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5:50 p.m. - 2007-01-14 The Dark Side of CakeI was enjoying a calm and isolated Saturday morning free from noise, wants and desires of other human beings. A rare occurance and something I desperately need to recover from the frenzy of the work week. We don't have a huge social life. We don't have many making demands on our time and those that do know not to call in the early morning. I did up some dishes, started my marathon cooking for dinners to nuke in the week ahead. Mike was sleeping and although he should have been up, I've leanred to let him sleep and this gives me the illusion of being all alone. The phone rang. The caller ID said "Manor Care". My initial thought was to not ansewr. My Mother in Law is a hateful spiteful thing and although I feel sorry for her, I also don't like her and don't want to deal with her. Of course having comapssion for someone means answering the phone even if you don't want to. "Hello?" I said. "MACHOLE" she bellowed back at me asking for her son in her deteriorating accent. "No, this is Paula." I said. I heard some nervous breathing on the other end. "Well, I need to talk to MACHOLE" she said in a nasty, rude, bellowing, demanding tone. "He's still sleeping" I said, "is there something I can help you with?" "Absolutely not." she shouted. "Get him up now." I went and woke up Mike and he was none too pleased. Her demands are ususally something that can wait and not emergencies and he values his sleep more than life itself. I knew my peaceful morning was over. She demanded that he come right that minute to get her laundry because they shrunk it up on her. When asked if her stuff was all shrunk up, she said No, then Mike asked why she thought it would be shrunk up this time as the home had been doing her laundry for 9 months. She then began to cry and that made him mad. In Mike's defense...every single conversation with his Mother is met with this beligerance, bitching, moaning and crying and it is wearing thin. She is NEVER happy with what anyone does for her. In defense of my MIL, she is a 90 year old befuddled person who has lost all control over her own life and is confined to an institution....somewhat like a jail including the ankle bracelet. Mike doesn't have to work outside the home, is completely supported, has very little housework to do and I even cook and feed and shop for him.....he is a kept man. If he has to spend 2 hours per day taking care of stuff for his Mother, then I would gladly trade that unpleasantry for the 11 hours I have to work for an asshole One reason, along with the onset of dementia that my MIL can't live with us anymore is her extreme suspicion of me. When she lived here I was alwasy getting accused of bizzare things. This, along with finding pieces of cake, candy and cookies hidden in the bathroom and below the bed, made it very hard for me. She still accuses me of things even if she doesn't see me often and never misses a chance to tell her son of the latest slight. Most of them are funny and this one takes the cake....as a matter of fact, it's about cake. Her accusation? Last August when we celebrated Mike's birthday, one half of the cake appeared darker than the other half (this is not so...it is perception marred by dementia). She cried out loud as she told Mike that when I put the cake on the table.....I turned that dark side toward her. This kind of thinking is why she needs to be in a locked Alzheimers unit with an ankle bracelet to prevent escape. I do feel compassion for her but it is tempered with the fact that even undemented and younger, she always looked for ways in which I (and others) slight her. I guess when you live your life a hateful old thing....you die alone a hateful old demented thing. P. I. Yarnsmith
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