one and all.
Christmas 2003
Dear All,
I know many of you hate these form letters. I really tried to write a personal note in every card, but I wasn’t getting anywhere very quickly. The past couple of years I never even got the cards to the mailbox so guess you will just have to suffer through this or pitch it in with all the others unread—your choice.
Mama is much worse. She seems to be spiraling down daily. My “Mama Stories� can be found in unedited diary format at the following website: http://mymama.blogspot.com If you have access to the internet, you can read about my trials, tribulations, laughter, and tears of dealing with a mother with Alzheimer’s disease.
We now have three workers trading off taking care of Mama. I would be a basket case without them. Michelle comes for the night shift from 10:00 PM to morning. Her shift ends at different times depending on how the night goes. Sometimes she takes Mama to her house for the night so I can get some sleep. When she does that, she just keeps Mama there until she gets her kids ready for school. Then she brings Mama home. Beverly comes in around 6:45 AM and stays until Penny comes. Penny comes in between 9 and 11 AM and stays until I come in from school. I thought I could do the weekends, but Mama’s schedule is just so unpredictable that I wasn’t getting any rest. Beverly, bless her heart, has also started coming in on Saturday morning and staying through until Sunday morning. This has been an unbelievable stress reliever for me.
The Mama-sitters suggested I get a baby monitor so they could hear Mama when she is in her bedroom. That way they can tell when she is up and moving around or needs some assistance without making Mama feel like she is being spied on all the time. They can also get to her before she comes in and wakes me up. Many times every day and night, we hear, “Come to me! Come to my house! Come to me.� She starts out very quietly, and then if no one comes she gets progressively louder until someone shows up in her room. She is so happy to see us that she grins, kisses us on both cheeks, and says, “I love you. You have a pretty thing.� Then we are released to go back to whatever we were doing before we were summoned to the royal bed chambers. Luckily I don’t hear much of this at night since my cousin made the brilliant suggestion that I get one of those “sound� machines that have constant soothing sounds. I just turn that wonderful little machine on, relax, and snooze away. Occasionally Mama sneaks past them and into my room, but usually I have no clue about what is happening outside of my dreams.
I am still trying to “Stomp out Ignorance� (to borrow a phrase from a former co-worker) in sixth grade in Van Vleck. I have three groups of Language Arts (reading, English, writing, etc.). My morning bunch has 15 kids, but my other two bunches have 24 and 25 students. There is a definite difference in energy needed to work with the different groups.
My nieces, Margy and Martha, are doing well considering all they have been through in their short lives. Margy and I keep up through email and an occasional phone call. Martha is a little less communicative, but Mama and I were able to visit with her at my brother, David’s house last Sunday. She and friends were driving through to the West Coast via New Orleans to see her sister, The Woodlands to see us, the Grand Canyon, and Nevada to drop the two dogs off with one of Mike’s brothers. Martha will be back in school in San Francisco and Margy in New Orleans for the Spring Semester.
My email address is: cratliff@intergate.com until I find a faster, better deal. I am much better at communicating through that method than snail mail. So if you have email, drop me a line. I love to get something other than those ads for Viagra, etc!
I love and miss each of you bunches. Hope our paths cross one day soon. You are always welcome to come to Cedar Lane. Mama loves new people to hug and kiss and to give all kinds of interesting goodies, but that is another story. Bunches of Hugs to one and all.
